“You can’t make me believe you honestly want this life,” Brad returned.
“Brad, it’s so beautiful, I not only want it, I’d fight and die to keep it,” I shot back.
Not unwilling but completely unable to believe I’d pick a life without him, Brad kept going. “You know I can give you more than he ever can.”
“You’re wrong,” I whispered, looked him straight in the eye and kept whispering when I pulled out the big guns. “I sleep.”
Brad’s face got pale.
“What?” he asked, but he knew what, he knew exactly what. I’d aimed, I’d fired and I’d hit the bulls-eye.
“Like a baby, straight through. Tate’s in bed with me, I don’t wake up.”
Brad stared at me, his face blanched of color, his expression stuck in a flinch. “Ree –”
“Straight through,” I repeated quietly. “He gives me peace.”
“Darling –”
“Peace, Brad, which means he gives me everything and you never, never gave me that.” I shook my head. “Not even close.”
“Honey –”
“Please give me one thing, just one thing. Leave me to my peace,” I whispered.
Brad held my gaze and I saw his throat working and I remembered, a long time ago, when my insomnia bothered Brad like it bothered Tate. I remembered a time when he wanted to make me better. I remembered a long, long time ago when he thought he, too, could fix me and give me peace and he wanted that for me and he wanted to be the one who gave it to me.
And I remembered that it didn’t take long for him to stop wanting that.
And I knew Brad remembered too because a miracle occurred in the instant he did.
Bradford Whitaker finally became human.
I knew when he asked, “Who’s Jonas?”
“Tate’s son,” I answered and Brad closed his eyes, pain, fleeting but real, sliced through his features because, a long time ago, he’d wanted to give me that too and then he didn’t.
He opened his eyes again.
“We should have had children,” he whispered.
“We didn’t,” I replied.
His throat worked again but his eyes didn’t leave mine when he admitted quietly, “I miss you, Ree.”
“I’m sorry, Brad, but I can’t do anything about that.”
He stared at me for long moments, his face still pale, his eyes wounded before he finally nodded.
“You done?” Tate impatiently demanded to know and Brad looked at him.
“One thing.” He was still talking quietly.
“You got one thing then you get out,” Tate allowed and Brad’s gaze came back to me.
“I loved you,” he stated, I sensed Tate moving but I didn’t look from Brad.
“Brad –”
“I did, Ree, swear to God. I just don’t know where I lost my way.”
Tate was suddenly there, at my side and partially in front of me.
“You’re done,” Tate declared and Brad looked up at him and you could have knocked me over with a feather because another miracle was happening.
Now Brad was looking at Tate like he was a god.
“She sleeps,” he whispered, visibly swallowed and repeated almost inaudibly, “She sleeps.” He looked at me and finished, “I wanted to give you that.”
I felt tears prick my eyes as I watched Brad, my ex-husband and a man I once loved, it was without reason but I loved him, have his epiphany but the tears didn’t form and Brad said not another word, he just turned and walked straight out of the bar.
“Get out,” Tate ordered, my body jerked and I looked up at him to see he was scowling at Hayley.
“I –” she began.
Tate leaned forward and bit off, “Bitch… get… out.”
Hayley stared at him, eyes wide then she looked at me then she ducked her head and quickly scuttled out.
The door barely closed on her before Tate’s arm was around my shoulders and he curled me to his front. His other arm wrapped around my waist as my arms went to hold him loosely at the waist and I tipped my head back to look at him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I answered and his arms gave me a squeeze.
“Think it’s over, Ace,” he said softly.
“That’s not what I’m not okay about,” I replied, his brows went up, I got on my toes and whispered, “Captain, you told everyone I go down on you in the morning.”
His face relaxed into a grin. “You do.”
“And about the shower.”
“I get to do that.”
“And about me... um, until I can’t breathe.”
“It’s the truth, Ace.”
“I know but –”
“Needed to make my point, babe.”
“Did you need to make it like that?”
“Well, yeah,” he said like that was a given and I should know it.
“Why?” I asked, because it was not a given in any way, shape or form.
“It’s a guy thing,” he explained.
“Just so you know, it’s a girl thing not to have private time shared in her place of work,” I replied, “or anywhere, for that matter.”
“Why not?” Tate asked.
“Why not?” I repeated.
He grinned again. “Babe, I just made you a legend.”
“But –”
“You think those boys don’t wish you were in their beds suckin’ them off every mornin’?”
I glared at him and pointed out, “I don’t do it every morning.”
Tate grinned yet again.
I tried a different strategy. “That’s between you and me.”
Tate was still grinning when he noted, “Not anymore.”
I was realizing he not only thought this was funny, he didn’t think anything was wrong with sharing private moments with our bar regulars. And this made me forget the scene we just had and it made me get very, very angry… at Tate.
“Captain,” I started, sounding as angry as I was, “I understand that drama was a drama and you sometimes don’t guard your words, but you should know, I didn’t like what you shared.”
Tate was unaffected by my obvious anger and I knew this because he returned, “And you should know, Ace, I could hire a sky writer to share the way you light up for me, I’d do it.”
I felt my eyes get wide and my body stiffen. “Are you nuts?”
“Nope.”
“You are.”