“Well, thank God for that.”
Shy didn’t reply.
His uncle lifted a hand his way. “Son, I—”
“Save it,” Shy bit out and he shut his mouth.
Seconds slid by.
Then his uncle tried again. “Maybe, with your aunt not there, we should find a time to sit down and talk.”
“And maybe that’s never gonna happen,” Shy returned. “Maybe I like it better knowin’ that my brother’s a soldier, a brave man, puttin’ his ass on the line for this country. Maybe I like knowin’ that I got a woman, gettin’ a house, and soon we’re gonna make a family. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that you had not one thing to do with the good that’s in us, the good that came to us, the good we deserve, the good we’re gonna make. Maybe I like knowin’ that you know that we had to escape this prison in order to carve out that goodness. Maybe I like knowin’ that your kids don’t give one shit about you because they think you’re as weak as I do, and they only have time for their mother because they know she’ll give them shit they ask for.”
His uncle’s eyes flashed and Shy knew his aim was true.
“Bet those ass**les don’t even send birthday cards,” Shy continued.
“Don’t think I haven’t thought on things, you boys gone, and—”
“Don’t care what you thought when we were gone,” Shy interrupted him. “The time for you to think and f**kin’ act was when we were f**kin’ here.”
He watched his uncle close his eyes in defeat as he heard his aunt coming back down the hall. Shy moved to the door, stopping and turning to his uncle.
“Last, and best and it isn’t a maybe, it’s a definite. I like knowin’ you’ll finish your life at her side. You deserve that shit. And that’s what it is that anyone gets from her. That’s all she’s got to give. Shit.”
He heard his aunt gasp in affront, turned back to the door as she slid in, careful with her body like being too close to him would rub off criminal vibes and she’d be arrested on the spot.
He reached out a hand, yanked the bag out of hers, opened it, looked inside, and counted boxes.
When he needed to move some to keep count, he reached in, and she snapped, “They’re all there.”
Shy looked at her then to his uncle. “They aren’t, another visit.”
Then, without looking at either of them again, he walked right the f**k out.
* * *
He rode home feeling something he didn’t get, something he hadn’t felt, not once, not in sixteen years.
He realized what it was when he got to Tab’s apartment and saw her electric blue car shining in the streetlamps illuminating the parking lot.
He felt free.
The feeling was overpowering, suffusing him, forcing everything else out and allowing him nothing but that.
Feeling free.
Fucking free.
He swung off his bike, jogged to the stairs, took them two at a time and turned the handle on the door. He knew by the light coming out the bottom it wouldn’t be locked.
It wasn’t.
He walked in and saw her curled into herself on the couch.
She shot to her feet the instant she saw him. Her eyes on him, her expression concerned, cautious, even scared, she whispered, “Shy.”
He closed the door, turned, locked it, and then turned back to her.
Free.
He was free.
He thought his brothers gave him that, and they did.
At the same time, they didn’t.
True freedom came from Tabby.
He stalked toward her.
“Bedroom,” he growled. “Take your clothes off on your way.”
Her body jerked but other than that she didn’t move.
He rounded the armchair, positioning to herd her to get her on her way to where he wanted her to go, and when he was a foot away, she stumbled then started backing up.
“Bedroom and clothes off, Tabby.”
“Shy, I… what…?” Her head tipped to the side as he rounded her wide and changed her direction, aiming her down the hall. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“You aren’t taking your clothes off.”
She licked her lip and Jesus, he was hanging on by a thread.
“Clothes, Tabby,” he growled, rounding her wide again to move her to the bedroom.
He moved her through the bedroom doorway and she stopped when the backs of her legs hit bed.
Shy stopped too.
She held his gaze.
Then she said, “I love you.”
Only then did she whip her shirt off.
Shy drew in a breath, he closed his eyes, opened them, tossed the bag with his mother’s earrings to the foot of the bed, yanked his own tee off, and then he lunged, taking her to her back in the bed.
He didn’t hesitate to take her mouth.
Then he didn’t hesitate to take her.
He did not waste time getting rid of their clothes and then he used his hands, mouth, tongue, teeth, knees, thighs, everything he had, to take everything he could get.
He didn’t have to take it, she gave it.
He took it anyway.
It didn’t take long before he was ready, she was f**king ready, he knew because she was panting so he yanked her up, moved her, shifted on his knees, slammed her back to the headboard and surged inside.
His dick sheathed in her tight, slick, hot silk. Connected to Tabby.
Fuck, always, always, gorgeous.
Her arms and legs rounded him, his hand moved up her side, up her arm, pulling it away from him, finding her hand, and he shoved his thumb in the palm, wrapped his fingers around the back and pressed their hands to the wall.
His eyes were locked to hers and he was moving inside her.
“Just like the first time,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Do you love me, Tabby?”
“Yes,” she again breathed.
“I know you do, baby, f**k, I know you do,” he muttered, then took her mouth, took her cunt, took her there. She cried out her orgasm, driving it down his throat as her pu**y convulsed around his dick, then he shoved his face in her neck and groaned his cl**ax against her skin.
He stayed that way, planted deep, his body pressing hers to the headboard, his hand holding hers, her other limbs tight around him, holding her close. He kept his face in her neck, smelling her skin, her hair, and he didn’t say anything.
Slowly, he pulled out, liking the little mew she gave that sounded sweet in his ear as she lost him. He moved back, set her on the bed. Reaching out an arm, he grabbed the bag.
“Shy?” she called but he didn’t answer. He dug into the bag.