Breakable Page 22

  Then he froze. “Stace?” For the first time he sounded uncertain. Doubtful.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you going to come over here?” he asked quietly.

  “Do you want me to?”

  Mark didn’t move immediately, but when he did, it was with a sigh. He put down the wine, pushed the chips bag next to it, got to his feet, and took the five steps to where I stood, hugging my own arms for warmth.

  When he stopped in front of me I opened my mouth to tell him it was okay, that this was a mistake and he didn’t have to worry. But suddenly I was in his arms and he kissed me again.

  When he pulled away, his fingers ran slow circuits on my upper arms.

  “Didn’t you hear me before?” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting for this. Every time Dex touched you I wanted to punch him.”

  “Next time, you have my permission,” I said and laughed. Mark chuckled too, then we were both quiet. His hand slid up my arm, leaving a delicious, tingling trail behind.

  “Stace,” he said, in that tone I’d heard him use so many times before and craved to hear curled around my name. He took my hand and led me onto the blanket and, ignoring the sudden unease creeping up on me, I settled myself.

  There wasn’t much point in the wine or the chips because, honestly, as soon as he sat down and his thigh brushed mine, all I wanted to do was be in his arms again.

  I caught the front of his shirt as he turned to grab the drinks and he stopped. Whether he could see my face, or he just figured out what I wanted, he came back, one hand in my hair and the other on my waist and he kissed me. Then I was on my back, my head cradled in his arm. He lay alongside, curled over me.

  At first I let my hands explore his neck and hair, marveling in the freedom to touch him. But as his breath came faster and he pressed closer, my hands slid under his arms and down his back.

  His shirt was still loose. The front must have caught on my hip or something. It had ridden up to bare his lower back above his beltline.

  My fingers found his skin and I pulled him over me, letting my hands travel the curves and ridges of his back where the muscles bunched when he moved, then slid into a valley along his spine, rising again on the other side.

  He lay between my knees, kissing my neck, his breath a hot, frantic thunder in my ear. With a start, I realized his hands shook and I smiled through my kisses because I wasn’t the only one suffering nerves.

  Then he groaned and pressed his hips into mine, taking all his own weight on one arm as the other hand slid down my chest and stomach, down, under the hem of my skirt and back up, tickling the outside of my thigh with his gentle touch.

  I gasped and a tingling spiral of arousal tore from my knees to my throat. I pulled him closer, wanted him.

  He kissed a line from my ear to my shoulder and I almost groaned myself.

  “Have you got… I mean…” I gasped, sure of what I wanted, but horrified by the idea of saying it.

  “Don’t worry,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re safe. We’ll be safe.”

  I smiled. I did feel safe. I was with Mark.

  Terrified and ecstatic in the same moment, I followed Mark’s beltline with both hands until I found the buckle.

  Mark sucked in a shuddering breath when I tugged at it and his hand on my leg tightened.

  I imagined telling Older Me about what this was like. Would she be shocked?

  But then something came home to me with startling clarity.

  Karyn.

  She was cheating on Mark. Like this?

  Was I just like her?

  No. No, I would never do that to Mark. I pulled him closer. He groaned and his trembling hand slid up my thigh. I gasped into his kiss, tried to push away the thoughts bombarding me.

  …Karyn leaned into Mark’s arm and said something that made him smile. He nodded and touched her hair. They looked so comfortable together.

  Karyn was his girlfriend. She was a lying, cheating sack of pus.

  And she was also the reason he’d come prepared.

  “Stop! Stop!”

  I pushed at Mark and he sprang away like he’d been burned, landing on his side on the blanket.

  “What?! What? Did I hurt you?” he gasped, one hand on my stomach, his head strained up awkwardly to examine me in the dark.

  I sat up and pulled my skirt down over my knees. “You’re prepared?” My voice wavered.

  Mark sighed and rolled onto his back. “Yes,” he breathed, sounding relieved. “Don’t worry. I won’t get you pregnant or anything.” One hand drifted across my hip and onto my back to trace lazy circles there.

  I squirmed away from his hand, hating myself for doing it. “That’s not what I meant. You came here prepared. You came here with Karyn and you came prepared. This – us – it’s only happened because you guys fought.”

  Mark’s fingers drew away from my back and he propped himself up on one elbow. “You came here with Dex. You said you were prepared too.”

  The breathy heat was gone from his voice. He was uncertain – but there was a level of warning there too.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t…I didn’t actually want to. And as soon as I heard him talking, I was done. This… you… this is… something else.”

  Mark ran a hand through his hair, puffing a long slow breath between his lips. Then he sat up, cocking a knee to lean on it.

  “What’s the problem, Stace?”

  “You have a girlfriend, that’s the problem. And you came here ready to… to sleep with her. I’m second best. I’m only here because I’m second best. Only here with you because she left.”

  Mark sighed. “It isn’t… I mean…”

  “What would happen, Mark? If she found out?”

  He was silent. Did he hear the question I hadn’t asked? Would he still want me tomorrow?

  “This is stupid. You’re stressing about something that isn’t… I mean, we can’t know what’s going to happen in two hours, let alone tomorrow. Do we have to figure it out now?”

  But he was wrong. I could know what would happen tomorrow. And all of the sudden I had to know. I had to ask Older Me. Was this a drunken mistake? Were we going to do this, then Mark would go running back to Karyn tomorrow? Or wish he could?

  “Stace?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

  He reached for me, but I was on my feet and running before I change my mind. Mark called after me, but I knew if I let him touch me or talk to me I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d give myself to him. I wanted to.

  But Older Me had been right about the party and Dex…

  Mark’s touch, his kiss… it had stripped everything away. I was raw and open and his. If I let him have me and he threw me away… I wouldn’t recover. I would smash into a million pieces, too small for anyone to glue back together. It was that simple. I couldn’t handle having Mark tonight and losing him tomorrow. If she knew anything…

  Mark’s voice was startled, insistent, calling my name. A heavy thump, then he said something about Karyn too, but I closed my ears and kept running, running for the light of the house, running for the bathroom, running for a mirror.

  But in my head his hand trailed up my side, his fingers like cold comets leaving tingling trails on my skin wherever they passed.

  I sobbed and stumbled on the step to the porch, then ran on.

  Chapter Thirty

  I ran across the porch, heading for that side door.

  “Stacy! Wait!” Mark stumbled in the grass and my breath hitched.

  I found the door, wrenched it open and flipped the snick on the handle to make sure it would lock behind me.

  I wasn’t halfway across the room when he hit it with a harsh thump and the knob rattled. He banged on the glass of the door with a flat hand, but I was gone.

  Inside, music pumped a heavy rhythm through the old wall, voices cutting across it. Light divided the hallway into chunks of bright and dark as I tore across the slick floorboards and up the stairs. I dodged past Liam talking to
the guy from the deck. Both their mouths dropped open as I raced past them and up the stairs, but neither of them said anything.

  I was vaguely aware that the voices drifting up from the living room stopped when my feet pounded on the stairs, but they couldn’t reach me fast enough to stop me.

  I didn’t count on finding a dozen doors at the top, though.

  Footsteps and curious voices crossed the big room below, the light in the hallway went on below me and I ran into the first room I found, praying for a bathroom.

  Slamming the door behind me, I patted the wall until I found a light switch and flipped it on.

  I was in a huge bedroom with fluffy things all over the bed and lace hanging off every conceivable surface. A couple bags were thrown in the corner. But no one was there.

  Ignoring the massive window and the view of the sand, I made straight for the two doors in the wall. One was a walk-in closet, the other a half-bath.

  “Older Me! I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency!” My hands shook while I found the light, closed the door and locked it.

  “Older Me? Older Me!”

  Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. “Shtashe? You in there?”

  I could only stare at the mirror and whisper for her. “Please, please, I need you. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Shtashy?” It was Dex. Drunk. A gentle knock rattled the old door and I froze. “Shtashe, come out.”

  All at once anger and horror surged in equal measures. I wanted to throw the door open and knee him in the cods, leave him a sobbing mess on the floor. And I wanted to curl up into a ball and die of humiliation.

  More footsteps and voices I didn’t recognize.

  “Is she in there?”

  “Ugh, she’s probably puking. Leave her to it.”

  “She’s just being a drama queen.”

  Then a comment I didn’t catch and laughter from the hallway outside the room.

  “Shuddup!” Dex again.

  I shivered like the grass outside, caught in the wind off the sea.

  Then she was there. She appeared, standing in the mirror, arms wrapped around herself in a frightening reflection of me under the trees waiting for Mark.

  We stared at each other.

  She wasn’t wearing make-up, but something about the way her chin was up and her hair pulled back…she looked different.

  “You look–”I started, but she cut me off.

  “I shouldn’t be here. I have to be quick,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “I only heard you because I was in my room. I have to go back…” She turned again.

  Anger rose, pressing on my ribs, but I couldn’t yell at her or she’d leave. So I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep my voice down. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wasn’t joking. This is an emergency!”

  She swallowed, nodded. “What is it?” Why didn’t she sound curious? Why was she only interested in looking over her shoulder? Couldn’t she see I was freaking out?

  I gaped for a moment, but afraid she would actually take off again, I swallowed my irritation and opened my mouth, just as a knock sounded on the door and Dex’s voice came through, hushed and smothered like he had his lips right up against the crack in the door.

  “What’d you say, Shtace? I couldn’t hear you. Come talk to me, babe. I don care if you’re drunk. Ish okay.”

  Older Me’s head whipped back to face me, her eyes wide, alarmed. But she kept glancing behind her as, in a hushed whisper, I told her what I’d overheard earlier, how I’d avoided Dex since.

  She sighed, glancing around and back to give me a small smile. “So you didn’t–?”

  I shook my head. “No. I ran away and hid.”

  She jerked around, freezing in place. I plowed on. “But Mark found me and…”

  “Stacy, I have to–”

  “Shtashe?” Dex said softly.

  “Leave me alone!” I screamed at him. “I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave me alone!”

  I turned back to Older Me just as she stepped back. “I’m sorry, Stacy. Really.” Her voice shook. “But I have go to. Now.”

  “Wait!”

  “I can’t!” she hissed and started turning. But then she froze again, her eyes widened in horror and she whispered a frantic “No!” as the sound of a heavy door sliding on a hard floor rose from her side of the mirror.

  “What–?” I broke off as a man – tall and broad, a hair past trim, stepped into the frame. A man who looked familiar. Except…

  Older Me’s hands clasped to her mouth. She backed away. She tried to leave, I think, but he held her in place, turning as he did, so that I could see him clearly.

  Oh…My…

  His words were hushed, shoved between his teeth. “What happened? Why did you leave? They’re almost done and now they’re waiting for you.”

  “Mark?!” I gasped.

  Older Me covered her face with her hands, while the impossible Older Mark stepped closer, his voice growing more ragged, more angry, as he kept asking her what was wrong. Then he spied the mirror – I’d swear he looked right at me – and his lips pressed in tight.

  I was so stunned, for a minute I thought his tight, angry look was for me.

  “Mark?” we both whispered.

  His head jerked back to Older Me and he grabbed her arm, leaned into her ear, scowling. “Again? You’re doing this now? Those people are trying to help us – help you!”

  “Mark is…is Tom? Mark is your husband?!” I stumbled back. Marcus Thomas Grey. How had I never seen it before?

  Older Me flinched and wouldn’t look at me.

  “Just give me five minutes,” she hissed. “It’s group therapy. Having a crisis at some point is practically a requirement.”

  “This is out of control. You said you were getting past it–”

  “Go, Mark! Before I decide to raise my voice so they can hear me! Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

  He froze, one hand clasped on her arm. “You need help,” he said quietly. Coldly. They stared at each other, silent and angry, then he turned on his heel and stormed out. Older Me dropped her face into her hands.

  A second later the heavy slide sounded again. She flinched when it was followed by a slightly-too-loud bang of a door slamming home.

  I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe she’d hidden this from me. I couldn’t believe…

  I glared at her half-turned back, heart thumping in my ears. “That was Mark.”

  Her shoulders hitched.

  “That was Mark.” I hissed.

  Finally she lifted her face. Her reddened eyes met mine and she said the words that cut through skin and bone. “Stacy, Mark is my husband. He thinks I’m crazy. He’s had me committed. Twice.”

  “Mark?” I couldn’t have heard her right. It couldn’t be possible. Images whipped through my head, snatches of conversation with Older Me. I catalogued everything I knew about Tom…and realized it was next to nothing.

  “You told me you married a guy named Tom that you went to college with!”

  “Mark and I did go to the same college. He transferred before junior year. We…reconnected. By that time he’d already met his business partner. The other guy is named Mark too. Our Mark was already going by Tom, just to stop any confusion...”

  “You married Mark?!” A pain sliced through my chest, left me bleeding. “My Mark?” My mouth wouldn’t work. I couldn’t get the questions out. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t decide if I was furious or in heaven.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. He isn’t…he isn’t the one, Stacy. Believe me. Please. You can’t let yourself love him like that. He’ll hurt you. So bad. So bad…” Her words dissolved into sobs. I took another step back, but then stopped. Because the disbelief was fading, turning into heat.

  A spiky, searing heat that rose from my chest to engulf my head and threatened to spontaneously combust my hair.

  “I could have had him tonight,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I thou
ght… I left him because…” The things I’d thought cut through me. She could have told me. Mark loved her! Didn’t that mean he could love me too!? “Oh my–”

  Older Me shook her head. “It will be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

  “No.” She was wrong. The heat dissolved, morphed into despair. Certainty. “It’s all ruined. It’s all ruined because you lied to me. You didn’t tell me. I’ve ruined everything.”

  Older Me’s head snapped to attention. “What happened?”

  “I wrote a letter.” It was pointless to hide it from her any longer. Might as well light every last fuse and let everything blow because after tonight I didn’t have anything left.

  She shrugged, then frowned. “I did too. I wondered if you had. It’s ok–”

  “No, you don’t understand. I wrote it when I thought…thought he was falling for me.”

  “Oh, Stacy…” The pity in her tone made me wince. “I do–”

  “The thing is, I never gave it to him. I found out about Karyn. But I didn’t want to lose it, so I put it in my wallet.”

  It took about six seconds for her to understand the implications of that. Then she paled. “Finn stole your wallet.” She sighed. “Stacy, why didn’t you tell me? I went through that too. I thought maybe you’d skipped that part because you never mentioned–”

  “I thought I could get it back. It’s why I went to the party. And why I kept trying…it doesn’t matter. The point is, he’s threatening to show it to Mark. He’s certain if Mark reads it he’ll never want me…”

  Older Me sat back. Her hands kept opening and closing and her gaze flittered around the room. “It isn’t so bad,” she said slowly. “I mean, it’s not like people haven’t guessed how you feel about Mark.” She bit her lip. “It will be embarrassing, but…”

  I swallowed. “You wrote a letter too?”

  She nodded sadly.

  Hope rose in a wave. I swallowed again. Hard. “And so you told him…about us? And loving him? And–”

  “WHAT?!” Older Me leapt to her feet and came to the surface of the mirror until her nose almost met the glass. “You said what?! What did you tell him? What do they know?”