Golden Trail (67 page)

She pulled back an inch and her hand dropped
to his chest. “What?”

“What you said made me think that maybe you
meant that it was refreshing, someone being honest because you had
someone not honest in your life.”

Her eyes drifted over his shoulder but she
wasn’t hiding from him, she was thinking.

Still, he ordered, “Roc, eyes on me,” and
her eyes came back.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t think
so but…” She trailed off, her face going unfocused, she was still
thinking.

Fuck.

He knew, looking at her, he was standing in
a field full of mines, he’d put himself there, and now he had to
find a way to get the fuck out or purposely jump on a mine which
might cause damage but do it with the hope his body didn’t blow to
smithereens taking Rocky with it.

“Sweetcheeks,” Layne called and she focused
on him. “Did your Dad ever talk to you about the facts of
life?”

A startled giggle erupted out of her and she
asked, “What?”

“Sex. How men’s bodies work. How women’s
bodies work, that kinda shit?”

“I learned most of that in school, Layne.”
She was still smiling.

“So he didn’t,” Layne surmised.

“Well, no, not exactly. He did say when I
told him you asked me out, and he knew who you were and how old you
were, and after we fought when he said I was
not
going out
with you and I told him I
was,
that if you laid a hand on
me, he’d rip your heart out. After he cut your hands off, that is.
But, other than that, he pretty much steered clear of the facts of
life.”

Layne had heard that story, not only from
Rocky but also from Dave and Merry. After they started living
together, it was a favorite tale for the three of them to cackle
over.

It was also not where he was leading
her.

“So, he left you to it,” Layne stated.

Rocky cocked her head to the side. “Left me
to it?”

“To learn that shit yourself.”

“Well,” she whispered as her hand started to
fiddle with the collar of his shirt. “I did, relatively young, find
myself a good teacher.”

Automatically, Layne’s arms gave her a
squeeze but he stayed on target. “What about your period?”

Her eyes shot to his and her fingers
arrested mid-fiddle. “What?”

“Who taught you about that?”

Her body started to tense and edge away so
his arms got tighter, Rocky read his message and gave up.

“Who?” he pushed.

“I learned that in Sex Education in Health
class in junior high,” she answered.

“When did you start your period?” Layne
asked.

For some reason, her eyes saturated with
fear, Layne braced and she asked back, “Why are we talking about
this?”

“I wanna know everything about you,” he
answered, it was lame but he hoped it would get them where they
needed to go.

“Well, I don’t remember,” she lied, every
girl remembered.

“Was it before your Mom died or after?”

Her body locked.

Fuck.

“Baby, was it before your Mom died or
after?”

“I don’t get why you want to know,” she
whispered.

“Tell me, Rocky, was it before your Mom died
or after?”

“Who cares?” Her voice was pitching higher
and the fear was stark on her face.

Fuck!

“Why won’t you answer?” he asked gently,
pushing carefully but unfortunately not treading cautiously.

“Because I don’t get why you care,” she
answered. “And anyway, it’s private.”

“Nothing is private between you and me.”

“
That’s
private,” she returned.

“It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“Baby, I’ve had my mouth down there, I know
you there, better than
you
know you there. I know how you
taste, how you feel, how you look –”

“Stop it,” she whispered.

“Why?” he asked.

She shook her head, both her hands going to
his chest and she tried to push away. Layne locked his arms,
trapping her torso just as he shifted and threw a leg over hers,
trapping her lower limbs.

“Why?” he repeated. “Why do you want me to
stop?”

She looked across the room still putting
steady pressure on his chest that fear on her face.

So Layne called up the courage she loved in
order to explore something that had been festering insidiously in
his brain since the secrets started and he asked, “Baby, what
happened that night?”

“Layne, let go.”

“Did Carson Fisher get to you?”

Her eyes cut to his and Layne’s chest seized
at the look of terror on her face as she started fighting him.

Fuck. Fuck. Jesus, fuck, no.

“Did he get to you?” Layne pushed even
though he really didn’t want to know, he had to know but more
importantly, Rocky had to face it.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“You didn’t tell the cops, it’s not in the
report. I pulled it and I read it. But you told your brother and he
told your Dad. He got to you, didn’t he? He got to you and he hurt
you.”

It was then, she heaved at the same time she
let out a grunt and made it to her feet. Layne was up right after
her, he caught her at the waist before she could run and he turned
her into his arms. She pulled back at the same time she pushed at
his chest with her hands.

“Layne!” she shouted, “Let me
go!
”

“You can tell me, baby, honest to God, you
can tell me. It changes nothing. Not one fuckin’ thing.”

“No!” she yelled. “No! He didn’t get to me.
Do you think my mother would
ever
let him get to me? No! I
didn’t even see him.”

“Swear it,” Layne pushed.

“I swear,” she hissed. “And I started my
period
after
Mom died. The
week
after Mom died. Dad
was in the hospital and I couldn’t ask Merry so Gram took me to the
grocery store and she helped me pick what I needed and she was
sweet about it but I didn’t want her there. I wanted Mom there. I
could talk to Mom about that shit. Mom would have known what to do,
what to say. The cramps hurt so goddamned much and I bled a lot, it
lasted
a day.
It scared the
fucking shit
out of me. I
didn’t want a lifetime of
that.
Gram tried but she wasn’t
Mom. She’d never be Mom. I couldn’t talk to her about it, ask her
questions. I couldn’t talk to
anyone
about it except my Mom
and she was
dead.
Until I was thirty, my periods were the
worst. They made me feel like shit, they brought on a lot of pain
and I bled out fast. I
hated
them so much I
dreaded
them. They’re still not my favorite things to have nor are they my
favorite things to talk about. But there you go. The story of my
fertility. Happy?”

“Yes,” Layne replied honestly, her body
jerked with surprise at his answer then went still in his arms.

“Yes?” she asked.

He dipped his chin and put his face close to
hers. “I’m a guy, a guy who grew up without a Dad. Shit happens to
you, you want someone to talk about it with. So, I get what you’re
sayin’ more than pretty much anyone would get what you’re sayin’.
You needed your Mom and she died the week before you needed her.
That would suck, baby. What I need you to know is, growin’ up
without a Dad,
I get it
and that means you can talk about it
with me.”

She stared him in the eye for long moments
before her body relaxed and she whispered, “Layne.”

“You don’t have to hide anything or be
embarrassed about anything, not with me. Yeah?” Layne stated.

“Yeah.” She was still whispering.

Layne took in a breath. Then he let it
out.

Then he realized he’d made it through the
minefield without getting blown to pieces, Rocky was safe and in
one piece in his arms and he relaxed.

When he did, he noticed Rocky watching him
with a look he couldn’t read on her face.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

“I don’t really need to process my period
anymore, Layne,” she said softly. “I’m kind of used to it by
now.”

“You get embarrassed,” he told her
honestly.

“I lived with two men, one of them a
teenager, they avoided any of my period paraphernalia like the
plague. And, newsflash, sweetheart,” she put her hand to his jaw,
“you’re also a man.”

“Yeah,” Layne smiled, “but I don’t have any
hang ups about that shit.
I
grew up alone in a house with a
woman.”

Her mouth got soft.

“And I just want you to know you’re safe
with me, always safe with me, with anything,” he told her.

Her lids lowered but not to half-mast, they
closed and when they opened, her face was openly troubled.

“You’re worried I’m going to leave you,” she
whispered, surprising Layne by taking it right to the point.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, his arms getting
tighter around her, her hand slid from his jaw and both her arms
closed around his neck.

She pressed into him and she did this deep,
getting up on her toes so her face was close to his. He looked in
her eyes and there was an intensity there, so strong it felt like
her eyes were burning into his.

“Don’t let me leave you,” she whispered so
quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

But he heard her, he not only heard her, he
understood what she was saying and his chest seized, his gut
twisted but his arms got even tighter.

“I won’t,” he whispered back, his voice was
quiet too and thick.

“No matter what.” She was still talking
low.

“No matter what,” he replied.

“Promise.”

“I promise, baby.”

She held his gaze then she asked softly,
“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You told Marissa, when she found another
man, not to tell him about her past.”

Oh fuck.

He wasn’t out of that minefield yet.

“Yeah,” he answered carefully.

“Honestly? Do you think, even if she finds a
good guy, a
really
good guy, she shouldn’t tell him?”

“What are you really askin’, baby?”

“I’m asking about Marissa.”

“Then, if you’re askin’ about Marissa,
yes.”

Her head moved back half an inch. “Because
you think he’d think less of her? Judge her?”

“No, because she deserves to be loved for
who she should have been, who she’ll be, not despite what was
forced on her.”

He heard Rocky suck in breath and her eyes
went back to intense and seeing it, he decided he’d managed not to
get blown to bits yet again, he’d managed to hold her together and
she’d made him promise never to let her go. He could do that. He
could make her stay. He had her permission. Whatever it was, when
they finally faced it, he had her permission to do what he had to
do to make her stay.

Thank Christ that was done.

He also decided she’d had enough for one
night, so had he, and it was time to move, the fuck, on.

So he lowered his head to take her mouth but
her head went back another half inch and he stopped.

When he did, his eyebrows went up and Rocky
whispered, “I need to go upstairs and get ready. My man’s
hungry.”

And before he could say a word, she pulled
out of his arms but she did it with both her hand trailing along
his neck and down his chest before she turned and strutted up the
stairs.

Layne watched until she was out of sight,
going so far as to move to the foot of the stairs to enjoy the
whole show.

Then he cleared away the pizza and beer,
checked that the apartment was secured, turned out the lights, went
upstairs and ate dessert.

Nothing Means Everything

“Layne,” she whispered, pressing into him,
her fingers digging into his neck.

Layne opened his eyes, dipped his chin and
saw her staring up at him, her eyes burning.

“Tripp.” She kept whispering, her body
pushing into his, hard, like she wanted him to absorb her, her
fingers digging into his tense neck so hard he felt pain. “Tripp,”
she repeated, her voice scared.

* * * * *

Layne’s eyes opened and he heard his cell
phone.

Rocky shifted and then came up on an
elbow.

Another dream. Another fucking, shitty,
fucking dream.

“Baby,” Roc whispered, “your phone.”

Layne rolled, putting a hand to the floor,
reaching out with the other one, he yanked his jeans toward the bed
and pulled his cell out. He pushed off the floor, rolling again to
his back as his eyes slid across Rocky’s clock to see it was ten
after eight.

They’d seriously slept in.

The phone stopped ringing by the time he
settled back. He flipped it open and looked at his received calls,
Rocky moving into him again.

Tripp. Tripp at eight o’clock on a Saturday
morning. The boys had to be at the pool with the team but not this
early.

Fuck.

“Who was it?” Rocky asked.

“Tripp,” Layne answered, scrolling down to
his son’s phone number in his contact list, he hit go.

Rocky pressed closer as Layne listened to it
ring, his body tense because of the time and because of a phone
call from his son at that time and because of his fucking
dream.

It rang twice before Layne heard Tripp
saying in his usual Tripp way, “Yo Dad!”

Layne pulled in breath.

Then he let it out while replying, “Yo, Pal.
You called. What’s up?”

“I was actually calling Rocky but she wasn’t
picking up. I thought you might be with her.”

Rocky’s phone was likely in Rocky’s purse
which was downstairs on the bar in the kitchen.

“Why’d you want Roc?” Layne asked, shoving
an arm under Rocky, his forearm going up, his fingers beginning to
play with her hair.

“Need to check somethin’,” Tripp
answered.

“What?” Layne asked.

“Girl stuff,” Tripp answered.

Layne looked down at Rocky who was gazing up
at him.