Love Brewing (Love Brothers #3) (14 page)

Then

Dominic glared down at the ratty carpet, ignoring Gina’s
complaints as best he could. But the woman had the sort of dog-deafening,
ear-piercing voice that would not be denied attention. He dropped onto the
mattress, exhausted in body and spirit, as Gina paced the small room, hands on
her back, her stomach sticking way out in front of her. His head pounded with
anxiety. The room darkened, then lightened, which reminded him that his
internal chemistry was readjusting itself again.

“I hate this hillbilly town, Dominic. I want to go home.”

Now that they were stateside, she’d dropped her exotic
foreign-ness and regressed into the Bronx she’d left behind. It grated on him
in so many ways, but he wouldn’t allow anger to take hold. She was going to
have his child. He had to be a man now, or at least give a good performance at
being one.

His vision sharpened, allowing him to see outlines of things
he normally missed—the ripped wallpaper dangling from a corner of the room, the
drops of rain beading up on the single window over the kitchenette sink, the
way Gina’s lank hair dragged the tops of her shoulders.

He groaned and draped his arm over his eyes. He hated this
stage. The hypersensitive vision and hearing he’d develop as he detoxed was
familiar and awful at the same time. But he’d be damned if he’d ask his father
to pay for the new drugs, despite his mother’s insistence that she’d make sure
he did. The man had barely acknowledged his existence for the past two months,
letting the current brew master boss Dom around like some kind of non-relative,
neophyte gopher.

Antony had gotten up his face a total of once over it,
sensing his withdrawal symptoms almost better than he did. But Dom had put an
end to that with a couple of hard hits to the sorry so-and-so’s jaw.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life when you won’t even come
out of the house or see your own daughter, you colossal ass.”

“Dominic,” Gina whined. “Let’s just go. Nobody likes me
here. They barely like you. Your brother’s all fucked up and your mother has to
take care of that squally kid.” She dropped onto the mattress beside him. He
shifted away, not wanting her to touch him.

Ants crawled over his skin. A regular squadron of them
paraded across his scalp. He itched everywhere. His legs were twitchy. He jumped
up and headed for the fridge, praying he’d remembered to bring home a few
samples from some recipes he’d been monkeying with on the pilot system.

He grabbed the growler and drank half of whatever it
contained, barely tasting it but welcoming the fizziness on his tongue that
heralded the alcohol heading into his system. Gina propped up on her elbows. He
glared at her.

“I hate you. I’m leaving.”

“Whatever,” he replied, barely registering her words, unable
to rip his gaze from the way his fingers looked, hanging onto the bottle for
dear life. She claimed to be
leaving
pretty much every day. But he
figured she wouldn’t, now that Lindsay dragged her to breathing classes and to
the doctor every other day. He flinched at the sound of the slamming door,
knocking the bottle to the floor.

He looked down at it, marveling in a detached way how the
remaining amber-colored brew puddled at his feet and the shards of glass
glittered like gems. His eyes burned, his shoulders ached. He longed for one
thing—to have Diana Brantley in his arms.

He got up with a curse and wobbled the few feet between the
table and mattress before flopping down and welcoming the darkness.

The jangling phone woke him. He crawled over to where it sat
perched on a cardboard box. “What,” he barked into the cracked receiver.

“Dominic Sean, where is Gina?” His mother’s voice sounded
tenser than usual.

“Uh…not sure, why?”

“I just got a call from Pauline down at the Publix. She says
she saw the girl weaving around like she was drunk in the parking lot. You’d
best get over there.”

“Mama, I can’t be responsible for her.”

“I’m gonna pretend I did not hear that fall out of your fool
mouth. Get off your butt. Go get her. She’s carrying my grandbaby.”

He groaned and threw the receiver across the room. No one
understood him. Nobody gave two shits about his wellbeing. It was
the baby
twenty-four seven. He tried to get up, but felt set in slowly firming concrete.
His feet weighed ten thousand pounds each. His neck ached when he raised his
head. The darkness beckoned him like a lover.

When he woke again, the apartment had gone pitch black and
smelled like the inside of a beer bottle. Dom sat up, relieved that the
mired-in-mud sensation had passed. But his head ached and his stomach clenched
with hunger. The buzz-buzz of an off-the-hook phone made him curse. He snagged
the thing and slammed it down in the cradle about a split second before it
jangled, making him wince in pain.

“Yeah,” he grunted into it, wondering if there was any food
in the fridge.

“Dominic, I’m at the bus station in Lexington. You gotta
bring me some money.”

“Uh, what?” He tried to get his addled brain to focus.
“You’re where?”

“The goddamn Greyhound station. Get up here and give me
ticket money.”

“Where’re you going?” He sat on the mattress, heart in his
throat, the realization that he hovered on the verge of failing at something
he’d never be able to fix giving him chills. “Gina?”

“Home, you fucking idiot. Bring money.” She hung up. He
jumped to his feet, found jeans and a sweatshirt, and pounded down the metal
steps to the family truck, driving on autopilot the thirty-some miles between
him and the woman he hated but couldn’t let go.

She was silhouetted by the weak light of the station, hard
to miss given the way she seemed swollen and bent backward by the weight of the
baby she carried. Leaving the engine running, he leapt out and reached for her,
desperation clanging inside his head and chest like the world’s loudest cymbal
concert.

“Let go ’a me,” she snapped. A couple of nosy guys hovered.

“This guy botherin’ you, hon?” one of them asked, giving
Dominic the evil eye.

“Fuck off, old timer,” he muttered then glared at Gina.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re not leaving. Let’s go home.”

“You’re deaf and stupid. I am going home. My home.” She
winced and rubbed her belly. “Damn kid. I shoulda stayed at that clinic and
never told you.”

He clenched his jaw. “Look, Gina, I get it that you don’t
like me, but let’s just go home and….”

“You are the biggest loser on the planet, Dominic. Now give
me ticket money so I can get the fuck out of your life.”

“You can’t.” But he pulled out his wallet even as he spoke
the words. “The…baby….”

“Yeah, since I’m pretty sure you don’t want it either, it’s
win-win for you.” She held out her hand. He put a stack of twenties in it he’d
just gotten for some construction work he’d picked up the weekend before. “I’m
still stuck with your brat. But better that and stuck with you, your brat, and
your nosy mama.”

“Don’t speak about her that way.”

When Gina laughed in that harsh, nasally way he used to find
cool, it grated on every single one of his exposed nerves like a fork on a
plate. He lunged for her, intending to grab her and hustle her into the truck.
This was him, being responsible, acting like a man and not letting her run off
even though part of him agreed with her assessment of his enthusiasm level
about being a father at twenty-three.

But she screamed so loudly he took a step away from her
right before the
old timer
landed a left hook to his nose. He dropped to
his knees, blinded with shock and pain, blood spurting from between his
fingers.

The man blocked his view of Gina, fists clenched. “Go on
now. Beat it,” he said mildly. “I’m figuring this girl is all done with you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, furious at her and at himself for
feeling so unabashedly relieved she was leaving. “Fine. But you have to let me
know when….” He pointed at her belly, feeling like an idiot.

She turned away from him without a word.

He sat in the truck, two hundred dollars poorer, with a
sick, hollowed out sensation in his gut. How in the name of all that was holy
would he be able to break this little news flash to his mama? Groaning, he put
his forehead against the steering wheel, mind spinning from one potential
conversational opening to another. When he finally put the truck in gear, he
pointed it south, then down Yellowbird Road as if drawn by a magnet.

He sat in the Brantley’s driveway, contemplating his reasons
for coming there. When Diana appeared on the side porch, it was as if a boulder
had just been taken off his chest.

Diana knew who sat there, as surely as she knew her own jean
size. But as much as she longed to run to the truck and drag him out of it and
back into her life, she didn’t. She couldn’t. He was not for her, not anymore.

Jen emerged from behind her, taking off her apron. “Okay,
dishes are done. Mama and Daddy are packed for their trip and gone to bed.” She
squinted out into the gloom. “Who’s here?”

Dominic chose that moment to emerge, standing by the open
truck door, looking for all the world like an unhappy orphan.

Diana took a second to frown at her sister. “Don’t start,
okay?”

“I won’t. You don’t listen to sense when it comes to him
anyway and never have. I’m going to bed. Alarm’s set for early so we can make
sure we get them on the road in time.”

Diana nodded, keeping her eyes on Dom. Her parents were
taking a rare vacation, driving down to a friend’s house on Kentucky Lake for a
week. Her Daddy had been so excited about his new tobacco deal, he’d taken some
of the advance cash and bought a new car, and a long-delayed re-roofing for the
house. Diana had come home to take care of the animals while they were gone,
figuring her half-assed attempt at college not worth the trouble anyway.

They regarded each other across the lawn, which gave her
time to reconsider, then re-reconsider her next move. Even as she walked down
the steps toward him, she knew something had gone wrong and he had come for
solace. And she would provide it, as usual.

Now

They only had two weeks to go until their first official
booked event, but construction delays had everyone on edge. Diana’s carefully
targeted dates, detailed plans, calendars and schedules seemed to be going up
in smoke, but she refused to listen to the trite advice that it always took
five
times more money and five times as long
. It couldn’t take five times more
money. There was no more damn money. She stayed up nights over it, chest and
throat burning with anxiety about the loans coming due.

Luckily, she had Dominic to distract her—day and night, it
would seem.

She spotted the light on the far barn where he sat and
waited for her. The smooth curvature of the bourbon bottle in her hand soothed
her. The long drink she took from it went even further toward that end.

She and Dominic came together every single night in a tangle
of sweat, limbs, lips and fingers, doing it standing up, laying down, sitting
in chairs, out in the open once or twice. No matter how furious she would be at
him during daylight hours, she craved him like an addict craves his next dose
of poison once the sun set. The whole sordid arrangement gave her life a sort
of twisted, sex-soaked, fantasy-bubble aura.

Stress from the yelling matches other over things she
claimed he fucked up and he insisted she over-planned, piled up in her gut,
until her heartburn flared and her head pounded. But she’d make dinner every
night, the angry silence between her and Dom as thick as pea soup. Angelique was
still flopping at Diana’s, claiming she had too much to work out with her mama
to leave just yet, so she’d clean up and Diana would ride, pushing the horse to
its limits just to clear her head.

Jen and Dale had learned to steer clear of the house by then,
unwilling to get drawn into the vitriol. Dale claimed Diana was taking out
unnecessary drama on Dominic, whom he’d given full responsibility when it came
to the barn renovation. Jen claimed Dom acted like a fucking Napoleon,
strutting around in charge and discounting hers and Diana’s concerns about cost
and timing overruns.

But as night fell, after her ride and shower, she’d spend a
while contemplating how she’d leave the bastard high and dry without his roll
in the hay, until her insides would slowly melt, recalling how he felt, tasted,
and how incredibly perfectly they fit together—still. This was their
routine—one that never deviated despite her toe-curling desire and simultaneous
inability to end it. The night before, she’d gone out to his makeshift camp in
the new barn office and hesitated in the doorway, bracing inside the frame as
if it would keep her from launching at him.

He’d risen to his feet, stark naked, glistening from a
shower, his body mesmerizing her and more than ready. When he held out his arms
she’d gone to him. That night, they made love slow, easy, and sweet, not going
at each other like desperate animals for a change. She’d lain next to him for a
few minutes afterward, but then gotten off his damp mattress and put on her
clothes in silence. He’d grabbed onto her at the last minute, his voice low and
desperate-sounding.

“Don’t leave me,” he’d whispered.

She’d shaken her head and left as she usually did, with
minimal words to mess up the moment.

And here she sat, past the dinner hour, stomach grumbling
and head spinning from the booze, ordering her thoughts for the looming
conversation. Lee would be home in two days, after a three-and-a-half-month
stint at the Wyoming horse ranch. She missed him. But she wanted him to stay
away, to leave her to her frantic coupling with the man she’d loved, and hated,
and loved for most of her life. He
should
stay away. Lee Tolliver was
too damn nice for his own good and did not deserve to be treated like this by
his own fiancée.

Diana groaned and put her head on her damp arm. She and Lee
talked every night, usually right after she’d been out fucking Dominic. Lee
loved her. She loved him. It was such a stupid mess and she had no on to blame
but herself.

The night before she’d been sobbing after her surprisingly
tender encounter with Dominic and he’d done his usual worried, soothing,
calming and utterly irritating thing with her from afar.

“I’m home in two days, Di. I’m gonna take you away for a
long weekend. I want to get reacquainted without the usual crowd of
people…watching.”

“Okay,” she’d sniffled, knowing that would be ridiculous.
She had a business to run. One that would be getting ten times more complex in
about a week. “Hurry, please.” The guilt clogging her throat made it hard to
breathe.

She spotted Dominic walking across the lawn, headed for the
house. When the screen door slapped shut, she turned to him with extreme
reluctance, more conflict roiling around in her than ever before. He waited, a
stalk of hay in his mouth, dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and faded,
too-tight Lucasville High T-shirt, grinning at her.

“Honey, I’m home. What’s for dinner?”

She shook her head, words drying up in her mouth like cotton
balls.

“Let’s go the movies,” she blurted out.

“Uh, okay, where?”

“Drive-in,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the plan
formed in her head. “Grab the cooler and pack up some beer. I’ll pull something
out of the fridge and get a quilt.”

He tilted his head, observing her a minute before shrugging
and heading down to the basement. She sucked in a breath. His ability to go
with the flow had always impressed her. As opposed to Lee, who planned his
meals a week in advance. Not fair, she knew. It didn’t make him a bad person,
just different.

She pictured him then, his easy grin, raven’s wing-black
hair and blue eyes. “I do love you,” she whispered into the empty room, not
knowing who she spoke to, but even more positive Lindsay had been right to
confront her and make her own up to this thing she’d been doing with Dominic.

They headed to the one remaining drive-in movie theater,
dressed for the spring night in jeans and flannel shirts, the silence
comfortable between them. At one point Dom reached over and threaded his
fingers in hers. She’d allowed a second to enjoy it then let go, putting her
palms on her knees so Lee’s engagement diamond remained in clear view.

They paid and he found a spot, turning the truck so the bed
faced the screen. Her heart ached for the many times they’d been here, done
this as she got out and arranged the quilts so they could prop their backs
against the cab, the cooler between them. Once the place filled in a bit more
and darkness fell, Diana glanced over at his profile and reached across the
cooler to touch his jaw.

He seemed so deeply unhappy, her breath caught in her
throat. “We gonna make out, or what?” His low, gravely, familiar voice filled
every corner of her weak-willed consciousness.

“No. Dom, I have to tell you something.”

“If it’s that you’re pregnant then save it for after the
movie, willya?”

“I’m not.”

“Whew, that’s a relief.” He grinned, holding up his beer
can. She touched hers to it, heart heavy. They sipped, and ate bacon, lettuce,
tomato sandwiches, laughing with the crowd at the antics of the Ghostbusters.
“Remember, we saw this together, right here, I’m guessing.” He leaned over to
stick his tongue in her ear.

“Cut it out.” She pushed him away. “Yeah, we did. Right
after Gina dumped you, you came crawlin’ back to me and I took you in. Again.
After which you proceeded to dump me—again, you rat bastard. And I still don’t
know why you did it that time.”

He grimaced and moved away from her. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m the idiot who keeps letting you
resume your position—the one between my legs.”

He chuckled and leered at her. “What can I say? It’s my
happy place.”

“God, Dominic, don’t be so flip and let me....”

He shoved the cooler out from between them before she could
protest and tugged her down to his lap, his fingers threaded in her hair, his
lips on hers. Taking every ounce of willpower she possessed, she broke from him
and sat, breathing heavily, the taste of his lips ghosting through her for what
she swore would be the last time.

“You got married right after that. After I….”

“After you helped me while I dealt with my parents getting
killed and finding out the truth about my daddy’s non-existent tobacco deal. I
do appreciate you for that.” She retreated to the corner of the truck bed,
knees pulled up to her chest. “But I caught you with, God, what was her name?
Right in your apartment, after you gave me the key if I remember right. Jesus,
you have a self-destructive streak six miles wide.”

Dom ran a hand around the back of his neck, keeping his
distance.

“Never mind. Water under the bridge. Sorta like my ricochet,
rebound, quickie marriage to whats-his-name.”

“Nice,” he muttered, irritation in his voice. “I’m scared of
you, Di. You terrify me.”

Rough, unhappy laughter spewed out of her. “Oh, God…sorry.”
She wiped her streaming eyes as legit hysteria hovered dangerously close to the
surface. Dom just glared at her. Finally, once she got control, she took a
breath and let her legs splay out in front of her. “Dominic Sean Love, you are
nothing but a class-A man-whore, incapable of having anything like an adult
relationship with anyone for very long. I realize part of it’s your illness. If
you’d just stay on the medications the professionals give you, I’m willing to
bet you’d be a lot happier.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

“How did you meet him?”

He flinched, then got to his feet. “I’m over this.”

“Sit down. We have to talk.”

“Fuck you and fuck talking. I like it better when we’re
screwing.”

“Tell me about him,” she insisted, tugging at the leg of his
jeans. He sat down, flipping off the car behind that had honked when he’d
blocked their view.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” A familiar petulance had
crept into his voice, giving her a modicum of strength. This she could, and
would, deal with. If for no other reason than she’d promised Lindsay Love she’d
do it.

“You have to. Tell me how you met.”

“Online,” he grunted out, grabbing another beer and drinking
half of it one gulp. “Don’t ask me why I was trolling either. It has a lot to
do with trying to alleviate my guilt over screwing you over, which you can
choose not to believe. I needed something to…distract me.”

She took a long breath. “Was he your first….”

“Yes, Diana. Kent was the first man I…I fucked. I’m not gay.
I just…wanted to try…and….”

“But you fell in love with him.”

“No.” Dom’s voice had a tightness to it she recognized as
the precursor to him bolting. She tried to neutralize the situation.

“Honey, it’s all right.” And at that moment, Diana found a
sort of peace in her soul that she’d never experienced. Watching Dom, one half
of his face lit from the movie screen, the other in darkness, as his utter
misery over the man revealed itself gave her a jolt of resolve to make this
right—for both of them.

“You don’t understand,” he insisted.

“I don’t understand being so completely in love with someone
I’d do anything to avoid them? I don’t understand what it’s like to want
something I can’t have so fucking bad I have a damn ulcer over it? I…I don’t
understand?” Furious at him for forcing her to reveal long-toted emotional
baggage, she attempted to calm her ragged breathing.

He blinked at her outburst. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is. So let me tell you right now that I understand
it completely. And know that it’s high time for you to face up to it.”

“What difference does it make?” He crushed the can and
tossed it against the truck bed wall. “It’s over. I’m not that guy. I can’t be
that guy. I won’t be that guy. I want to be your guy, Diana. Please let me.” He
moved fast, had her pulled down onto the soft, quilty nest she’d built, his body
pressed against hers, her arms pinned at her sides.

He has a way about him
.

Dominic’s mother’s words wafted through her brain.

Diana closed her mind to that, and opened her lips, meeting
him more than halfway with the sort of urgency he never failed to bring out in
her. He shifted and she unzipped his jeans, fisting him, the addict in her
sucking down deep, long drafts of her personal poison. He slid off her so he
could reach into her panties, teasing her flesh, kissing and muttering, their
movements quick, practiced and illicit, as the movie played on over their
heads.

She lay there breathing heavily, the smell of his spunk in
her nose, her body shivering in the aftermath of a Dom-induced orgasm. He
propped on his elbow. She sat, wiping her palm on his shirttail.

“Kent contacted your mother. He’s found…he knows where your
son is. His name,” she gulped, unable or unwilling to look up and see how Dom
reacted to the news. “His name is Jace. Gina’s dead and the boy’s been in
foster care, and it’s not good. He, Kent, is bringing him home…next week from
New York.”

“You…he…I’m not…son of a bitch.”

Dom zipped his jeans and jumped up, earning more angry
honks.

“Be calm and let’s talk about it.”

“I never asked him to do that.” Dom slid down next to her,
his whole body shaking. She wrapped him in the quilt and held him close. “I
never asked him….”

“I know. It’s okay.” She pressed her lips to his hair, and
took one, last, long breath of him. “But as of right now, we are officially
only friends again—the kind without benefits. I love you, Dominic, and I have
for so long I’m sure I won’t know how it feels not to. But I
can’t
love
you anymore. I’m marrying Lee. I
love
Lee. He will take care of me the
way I deserve.”

They drove home in a different kind of silence. When Dom pulled
into the drive, he kept his gaze on the nearly finished old barn, then turned
to face her. His eyes had gone dark. She knew what that meant all too well.