Only Pleasure(62)

"I love you the same, Cam," she whispered. "Always. Forever."

He held her to him, his gaze going to the ceiling again as he prayed Chase lost the battle he was fighting inside himself.

Losing Jaci would kill Cam. But having her completed him. It was a completion his brother and Kia deserved.



Chase stomped to the sink, jerked the whiskey from the cabinet, and sloshed the dark amber liquid into a shot glass before tossing it back and grimacing at the fiery blast that hit the back of his throat and flowed to his stomach.

Hell, it had been a long time since he'd done more than sip at the liquor. Many years since he had upended a bottle to see how much he could take in one long drink.

He'd set the liquor aside when he turned nineteen and had rarely looked back. Until now.

He thumped the bottle on the counter and turned away from it. He plowed his fingers through his hair and stared around the huge, open apartment. Living room, kitchen, and dining room were open, just as they were on Cameron's level. Two bedrooms, bath, and washroom were roomed off, though, but were large, open, and airy once a person stepped inside. And there was space to add rooms if he needed to, if he and Cameron did as they had once talked about doing. Raising their families here, always a part of each other. Always brothers and family.

Those plans had been developed too many years ago. The drunken ramblings of two young men with nothing to hold on to but the future. At the time, Chase had known it was his dream, not Cam's. Now Cam had a fiancée, and he was dreaming the dream, and here Chase sat, staring into the darkness amid the shit he had collected over the years.

Only in the past months had Cam begun picking from the family pictures Chase had kept when they sold their parents' home and property to fund the rest of their lives.

Chase had sworn, the day they sold it, that he would never again lose something that belonged to him. Cameron, too, had needed to sell it, to sever all ties with the county, the small town, where he had known nothing but hell. For Chase, it was bittersweet.

He'd taken the collected memories, the quilts their mother had made, the family pictures and albums, the mementos that were priceless to him, and he'd stored them until they bought this warehouse. Until he had built the rooms and brought in the past that created him.

One of the quilts was on his bed and others lay over the back of the couch, as well as the spare bed. His mother's prized bedroom suite was in the spare room. The antique dining set was carefully polished by the cleaning lady every week and sat peacefully in his dining room.

And here he was alone.

What the hell had he saved these things for? They didn't fill the hole he had always felt in his life, and didn't ease the bleak knowledge that there was no one to share them with. A knowledge he had only begun to realize.

I feel sorry for you, Chase. One of these days you're going to realize just how damned little anyone cares for you!

That accusation drifted through his head. Joannie Lemaster, his first live-in lover, hadn't exactly stinted on giving her opinion when he had walked out the door that night to return to work. He had been a federal agent, he had a job to do, and that night he had nearly died doing it.

He'd awakened in the hospital days later, and Joannie hadn't been there. When he came home, she had been gone. He'd walked into an empty apartment, and the loneliness had slammed inside him.

Several years later he remembered waking alone, sitting up in the bed, his chest on fire, a dream of death and blood so vivid in his brain that his first thought had been of his brother. The next day, he'd received the call he'd been dreading since Cam joined the military.

Cam was near death. They hadn't expected him to survive. He'd flown to Cam's side, certain he was going to lose the last link to anyone who truly knew him. And it was his fault. When he returned to the States with his brother, his new live-in lover had left, just as Joannie had. That one he had even put effort into. He'd tried not to be distant. He'd called her when he flew out of the country and called her daily until the day before he flew home with Cam. And she hadn't even told him she was leaving.

The part that had really hit him was that, that time, the abandonment hadn't even hurt. He'd made certain she was okay; he'd called and told her goodbye and gone on with his life.

He hadn't let himself get close to anyone; by then, he'd forgotten how to become close. He'd held his lovers at arm's length, and his friends even more distant. Only his brother was close to him, and Cam had his own shields in place. There was no risk. Chase had made certain there was no risk in his personal life.

Now there was Kia.

He wasn't letting go of her so easily. He had tried. God knows, he had tried to remain distant from her, but it hadn't worked.

He pushed her away with one hand and dragged her closer with the other. It was no damned wonder she was ready to throw something at him.