Sweet Dreams 2(81)

I put my hands on him, one at his abs, the fingers of the other one curling around his wrist as I whispered urgently, “Tate, honey, stop.”

Surprisingly he stopped, looked down at me and I winced when the burning power of emotion coming out of his eyes seared right through me.

“Baby,” I breathed the only thing my brain could think to say.

Then his arms came around me, one at my neck, one at my waist and he pulled me to him so violently, my head snapped back and my body slammed into his. He shoved his face in my neck, I slid my arms around him and held on.

“Hold on,” I urged.

“Fuck,” he whispered into my neck and his arms got tighter.

“Hold on, baby,” I whispered back as my arms got tighter around him and the tears welled over, spilling down my cheeks.

“Jonas,” he whispered.

“I know,” I said quickly.

“Fuck,” Tate repeated.

“Hold on,” I begged.

He held on and I held him while he was doing it.

After awhile, I pulled in breath and advised using the word, “Band-aid.”

His head came up and he looked down at me, his eyes carrying anguish.

“Like a band-aid,” I said gently. “We have to tell them quick, inflict the pain, make it fast, so we can start to deal with it.”

“Right,” he said.

“Call everyone to the house,” I ordered softly.

“Right,” he repeated.

“Baby?” I called and he didn’t answer, didn’t let me go, he just looked at me. I lifted a hand, put it to his jaw and whispered, “Love you.”

His eyes closed slowly, he opened them and they were no less bleak. He let me go, stepped back and his hand went to his back pocket.

Then he pulled out his phone.



Wood came to the house first because Tate arranged it that way.

Tate told Wood on the deck while I made coffee.

Then the sliding glass door opened, Tate came through and his eyes came to me.

“Go to him,” he ordered on a growl.

I nodded and moved immediately to do as Tate said.

Wood was leaning into his hands on the railing at the end of the deck, his eyes pointed to the trees.

I walked up to him and stopped a few feet away.

“Wood,” I called.

“Get the fuck away, Laurie.”

My head twisted to the side and I pulled in breath.

Then I walked to him and placed a hand gently on his back.

“Wood,” I whispered.

“Laurie, fuckin’ leave me be,”

My other hand went to his hip and I rested my forehead against my hand on his back.

“Wood,” I whispered.

Wood didn’t reply and I didn’t move.

This lasted a long time.

Then Wood said, “She was a goddamned mess.”

“I know.”

“For fuckin’ decades.”

“I know, honey.”

“Walked all over people, fucked with people’s lives, didn’t give a shit about anyone.”

“Don’t,” I whispered.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he whispered back.

“No,” I agreed.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he repeated and my head came up.

“No, honey, she didn’t.”

“My sister,” he whispered and I watched his head drop like he couldn’t hold it up anymore.

My arms went around him and I hugged him from behind. His hand left the railing and found mine at his belly, his fingers lacing through and he held on.

So did I.

And we did this until I felt his body tighten.

“They’re here,” he stated, let my hand go, I let him go and stepped away.

I stood by him and Tate joined us when Stella’s car pulled into the drive.

When Tate and I were working, or I was working and Tate was hunting, the deal was that Stella or Pop picked Jonas up from school and he hung with one or the other of them at the office at the garage until Tate or I could come and get him.

Today was no different.

Tate, Wood and I watched, our bodies turning slowly as the car made its way up the drive, Pop sitting up front by Stella who was at the wheel, Jonas in the back.

“I’ll finish coffee,” I muttered and quickly went into the house.

They didn’t need me there, not now. There was a time when I’d be needed, but it wasn’t now.

I went to the cupboard, pulled down mugs, went to the fridge, got the milk, slid the sugar across the counter away from the wall.

Then I heard it and I stopped. My hands pressed into the counter, my teeth clenched and my eyes closed tight.

It kept coming at me and the sound was so monstrous it felt like it was tearing away my flesh. If I felt like that, removed, how did Tate feel, being right there while Jonas was making that hideous noise?

The door slid open and I whirled around, opening my eyes and I watched Jonas dash through. He kept going but caught sight of me and skidded to a halt.