Jagged cm-5 Read online

  “No,” I agreed.

  “And after the third, I really learned. After the third, I knew those words were empty. You can say anything but it’s what you do that says it all.”

  My hand in his hair clenched as where he was going with all this finally dawned on me.

  “Never said those words again, cookie,” he told me. “Women said them to me, didn’t believe it. Those words had lost their meaning.”

  Yes, I now knew where this was going.

  “Darlin’,” I murmured.

  “Then you said it.”

  I closed my eyes as beauty scored through me.

  Because when he said those four words, his voice was jagged.

  “Baby, come back to me,” Ham urged.

  I opened my eyes and his fingers still drifting over my face stopped as he cupped my cheek.

  “Suddenly, those words again had meaning,” he said.

  “They totally do,” I replied, my voice throaty.

  “Only ’cause you show they do,” he returned. “With all her bullshit, the way she burned me, time and again gutting me, Rachel taught me, and fuck but I learned, love is a show, it’s not a tell.”

  I nodded, swallowing, fighting the emotion that was building inside me.

  “All the time, people say one thing, but they do another. You feel somethin’ for them, you wanna believe what they say but you gotta learn to read what they do. I think, the other night, you got what I meant when I asked you to pay attention. But now, I’m sayin’ all this because I want you to know why that man is me. Why I couldn’t give you what you needed, say the words you needed to hear.”

  “I understand, baby,” I told him.

  “I love you, Zara.”

  My breath caught loudly in my throat even as my body bucked under his with the force of emotion that had built so high, it exploded inside me.

  Unthinking, overwhelmed, holding on to him tightly, I lifted my head, shoved it in his neck, and mumbled brokenly, “Ham.”

  His lips against my ear, his hand at the back of my neck squeezing, he whispered, “You get those words because you give them. You say them and you mean them. No bullshit. No lies. Not tellin’ me what I wanna hear to get my dick, my money, my protection, whatever the fuck it was that they wanted outta me. Nine years ago, you let me go so I could be the man I was. You took me only as I could give because you knew that was the way it needed to be for me. You gave me that because you love me. And I took it, fuckin’ up huge. But now, baby, you get it all back. Now’s your time where you get everything you need.”

  I loved all that, adored it.

  But part of it made me uneasy.

  So I dropped my head to the pillow, Ham lifted his, and when I caught his eyes, I asked, “You fucked up huge?”

  “Left you,” he answered.

  “Ham—”

  He shook his head and his hand came back to my face so he could press his thumb to my lips.

  “No. No, cookie. None of this shit woulda happened to you if I didn’t have my head so far up my ass back then.”

  “Ham—” I tried again but his thumb smushing my lips made it come out “Humm,” and he talked right over me.

  “I fucked up. We lost near on a decade. You endured some serious shit. You lost nine years of Zander—”

  I moved my hand to his wrist, pulling it slightly away, and told him, “You probably wouldn’t have known about Zander either. Dad went to great lengths to keep that from me.”

  His brows rose. “You think I stood by your side where I should have been, I wouldn’t have kept my eye on that asshole?”

  No, I didn’t think that. New, awesomer Ham, if he’d been able to be that Ham back then, would have definitely kept his eye on Dad if only to make certain Dad didn’t screw with me.

  “It’s done now,” I decided to say to let him know all was cool.

  “Babe, you lost your home. You lost your shop. You lost nine years of your nephew. You been sittin’ on millions of dollars you didn’t know you had for nearly three years. You got married to a guy you cared about but you picked him for safety, figured out you fucked up, cut those ties, and moved on but did it torturing yourself because you picked wrong even though he did too. None of that shit would have happened if I’d been where I knew when I fuckin’ drove away nine years ago I should have stuck. At your side.”

  My belly warmed at his words and my hand still wrapped around his wrist gave him a squeeze as I replied, “Okay, Ham, maybe all that’s true and I love it that you think that but don’t you think that even if you were here, other shit might have happened? You can’t protect me from everything. You can’t stop life from happening.”

  “You got love, you got someone at your back, when life happens, it’s a fuckuva lot easier to deal and move on and you know that, cookie.”

  He was not wrong. I did know that, having Ham these past months, and before that, having him look after me in the times when we were together (but weren’t), riding into town to come to my rescue when I most needed him.

  And that was when it hit me. All of it.

  So my body melted under his and both my hands moved back to his jaws and I shared, “You gave me that.”

  “Yeah, now. For the last coupla months. Not the last nine years,” he returned.

  “Kim died and you were there,” I whispered and Ham’s head jerked. “Kim got diagnosed and you were the first person I called. We talked for three hours, Ham. You listened to me cry, and in two days, you showed up at my house just to spend the night holding me then you had to go and drive back so you could work. I broke my wrist, you took a week off to be with me. Except for when I let you go, you were always there for me. And you let me let you go because you thought I needed that. And Ham”—I dug my fingers gently into his face—“when I lost everything, you were there and you gave it back.”

  By the time I was done speaking, his eyes were burning into mine and when I finished, he dropped his forehead to mine and groaned low, “Fuck, Zara.”

  “Rachel burned you, she gutted you, she killed your dream,” I whispered. “And that would mark anyone. It changed you, made you protect yourself, made you into the man you had to be. But if a woman loves you, truly loves you, baby, she lets you be the man you have to be. She doesn’t change you into the man she wants you to be.”

  And by the time I was done saying that, Ham had angled his head and crushed his mouth to mine.

  This was not a slow, tender, sweet, deep, long kiss.

  This was a hard, devouring, intense, wet, deep, long kiss.

  It was a show, not a tell.

  And it said everything.

  And when we were done, Ham had rolled us so he was on his back, I was on top, one of his arms was clamped tight around me, his other hand in my hair, holding my mouth to his, but when he let me lift my head, we were both breathing deeply.

  “I love you, Zara,” he growled.

  And I loved that.

  So freaking much.

  “I know, darlin’. I love you, too,” I replied.

  His eyes still burned but then that burn muted to a warmth I felt flowing through me in a way I knew, down deep, without a doubt, that warmth would never leave me.

  “I know, cookie,” he whispered.

  “Good,” I whispered back, then I watched Ham grin.

  It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  But even so, I grinned back, dropped my mouth to his, and kissed my man’s grin right off his face.

  * * *

  Late that night (or more accurately, early the next morning), we were in the truck after work, Ham driving, me with my phone to my ear listening to the voice mail Aunt Wilona left while I was lugging drinks around the bar.

  It was late. I was tired. I had a shitload of tips in my pocket because Ham had hired a band and the place had been packed.

  But, even as tired as I was, I was happier than I’d ever been in… my… life.

  “Aunt Wilona called,” I told him after I listened
to her voice mail and shoved my phone into my purse. “Says the next night we both have off, she’d like us to come over for dinner and she wants to know what you don’t like to eat.”

  “Eat anything, babe,” he replied.

  That wasn’t strictly true. The not strictly true part about that was that he didn’t quibble about food. It was just, if he didn’t like it, he left it on his plate.

  I made a mental note to share with Aunt Wilona the stuff I’d noticed Ham left on his plate and turned my eyes to the windshield.

  When I saw where we were, I felt my brows draw together.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Got a stop to make,” he answered.

  I looked to him. “At three thirty in the morning?”

  He was silent a moment before, gently, he ordered, “Bear with me, cookie.”

  Man, oh man, he’d asked me to bear with him once already that day, to spectacular results that lit my world with a rosy glow, so I had a feeling I needed not only to bear with him but bear up because as awesome as our morning was, I was not a girl used to awesome so I knew I had to prepare. Therefore, I shut my mouth and looked back to the road.

  Five minutes later, I opened my mouth because we’d turned into my old development.

  What on earth were we doing here?

  My eyes went back to his profile and I started, “Ham—”

  “Five seconds, baby.”

  I’d heard that before too, another time he’d colored my world with a rosy glow when he told me he’d come back to Gnaw Bone for me.

  I pulled in a breath, confused, uncertain, but since this was Ham, I let it out.

  Ham drove right to my old house, right up into the drive where he parked, and my heart started beating hard.

  I hadn’t been back since I packed up and left, a very unhappy day, and I was surprised by the way the house looked. Many foreclosures looked unkempt, what with no one to take care of the yard.

  Mine looked like it had when I lived there except the house had that empty feel any empty house had.

  Ham opened his door, I followed suit, and he was at my side when I’d jumped down. He slammed my door, grabbed my hand, and led me to the front walk.

  “Ham, this is weird and kind of—” I began.

  “Five more seconds, cookie.”

  I again shut up.

  Ham walked us to the front door. Not letting my hand go, he flipped his keys around and inserted a key in the lock.

  My breath caught.

  I forced it to flowing again so I could ask, “Darlin’, how’d you get a key?”

  He didn’t answer.

  He unlocked the door, shoved it open, and pulled me through with him.

  The blinds I’d left behind were pulled, the space almost dark so I could barely see a thing. Ham kicked the door closed with his boot so even the minimal light coming in from the streetlamps outside was extinguished.

  I knew where we were going by memory when he walked us into the house and stopped by where I knew there was a light switch.

  He flipped it on.

  When the lights came on, I stopped breathing.

  Mindy’s furniture was there.

  Also, in the built-in cabinets was Ham’s TV, under it the DVD player, cable box, and a new stereo and receiver. On either side of the cabinets sat two attractive standing speakers. Arranged in the built-in were my knickknacks, books, and what appeared to be Ham’s as well as my CDs, not filling the spaces but making it appear homey.

  My eyes drifted and I saw in the dining room a new oval, distressed dark-wood, gorgeous dining room table with six dark wicker, woven chairs all around. New attractive, green-and-blue woven placemats were on the table and even new matching napkins folded in rectangles on top of them. In the center of the table there was an enormous spray of blood-red roses, no baby’s breath, no greenery, just those stunning stems.

  Against the wall next to the table, there was a matching hutch and above it was mounted a large, black-and-white, beautifully framed print.

  A Cotton.

  And not just any Cotton (not that there was such a thing).

  It was a picture of “the old girl.” A picture Cotton took when he was with me.

  Breathing again but having trouble doing it, my eyes stinging, throat burning, I gently pulled my hand from Ham’s and wandered in two steps. Turning woodenly, I saw all my stuff in the kitchen, dishtowels folded over the oven handle, canisters on the counter, crock holding wooden spoons and spatulas sitting by the range, another huge spray of blood-red roses resting on the bar.

  Lips parted, vision swimming, I turned to see Ham standing in the entryway, arms crossed, watching me.

  “How?” I breathed.

  “Came up for auction, I bought it,” he replied.

  My breath hitched. I swallowed, opened my mouth, closed it, opened it, and asked disbelievingly, “You bought it?”

  “Months ago, cookie. Bought it with cash. It’s paid for. No mortgage. Then I waited until the time was right to bring you home.”

  Bring me home.

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even cope with all I was feeling.

  So I just stood there.

  “Talked to our landlord,” Ham carried on. “She got another tenant for our unit, so we were free to move. Your shit is sorted. Time was right. Made a couple of calls, folks I made a couple of calls to made a couple of calls. Your girls Maybelline and Wanda as well as Nina set all this up.”

  He jerked his head toward the dining room table.

  “Deluxe Home Store,” he said. “They got it at a discount. Maybelline, her husband, and Wanda’s gift to you.”

  I started deep breathing.

  Ham wasn’t done.

  “Obviously, Cotton gave you that print. The stereo and surround sound, I bought that, but Arlene arranged delivery and Mindy’s man, Jeff, set it up. Flowers are from me, too, but Arlene picked them up for me. Nina got Max to sort out some guys. They were waiting in the parking lot at our pad, saw us leave tonight, they got to work and did the heavy lifting. Nina, your girls Mindy, Becca, and Jenna, as well as Maybelline and Wanda, sorted the other stuff.” He jerked his head toward the built-in, obviously referring to the arrangement of CDs and knickknacks before he concluded, “Our clothes are in the closet. Your bed is in the guest room. Our bed is in our room. We’re home.”

  We were home.

  Ham had bought my house.

  We were home.

  I stood immobile, unable to move, but more, unwilling just in case movement would pierce the fragile bubble that had formed over this crazy-beautiful dream.

  Ham didn’t have a problem moving and he did so to come to me.

  But he stopped a foot in front of me, bent, grabbed my left hand, and lifted it. He held it between us, dug in his jeans pocket, and pulled his hand out. Arranging my ring finger straight with his thumb, he moved his other hand to it and my head dropped, this all feeling like it happened in slow motion.

  And it was then I watched his long, strong, calloused fingers slide a princess-cut diamond on my finger. It was simple, no adornment, set in white gold or maybe platinum. But the diamond needed no ornamentation. It was not small, not by a long shot. It wasn’t massive and ostentatious, either. But it made a statement.

  A huge one.

  Again I quit breathing.

  “Like I said,” Ham began and my head drifted back up so I could catch his eyes. “Now’s your time where you get everything you need.”

  “I love you,” I forced out in a whisper.

  “I know.” He did not whisper.

  “No. I love you,” I repeated.

  “I know, cookie.”

  “No,” I stated, his fingers still holding mine. I didn’t move but kept my eyes locked to his. “I love you, Graham Reece.”

  Ham said nothing but I knew he understood me when his eyes started burning and his hand, which had been gently holding mine, engulfed it, squeezing tight.
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br />   “You’re an unbelievable man, Ham,” I told him me softly.

  His burning eyes flared and his hand pulled me closer.

  But his lips ordered, “Shut it, honey.”

  His voice was jagged.

  “Best man I ever met,” I went on.

  With me closer, his free hand came up, curling around the side of my neck, sliding up and back into my hair.

  “Be quiet, baby,” he whispered, those jagged words tearing through me beautifully.

  “So fuckin’ strong,” I kept going.

  “Quiet, honey.”

  “So goddamned handsome.”

  “Cookie—”

  “Always there for me.”

  His hand cupping the back of my head pulled me up as his head came down and he crushed his mouth to mine.

  He let my other hand go so his arm could knife around my back. My arms circled his shoulders and we made out, hot and heavy, in our new house.

  It was the best kiss I’d ever had, even better than the ones he gave me that morning before and after he told me he loved me.

  Then again, this time, he was doing it after he put his ring on my finger and gave me back my house, so that was hardly surprising.

  When we were done, Ham kept me in his arms but shoved my face in his neck as he pressed his jaw to the side of my head.

  “You bought back my house,” I said there.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed what was proved all around.

  “You’re pretty good with show,” I shared in a massive understatement.

  “Glad you appreciate it,” he replied.

  “Though, that said, you’re also pretty good with tell,” I stated.

  “Pleased I got both bases covered,” he returned.

  “Just in case there’s a doubt, the answer is yes, I’ll marry you,” I told him.

  “Good to have that verified.” His voice was now holding a smile.

  “And, my guess, you corralled Maybelle into helping with all this, she probably likes you now,” I stated.