Page 49 of Back in the Country
“You could thankmeseein’ how I got it for usandreheated it so nice.”
She snorts and covers her mouth with her hand. When she finally gets herself under control, her smile is genuine as she presses her palm to my cheek.
“You are such a guy.”
“I’m offended.”
I’m not, but I throw in some faux outrage for good measure. Marlee shakes her head but she’s still smiling as she finishes her food. We eat in silence, but it isn’t as heavy as when we first walked in here.
“Way?” she says when we’ve pushed our plates aside.
“Yeah?”
“I need something else.”
“Anything.”
Marlee sits up and then swings her leg over mine until she’s straddling my lap. I groan as she rocks against me.
“Please, Way, I need this.”
I pull her flush against me so there’s nothing between us except a few layers of clothes. She kisses me with a desperation that I didn’t know existed, and even though my chest aches for the pain she’s feeling, I’m overwhelmed with knowing that she trusts me with her vulnerabilities.
“I got you.”
The words are whispered against her lips, and it’s a promise I keep all night long.
20
MARLEE
Iknock on the screen door and wait instead of walking straight into the house. Hank is like my brother, but it’s been a while since I’ve been home and I want to ease him into the tornado that is my existence.
Also, I’m trying to hide, so I’m trying for polite-ish.
I’ve been staying with Waylon at night and trying to give Sorren some space. It’s been a few days, but apparently it isn’t enough, because even just seein’ me this morning had my brother on edge. We didn’t fight, but we didn’tnot fighteither.
The footsteps are nearly silent, but his grumbling is not as the door swings open. Hank is easily the biggest of the Thayer men and crowds the doorway with his sheer size. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it, and he has it pulled back in a low ponytail. Also, his hair has natural highlights and commercial quality shine. I’m pretty sure he uses the same bar of soap top to bottom when he showers.
Life is so unfair.
“Waylon busy?” he quips.
Pasting on my best smile, I dig deep for my best southern drawl. “Well, howdy there, handsome, it islovelyseein’ you too.”
He rolls his eyes but his lips twitch as he opens the door a little wider. Sliding past him, I inhale the aroma of basil and garlic and walk to the stove where he has a large pot of sauce simmering. Loaves of freshly baked bread line the counter, and my mouth waters.
Hank makes thebestbread.
“Smells great,” I say while hoisting myself onto a stool at the island.
“Thanks.” Without me asking, Hank moves to the fridge and pulls out a couple of containers filled with finger foods and places them in front of me.
When Hank went to prison, it was easily one of the top five worst days of my life. He was innocent, but small-town politics kept him, and us, from being heard.
After a while, Hank asked us to stop fighting and to just let it go. He accepted a plea deal, and it broke Mama’s heart to watch him go away for those years. It wasn’t easy for any of us, but we did as he asked and counted the days until he came home.
Hank did his time and then was released on probation. I was only fifteen when he got out. He didn’t come home the carefree older brother I loved. He came back hardened and wary of the world, and it broke my teenage heart to see him like that. Mama and Daddy told him he could live in one of the cottages on the land. They recognized his need for space.
