Hold (Gentry Boys, #5)(37)
Stephanie had looked at me for a long moment before absently nodding and then climbed out of my lap to go find her shirt. Then she ran into the bathroom and threw up.
I closed the supply cabinet and brushed my hand over the smooth metal surface. Once upon a time I’d been brimming with insincere charm. I’d known how to say the right words to get into any pair of panties I wanted. But I was a long way from the guy who would pluck a willing girl out of a college party and nudge her mouth toward my dick without giving a damn about who she was.
Goddamn, I was an *.
Those days ended the minute I got my hands on Stephanie. She was the only girl for me. So why the hell was it so tough for us to step into the pages of our happily ever after?
Maybe she doesn’t want to.
A gruesome thought. A terrifying thought. The kind of thought that made me remember that there was shit a guy could swallow if he wanted to numb a rush of mental anguish. It had been years since I’d been tempted by the drugs that ran my life for a while. I wasn’t even tempted now. Even the idea made me queasy. Back when I was still thick in the struggle between compulsion and conscience, a rehab counselor had told me I had an addictive personality, that my inner battles would always be waged more intensely. So far I’d won. I planned to keep winning.
Somewhere in a distant corridor of the library a child laughed. I took a deep breath to banish the sense of gloom and doom that threatened to erupt. Brooding in an empty room was the most depressing way I could think of to spend my time so I locked up the cabinets and hustled out of there.
The library was fairly crowded for a Friday afternoon, but that might be because it was a relaxing place to suck up free air conditioning in the middle of the stifling city. As I rounded a corner I caught a glimpse of the homeless fellow I’d seen out front several times. He sat quietly on a corner bench and paged carefully through a large book with glossy photographs of outer space.
Maybe he felt the weight of my stare because he looked up and a flash of worry crossed his face. He was probably used to being booted out of places for loitering. He needn’t worry, not about me anyway. I would never deprive a man of a comfortable spot to sit and read. I gave him a short nod of recognition and then kept walking.
The instant I pushed my way through the glass exit doors I felt the heat on my skin. The only thing that might be more punishing than summer in Phoenix would be summer in the outlying desert where there was never enough shade, never enough water. I knew all about it. So would anyone who had ever spent a July afternoon in Emblem.
“If Hell has a back pocket then that place would be Emblem.”
I’d read that line years ago. It was printed in a school history book, a direct quote from some unhappy eastern woman who’d followed her merchant husband out west to the territorial capitol over a hundred years earlier. If she were still around to take a look at the den of Benton Gentry then she’d probably think to herself that the words still applied.
As I made my way to the parking lot I looked at the city skyline and picked out the high rise where Stephanie worked. Briefly I weighed the idea of dropping in there spontaneously. I could sweep her into my arms and carry her out the door like that old Richard Gere movie.
But then I remembered how she’d rubbed her eyes this morning and mentioned the busy day ahead. She probably didn’t want to be carried out the door while wearing my hat like the couple in the movie. That was probably just as well. Especially because I wasn’t even wearing a f*cking hat.
Traffic was still light on the freeway that meandered east of Phoenix. In another few hours the whole metro area would be heading home in anticipation of the long weekend. I wasn’t excited about sitting alone in my apartment all afternoon so I thought about alternatives. Cord would be working down at the shop but he had his hands full with Deck gone and probably wasn’t available to shoot the shit. As for Creed, he tended to spend his afternoons at the gym or hugging his guitar so I didn’t really want to bother him.
But there was one door I could always knock on and count on a happy greeting. Fifteen minutes later I stood there and gave a series of short raps on the thick wood. A wrought iron cursive G hung right in the center. When a shadow darkened the peephole I waved.
“Chase!” Saylor opened the door wide and held out her arms. I returned the hug. Saylor McCann Gentry was more than my brother’s wife. She was my friend, one of the best friends I would ever have.
“Uncle Chase! Uncle Chase!”
Two squealing tornadoes – one blonde, one brunette – came barreling down the hall and collided with my legs. I hoisted each of the girls up in one arm and felt their arms curl around my neck.
“Ah, my two favorite nieces. You girls giving hell to your old Mom and Dad?”
“That’s a bad word,” Cami scolded with a frown.
“Your face hurts,” complained Cassie as she touched my cheek.
I swung them down to the floor. “Sorry, sweets. Uncle Chase forgot to shave today.”
Cassie nodded forgivingly. “That’s okay.”
Cami pulled at my arm. “Come see my room.”
Cassie pulled at my other arm. “Yeah, come on!”
“Hold on girls,” laughed Saylor. “Let Uncle Chase get through the door.”
Cami peered around me. “He is through the door.”
“I am through the door,” I agreed and winked at the girls, allowing them to propel me down the hall to the bedroom which looked like the belly of a cotton candy machine. Once I got there all kinds of orders followed.