Garnet Flats (The Edens)
Garnet Flats: Part 3 – Chapter 9

January first. A new year. A fresh start.

And for the first time in a long time, I was beginning a year as my own man.

Unless Talia would have me. Then I’d be hers until the end of my days.

I’d given her yesterday to think about Saturday night. I’d taken that time to think about it too. We’d always been combustible together. And fuck, it had felt good to lose myself in her body. To feel her pulse around me. To see that desire in her eyes. To hear her say my name as she detonated.

My hopes were up. The chances of forgiveness were slim, yet still . . .

I hoped with abandon.

Talia had said I’d lost the woman she’d been. Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose her again. Not if I could help it.

So I’d begin this year with honesty. With a confession that was long overdue.

I’d spent most of my day at the gym, cleaning and busting my ass to put the finishing touches on the place. The last of the equipment was set up, and I’d managed to squeeze in a decent workout.

Then I’d come into town this afternoon for groceries, driving by the hospital on my way home to see if Talia was working. Her Jeep had been in its regular parking space, meaning I’d had more time to kill. It was the first time in my life I’d been glad for the laundry.

The sun had set hours ago. The waiting had been agony and it had finally driven me out of my house and into town. To Talia’s.

My stomach was in a knot as I parked outside her house. The lights were on inside, casting a glow onto her snow-covered lawn. We’d gotten a flurry this morning and her sidewalk was dusted in white.

In the corner of her porch was a blue shovel, so I got out of my truck, zipped my coat higher and got to work. The scrape of the shovel filled the cold dark night as I delayed for a few more minutes.

As I gave myself just a bit longer to hope.

I was on the last porch stair when the door opened. Talia stood on the threshold, no makeup, her hair damp—flawless—and dressed like she had been on my first night in Quincy. Leggings. And an oversized sweatshirt.

A UNLV hoodie.

I had one to match.

“What are you doing?” She wrapped her arms around her waist.

“Clearing your sidewalk.” I set the shovel aside and surveyed my work. “It probably took me twice as long as it would have taken you.”

“It’s great. Thanks for doing it for me.”

“You’re welcome. Suppose I’ll get more practice living in Montana.”

I waited for her to contradict me or to argue and demand I leave Quincy. But she stayed quiet. Maybe after Saturday night, she realized now why I wouldn’t leave.

My breath billowed as we stared at one another. There were a thousand unspoken words between us, so thick they were a cloud of their own.

“About the other night—”

She waved it off. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“We do. I didn’t wear a condom.” Not that I’d had one to find. I hadn’t needed condoms in a long damn time.

“I’m on birth control.”

“ ’Kay.” There was a hint of disappointment in my voice. A baby with Talia wouldn’t have been an unwelcome surprise. “I, um . . . haven’t been with anyone in a while.” The fact that I’d managed to last more than five seconds had been a goddamn miracle. Being inside Talia’s body was heaven on earth.

“Because of your divorce. Right.”

“Something like that,” I muttered. No, it hadn’t been because of the divorce. But that clarification would come later. “Gonna make me stand out here all night? It’s not exactly warm.”

“You can come in, but only because if you get hypothermia, I’ll be the one to treat you. I’ve spent enough time at the hospital today and I have a twelve-hour shift tomorrow.”

I laughed, expecting to see a smile on her face too. But she looked like she’d just stubbed her toe. “What?”

“Don’t laugh.”

My grin faltered. “Why?”

“Because I like it.” Talia shifted sideways and motioned for me to step inside.

As she closed the door, I toed off my boots and stripped out of my coat, hanging it on a hook in the entryway. Then I followed her deeper into the house, drawing in a long breath of her scent. Coconut and citrus.

I’d gone to sleep a happy man on Saturday night because I’d had that smell on my skin. Thank fuck she hadn’t changed her soap over the years. I would have missed it.

“Great place,” I said as we entered the living room.

“Thank you.”

Her house was charming and cozy. The walls were painted a soft tan that complemented the leather sofa and armchair. The walnut coffee table had six marble coasters, one of which held a mason jar full of ice water. She’d always been worried about condensation rings ruining furniture, so she’d kept coasters everywhere.

The fireplace against the wall was made of the same brick that had been used outside for the porch’s stairs. The hardwood floors looked original, with the occasional ding and scuff to add character. A thick area rug took up most of the room, the hints of dark green in the pattern coordinating with the potted snake plant in the corner.

The house was older, probably built before open concept had become the rage, so each room was separated by walls and arched doorways. And above the couch, instead of paintings or prints, was a gallery wall of photos. The picture in the center was of her family.

It was older, a larger version of the copy she’d had at her apartment in Vegas.

Talia walked to the couch, taking a seat against one end and folding her legs into the cushion like she was curling in on herself. Like she was bracing for what was coming.

I took the opposite end of the couch, giving her some space as I leaned my elbows on my knees. “Nice sweatshirt.”

She glanced down, like she’d forgotten which one she’d pulled on.

“You bought me the same one, remember? You thought it would be cute if we matched.”

“The sleeves were too short, so you never wore it.”

“No, the sleeves were fine.” It had been one of two white lies I’d told her. “I didn’t wear it because I didn’t want people to think I’d earned it. That I was going to college.”

“What?” She cocked her head. “Why?”

“I barely finished high school. Got my diploma and knew that I’d never make it through another math or English class. The idea of college . . . that was for people like you. Not me. And when I put on that sweatshirt, it reminded me of everything I’d never have. Everything I wouldn’t be able to give you. A poor kid from a poor neighborhood whose best skill was throwing his fists around. A guy who was lucky to have twenty bucks in his pocket and knew he’d never be able to give you the world.”

She pulled her knees into her chest. “I never needed the world.”

“But I wanted to give it to you anyway.”

Back then, I’d been wrapped up in material possessions. I’d defined success as money and status. Everything my parents had been bitter about not having. The resentment they’d held toward each other because of why they didn’t have it.

If I could go back in time, I’d kick my own ass.

Talia hadn’t needed cars or a fancy house. All she’d needed was to fall asleep in my arms every night and wake up to my face every morning.

“You didn’t talk about your childhood much,” she said.

“No.” And I’d only introduced her to my family once. At a lunch, not dinner, in an effort to keep it as short as possible.

While she’d always talked about her family, I had avoided that subject at all costs. It was like our positions had been reversed. She’d told me everything but hadn’t shared me in the opposite direction. And I’d told everyone about her, but shared nothing about them to her.

“We didn’t have much money when I was a kid,” I said. “Dad worked at a tire shop, changing tires and patching holes. Mom worked as a bartender at a sports bar off the strip. Together, they brought in decent pay, except they usually came home with half of it because they’d left the rest at a casino.”

“They had a gambling problem? I had no idea.”

“Not something I liked to talk about. It caused a lot of problems between my parents. They fought all the time. They’d get mad when one lost too much. The next time, it would be the other.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s who they are.”

Neither of my parents would change. I’d accepted that. And these days, instead of being angry at each other, they were often angry at me too. They resented me for my wealth because I didn’t share it with them, not the way they wanted me to.

Every time I gave them money, they’d blow it in weeks. The two cars I’d bought for Dad had been hawked for cash. The same was true with the jewelry I’d given Mom.

I worked too hard for them to gamble away my money. So I’d bought them a house that was in my name so it couldn’t be sold. They received nice gifts on birthdays and at Christmas, and I didn’t ask what became of those gifts.

“Growing up, our house wasn’t peaceful,” I told Talia. “The normal volume was a shout. I think that’s why I got into fighting. It was an outlet. A way to quiet the noise. I had a friend in high school who started boxing and he took me to Angel’s one day.”

Angel’s gym, owned by Arlo Angel. He’d been my savior at that point in my life. He’d taken me under his wing and trained me personally for years. Probably because he’d seen natural talent and a fuckload of pent-up aggression.

“I didn’t respect my dad,” I told Talia. “I didn’t listen to my mother. But Arlo . . . he was my hero. He took a pissed-off kid and gave him a future. He told me I could be great, so I fought to be great. I needed that. I needed someone who believed in me. I needed something to fight for.” And for far too long, Arlo’s approval had been the source of my motivation.

“Understandable,” she said. “He’s a charismatic man.”

“Was,” I corrected. “He died in November. Heart attack.”

Talia gasped. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. A lot happened with Arlo. None of it good.”

“What do you mean? You loved him.”

I blew out a long breath. Telling this part of the story was never easy. Probably why I’d only shared it with Jasper. “I stopped fighting for Arlo when I met you.”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand. You were fighting at his gym.”

“He wasn’t the motivation. Not the bulk of it anymore. At first, I fought because I needed the outlet. Then I fought to make him proud. Then I met you. It wasn’t about me anymore, it was about you. I had no education. No hopes of being a lawyer or banker or businessman. My talent was in the ring. So I fought to win, because winning meant the brightest smile on your face. It meant hearing you cheer my name. And it meant money.”

It had all come down to money. Fool that I’d been, I’d thought money had mattered.

“You talked about your family. Their businesses. The ranch. The hotel. I knew you came from money. And I promised myself that I would never make you take a step backward. I wouldn’t drag you down.”

Talia sat straighter, letting go of her knees. “Are you saying you broke my heart because you were acting like some sort of martyr? You let me go to find someone ‘better’?”

“No.” I gritted my teeth. Just thinking about her with another man had sent me spiraling more than once in the past seven years. “I was going to fight anywhere they’d let me. I was going to fight every time, earn every dime. Until my body was broken. I was never going to let you go.”

“But you did. You chose Vivienne.”

I met her blue eyes brimming with pain and betrayal. A million apologies wouldn’t take away the guilt. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to make up for the hurt I’d caused her. “I’ll never forgive myself for what happened, Tally. For what I did to you.”

“But . . . why?” Her voice sounded so small. “What happened to us? We were happy. I thought we were happy. Weren’t we? You should have told me you had feelings for Vivienne.”

“I didn’t.”

Her hands balled into fists on top of her knees. “You married her.”

“Because Arlo blackmailed me into it. Either I did exactly what he wanted, including marrying Vivienne. Or he’d turn on me.”

“For what?”

“For throwing a fight to make fifty thousand dollars.”

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