“That won’t be necessary,” she said swiftly. “It’s Mr. Hawkins’ illiteracy that I’m interested in.”
What a bitch! The gloves were coming off.
“As I explained, that is factually incorrect, but I’m sure Mr. Hawkins’ lawyer would be happy to discuss it with you more fully.”
She stood up and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her expensive clothes.
“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, completely ignoring me. “You have my card. I’ll be in touch.”
She offered her hand, but Kes simply stood staring at her, arms folded across his chest, and Ms Lendl huffed softly, before marching away.
“Where the hell did she get her information?” I fumed.
Kes looked at me thoughtfully. “Sorcha.”
“You think she’d set you up like that?”
“Yeah, I do. She used to say that it would be a great ‘human interest story’—illiterate and successful.” He shrugged. “Said we could make a ton of money out of selling that shit.”
I was shocked. “I think you will have to talk to a lawyer, Kes.”
He pulled a face. “What’s the point? She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”
“You are not illiterate!” I said firmly. “You’re dyslexic, but you’re perfectly capable of reading and writing.”
“Sure,” he said sharply. “So long as it’s simple enough for a five-year old to understand.”
I took a deep breath—it was an old argument. But there was something else important that I needed to discuss.
“Kes, did you ever mention your father to Sorcha?”
His quick brain followed my train of thought immediately.
“She knows his name is Hawkins, but I didn’t tell her anything else about him. I don’t think.”
Suddenly, he looked unsure.
“What if this journalist starts digging?”
Kes shrugged. “If she outs my old man, I don’t really give a shit. It’ll be more embarrassing for him than me.”
“So there’s nothing that you’re worried about her finding out?”
He swore softly under his breath. “I need to speak to Con.”
“What’s wrong?”
But Kes deliberately ignored me, striding away already dialing his brother’s number, leaving me standing.
To say I was upset would be an understatement. Kes was hiding something from me. I thought we were past all secrets.
I was wrong.
But what was so bad that he couldn’t tell me? Hell, for all I knew he could be married, have a child or children stashed away. No, not that—Zachary would have told me. But would he? It was clear that his loyalties were with Kes and not me.
I felt like screaming as my brain went haywire trying to think of the multitude of possibilities.
The ugly thoughts reminded me of the last time I saw Gregg and the lies he’d told me, maybe for months. I didn’t like the comparison at all.
Kes was gone for nearly an hour, finally returning quiet and subdued. It wasn’t like him at all. Usually, energy crackled from him, to the point that he seemed to vibrate even when he was sitting still. But now, he was quiet, silent, sitting by himself and staring into the distance.
I put down my book and walked across, sitting down on the grass next to him—close, but not touching.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked gently.
“Nothing to talk about,” he muttered.
“Did Con…?”
But he stopped me immediately. “I said there’s nothing to talk about.”
I didn’t want another argument, so I let it drop. I stood up and returned to the deckchair and my book. But inside, I was begging him to share what was upsetting him. If it hurt him, it hurt me. I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let me in.
Zachary wandered over, looked at Kes and shrugged at me sympathetically.
“Wanna make S’mores?” Zach suggested with a kind smile.
“Sounds perfect,” I agreed, feigning a lightness I definitely didn’t feel.
Zach built a small bonfire, and I threw some blankets onto the ground, stretching out, watching the flames leap and dance.
Eventually, Kes came to join us and wrapped his arms around me. He didn’t explain where he’d been, what he’d said to his brother, or what had him so rattled.
I fell into a sort of trance as I stared at the fire, Kes’s fingers moving rhythmically as he stroked my hair. I was tired enough to go to bed, but too comfortable to move.
I smiled when Ollo came toward us, ambling along with a skinny guy that I’d seen around, but didn’t know. The new guy was carrying a guitar, so it looked like it would be campfire songs tonight. I didn’t mind; it would be nice to fall asleep listening to that, as long as things didn’t get too rowdy, in which case I’d send Kes to kick some asses.
It was the expression on Zachary’s face that made me sit up. A huge, beaming smile broke out as soon as he saw the new guy.
“Everyone, this is Luke,” he said casually, as if it didn’t matter.
We could all tell that it did.
Luke ducked his head, smiling shyly, and plopped down next to Zachary. I glanced at Kes and saw that he looked pleased, but not surprised.
Ollo was clattering around in our kitchen and suddenly appeared with a large white box in his hands.
“Make a wish, birthday girl,” he said, placing the box in front of me.
“What?”
I opened the lid to find a beautifully decorated birthday cake with my name on it.
Luke started playing Happy Birthday on his guitar and everyone sang along with him. To my surprise and delight, Tonya and the boys, and Rhonda and her family walked out of the shadows carrying flashlights, and joined in.
“Oh wow! You guys! This is amazing! Thank you so much!”
Kes grinned and raised his eyebrows.
“You knew about this!” I accused him.
He shrugged, but he wasn’t fooling me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and kissed him full on the lips, my hurt at his earlier behavior dissipated for now. Instead, a flurry of emotions washed through me, and the word ‘family’ rattled around in my tired brain.
“Where on earth did you get the cake?” I asked him.
“A shop in town. Ordered it on the internet myself,” Kes said proudly. “Zach picked it up for me this afternoon.”
I sniffed and rubbed my eyes.
“Happy tears?” Kes whispered.
I nodded, my heart too full to risk a word.
He slung his arm around me so that I was snuggled into his chest again, and he took my hand and held it, gently rubbing his fingers over my knuckles. Zachary was smiling, taking a bunch of photographs on his phone, then passed me the cake to cut into slices so it could be handed around.
The icing was too sweet, the cake itself too dry, the sprinkles that decorated it were too hard—it was the best birthday cake I’d ever had.
“It’s perfect,” I said to Kes, my mouth smeared with icing.
Who’d have thought I’d be celebrating my 25th birthday in a dusty Texas field with a bunch of carnies? I’d been so safe with my dreams over the last eight years, refusing to allow such color into my life again.
Kes laughed and kissed the sugar right off my lips.
Then Ollo walked up, two burning torches in his hands.
“For old time’s sake?” he grinned, holding out a torch to Kes.
“Hell, I haven’t done this in years,” he laughed. “Okay, but if I can’t kiss my girl tonight because my mouth is burned, I’m going to kick your ass!”
“You can try,” snickered Ollo.
Kes took the torch and a quick sip of lighter fuel, then he and Ollo put on a demonstration of fire-breathing that had the other carnies shouting with delight.
His face was dark, and the flames threw unholy shadows across him, the effect almost demonic. A shiver passed through me. My man could hold an audience, th
ere was no doubt of that.
Then he turned and grinned at me. “Want to try, Aimee?”
Zachary looked at me in surprise. “You can breathe fire?”
“Yeah, she can,” Kes said proudly, but I shook my head.
“I did it once, but no, I can’t do it anymore.”
“Sure you can,” Kes encouraged, but I shook my head. “No, definitely not.”
Kes covered his disappointment, but I could feel it all the same. He leaned backwards so his upper back was parallel to the ground, then swallowed the torch, putting out the flames with his mouth. I couldn’t help wincing, even though I’d seen him do the same thing many times when we were kids.
He dropped down and pulled me against him again, the whiff of smoke and fuel clinging to his skin.
Then Luke began playing another song, his voice surprisingly sweet as he sang.
I’ve been a wild rover for many a year,
And I’ve spent all my money on whiskey and beer.
And now I’m returning with gold in great store,
And I never will play the wild rover no more.
And it’s no, nay, never!
No nay never no more.
I will play the wild rover,
No never no more.
I knew that it was an old Irish folk song, and when I’d heard it before, it was sung in a wild, rousing way. But Luke played it as a lullaby, full of longing and sadness, and although the rover was coming home, to me the words sounded like an ending, not a beginning.
My emotions were very close to the surface that night, and the song brought tears to my eyes.
Kes stood gracefully and helped me to my feet. He didn’t even need to ask if I wanted to go, he knew me so well.
I thanked everyone for coming, then let Kes lead me back to the RV, leaving the others to enjoy the rest of the party.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth, but I was surprised when Kes stepped into the tiny space behind me.
“Shower?” he asked, running his fingers down my arms then tilting my chin up so he could kiss my mouth.
“Together?” I asked, my breath rushing out.
He nodded, a smile hovering on his lips.
Nearly a month of communal living had made me far less uptight about what people might or might not hear, but Kes and I hadn’t showered together before.
I found that I wanted to very much.
I smiled up at him, and with a grin, he flicked the lock on the door.
The bathroom was soon filled with steam, and I stripped off my clothes as Kes did the same. Then he smoothed his hands over my hair and tied it up so it wouldn’t get wet. I never washed my hair at night—and I loved that he cared enough to notice that fact.
When he moved back, I wasn’t surprised to see that he was fully erect. I met his eyes, dark and intense, and the hazy light seemed to make them gleam.
When I stepped into the small cubicle, Kes squeezed in behind me. The cold tiles on my ass made me gasp, but his hot body warmed my front as he pulled me against him, with the heat of the water wonderfully soothing as it poured over us.
There wasn’t much we could do in such a small space, but it was deliciously erotic to feel his hands on my breasts and between my legs, washing my back and my neck and trying to keep the spray off my hair.
Then it was my turn to run my fingers over his hard body, washing his back and the muscles of his chest, the ridges of his flat stomach. I crouched down to soap his legs, kissing his dick as it twitched next to my mouth.
Kes hissed. “I’m so close to coming right now.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do. Let’s go to bed.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, not bothering with one for himself.
Once we were in our room, I dumped the towel on a chair and crawled up the bed, dead tired.
But not too tired for Kes to make love to me.
He used my towel to dry himself off a little, but water still trickled from his hair and down his chest when he was finished. He leaned against the headboard and patted the space next to him.
I bent down to kiss his stomach, then worked my way up his chest, until his lips were sealed against mine, and his tongue was touching and tasting, sensually dipping into my mouth.
I sighed against him and he gathered me up so I was straddling his thighs, his thick cock rubbing against me hard enough to make me gasp. Kes plucked a condom from the small bedside cabinet and rolled it on quickly, the tendons on his neck standing out as he touched himself.
Then he angled his cock away from his body so I could sink down onto him as he braced his knees against my back.
We stared at each other, chests heaving, eyes locked together—intense, sensuous, intimate.
As his long, strong fingers reached out to stroke and caress my breasts, I felt as though he was trying to communicate through his body—maybe because he was mistrustful of words, because words made lies and he’d been lied to enough. Maybe because when he looked at words on a page, they warped and twisted and taunted him. I don’t know. I did know that I felt his love. Whether he wanted to say the words or not, I felt his love.
Our bodies moved together, desire washing through our tiredness, a slow, desperate climb as we continued to stare into each other’s eyes, our shared breaths, faster, gasping together, until Kes clenched his teeth and hissed against my throat, his entire body shuddering. I flew off the cliff, falling, until I crashed against his body, gasping air into my lungs.
“I love you!” I panted. “So much, Kes. My Kes.”
He formed sounds that had no words as his lips sent soft prayers against my throat.
A tiny piece of my heart crumbled because I needed to hear the words, just once.
Please, I prayed, Please say it, just once—say that you love me, because then I can believe it.
But the words never came, and inevitably our bodies separated from each other again.
It’s enough, I told myself. This intensity. Because I can feel his love, and that’s enough.
We fell asleep, the sounds of Luke’s guitar and soft laughter in the background. Kes’s family; my family; our family.
For now.
From Texas, we headed north to Colorado, then west to Salt Lake City and Reno. My final stop was in Bishop, California where we were pitching up for the Eastern Sierra Tri-County Fair, 60 miles from Fresno.
It was a big gig for the carnies, and we all knew that it was Kes’s pulling power that brought us here. But he never once mentioned it, preferring in many ways not to acknowledge that he was the star attraction.
For the last few days, things had been tense between us. Kes had been irritated—to say the least—when Gregg texted to thank me for an email I’d sent him. Of course, Kes heard the message arrive and asked who it was from. It didn’t occur to me to lie, but then he demanded to know why I’d emailed Gregg in the first place, and I had to admit that I’d sent the class files on each child because my third-graders would be Gregg’s new class. I was just being professional, but Kes made it sound like we’d been emailing each other regularly, which was not the case. I couldn’t give a damn about Gregg-with-two-g’s. But the result was still a huge fight. Kes saw it as a betrayal. Nothing I could say made it better as far as he was concerned.
“He doesn’t want you to go,” Zach said to me the morning after we arrived in Bishop.
“Well, he didn’t say anything like that to me,” I muttered. “He was mad that I’d emailed Gregg. But I had to do that. I’m being professional, that’s all. I don’t want anything to do with the asshole, but it’s not my choice. And I’d do exactly the same with any other colleague.”
Zachary sighed and looked away.
“He’s going to miss you.”
My heart wrenched. I could barely admit to myself how bad things were going to be when we finally said goodbye. Maybe the current coolness between us would be a good thing. Ease us into the separation a l
ittle. My sigh matched Zachary’s—I was lying to myself. It was going to be painful and awful.
“He thought you’d change your mind,” Zachary said quietly. “He still hopes you will.”
“I’m going to miss all of you,” I said.
Zachary put his arm around me. “And we’ll miss you … but it’s not us that you’re in love with.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Love isn’t enough.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Then what is?”
“Feel free to ask an easy question!” I said sarcastically.
“I’m serious, Aimee. If love isn’t enough, then what is?”
“Fine! I’ll tell you: having enough food to eat, having a roof over your head, having a means to earn money. You need all of that before love has a chance. Love doesn’t feed you or keep you warm—it withers and dies when you have to get practical.”
“But if you have all those things without love, what’s the point?”
“Ugh! I didn’t say I had all the answers. I’m just trying to be sensible. I have a job that I love. I have a life back in Boston.”
“And you don’t here?”
“No, not really: I have Kes’s life.”
Zachary looked down.
“You must know that he earns enough to support you both?”
“I went to school for four years to earn my bachelor’s in teaching. I’m starting a master’s program. What about that? Doesn’t that matter at all? Because it matters to me!”
Zachary nodded slowly. “You should really be having this conversation with Kestrel.”
“I know,” I acknowledged, my voice becoming hoarse with unshed tears. “But at the moment we’re just snapping and snarling at each other the whole time.”
“That’s because you need to talk.”
“I’m dreading it.”
“So is Kes.”
I nodded because I knew Zachary was right. Kes and I were running out of time again, and I hated it. All the old feelings came rushing back; that horrible sensation of not being in control of my life. It was standing at the edge of a cliff, your vision blurring, because the ground is rushing toward you. But it was stupid, because I was in control of my life. And my life was back in Boston, teaching, not being a glorified Kes-groupie.