15. Fifteen

Fifteen

Carson

I notice the tense silence as everyone turns to look at me. I notice Anna's eyes are wide and filled with surprise and something else I can't identify as she looks up at me.

"It looks like the cat's already out of the bag. Connor, this is Shadow. Shadow, this is my son, Connor."

"What did you just say? You're son?" My Uncle's eyes go wide in stunned disbelief.

I give my uncle a confused look, then smile. "Sorry, I thought that's what you all were talking about. This here is Connor Carlton. My son." I say with quiet pride.

My uncle chuckles, recovering, and pulls Connor into a warm embrace. "Boy, come here," he said, his gruff voice surprisingly tender. "I'm your great-uncle. Folks call me Shadow around here." His eyes give a suspicious shine as he says solemnly, "Your grandpa was my brother. A good man, taken too soon. Now, let me take a look at you." He steps back. "You carry a mighty fine name there, young man. How old are you?"

Connor grinning from ear to ear. "I'm ten years old," he states proudly.

"Ten, you say?" Sam rumbles, a hint of raw emotion lacing his voice. "You're awfully tall for your age." He ruffles Connor's hair affectionately, a small smile playing on his lips.

Conner doesn't even try to duck his head. "Mind if I show the kid around?" He glances from me to Anna. We both smile and shake our heads no.

After Sam leaves, I slide into the booth beside Anna. Her thigh is pressed against mine. I watch as she tries to subtly shift closer to the wall.

We all look up as Spitfire, a burly man, approaches the table. A tray balanced on his wide hand, a bandana tied securely around one thick arm. He places a frosty beer in front of each of us. As he sets one down in front of Anna, he says, "I'm Spitfire, and since this is your first time here, it's on the house." He glances at Val with a twinkle in his eye, "Gave away your Shirley Temple to the boy."

Val's laughter fills the air as she explains to Anna, "That's what he served me while I was pregnant." She eagerly reaches for the mug, the clinking glass joining the sound of our laughter.

Anna, however, remains uncharacteristically subdued. She hesitantly picks up her beer, taking a small, tentative sip.

Just then, Carter and Kat arrive, their entrance momentarily diverting my attention. We all shuffle to make space, and Anna once again finds herself pressed close against me. I fight back a smile at her flustered expression.

"Sorry, we're late." Carter waves to Spitfire and holds up two fingers. He immediately comes over with another frosty mug for my brother and a white wine for Kat.

"Did we miss anything?" Kat asks after Spitfire disappears with a smile.

Chase clears his throat but doesn't say anything; instead, he gives me a contemplative look. Val, however, leans toward Kat and says in a stage whisper, "Shadow was just asking Anna how they met." She nods to me and Anna. My stomach tightens at her words. "Anna said they met on a cruise." I let out the breath I was unconsciously holding. Then Val leans forward again, "At a masquerade party."

Well, shit! I glance over at Anna, who has a blush of color on her cheeks. She's toying with her mug of beer. I look at the others who have turned their attention to me, curiosity written all over their faces. Every. Damn. One. Suddenly, I'm the one squirming uncomfortably in my seat.

I glower at each of them, daring them to ask me outright. I pick up my beer and down half the glass.

Carter, probably taking pity on me, interjects, "Connor said you promised to take him out on the boat."

"Yeah, I was hoping I could take him out this weekend. If you hadn't made plans."

He waves his hand, "Nah. Go ahead. Kat and I thought we'd take a drive down to Goldhead State Park this weekend. Maybe hike down the ravine."

As the conversation turns to state parks, I breathe a sigh of relief, but I still feel Anna's eyes as she occasionally glances over at me.

My uncle comes back with Connor in tow. "Gave him the nickel tour. He wouldn't mind playing a game of pool." He hints with a wink in my direction.

Instructing Connor on the rules of the game of pool offers a welcome distraction. He soaks up the lesson with wide eyes, his face a mixture of concentration and delight as he sends the colored balls scattering across the green felt. Each successful pocket garners a joyous shout, each miss a crinkled brow and a determined pout.

Chase has taken over coaching duties, leaving Carter and me leaning against the wall, silent observers. I can practically feel Carter's scrutiny burning a hole into my side. Finally, I met his gaze, my voice tight with anticipation. "Just spit it out," I said.

Carter gives a slow nod. "Alright, fine. Here goes. I can't help but wonder why you haven't asked Anna to marry you."

A frown etches itself onto my face, but I remain silent. He pressed on, his voice laced with a hint of confusion. "There's an obvious spark there, wouldn't you say? You haven't taken your eyes off her all night, and there's a certain familiarity between you both. Plus, you're already living together. So, I'm just curious."

His words hang heavy in the air. I cross my arms, mulling them over. The truth is, the idea of marriage has crossed my mind. But the past looms large, too significant to ignore. Vows mean nothing to Anna, and that holds a weight I simply don't want to accept.

Finally, I comment, my voice flat. "We're not having sex."

Carter shoots me a surprised look. "Ah. That explains the tension, then." He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him. "Hey, it's thick enough to cut with a knife, Bro'. Honestly, I'm a little surprised. Given your history, I figured—" He cuts himself off, a flicker of apology in his eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to overstep. Trust me, living with Kat and not sleeping together was pure torture. But it wasn't long after I moved in that things escalated."

I sigh, offering a weak excuse. "It's complicated. Anna and I have a child together; it would make things awkward."

"Sleeping with her would be awkward," he counters, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Wouldn't it be more accurate to say sleeping with her again would be awkward?"

Silence hangs heavy between us as I consider his words. Carter finally shrugs, his voice softening. "Look, all I want is for you to be happy. You and Connor, that's a beautiful thing to see. But being with Kat has shown me what it's like to truly love someone. And let me tell you, it's pretty damn amazing. I just want you to have that same kind of happiness."

"Yeah, well… you love Kat." Carter nods again, "Yes. I do. But I was in love with her for a while before I finally admitted it to myself."

A thoughtful silence stretches between us, broken only by Connor's triumphant yell as he sinks a shot. Carter squeezes my shoulder in a silent display of camaraderie before we both turn towards Connor, ready to shower him with praise for his newfound pool skills.

Carter and Chase amble back to the booth, rejoining the girls who are having a lively conversation. Connor and I volunteered to take care of the pool cues. An older gentleman with a cane shuffles past, his steps slow and measured. Connor's gaze lingers on him even after he disappears around a corner.

"Hey, Son, you alright?" I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Did you recognize that man?"

Connor shakes his head. "No, he just reminded me of Graham. I mean, I was just a little kid when he died, but Mom has pictures of him." A shrug follows, his youthful expression clouded with a fleeting shadow.

With a frown, I ask carefully. "How old was Graham?"

"I don't know," Connor mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "I overheard someone say he was too old to be married to my mom..."

"And that bothered you?" I prod, the cue sticks forgotten in my hand.

He hesitates, then shakes his head again. "Not really. It was what they called Mom that made her cry. They called her a gold-digger." He gives me a soulful look,

"Words can be hurtful, huh?" I murmur, focusing on him only. I pull him into a comforting side hug. I say in a low voice, "Here, why don't you hang these up?" I hand him the cue sticks, trying to steer the conversation away from his memories.

I blink to dispel the red haze, trying to cloud my eyesight. A small smile begins and spreads across Connor's face, the past forgotten. If only it were that easy for me, I think, with a scowl. Anna's past is a tangled web of secrets and betrayal. And it stands between us, casting a long shadow over the present.

Leaving Wild Riders, Connor again rides behind me on the Spyder. I can tell he loves the freedom of the bike, as the wind sails by us. My mind continues to churn over what he told me. I don't like the picture it paints of Anna. In no time at all, we're pulling up at Chase and Val's house. We park the bikes. Chase heads over to us, his cell phone to his ear.

"Hey, Mom asked if Connor wanted to spend the night. We're headed over to pick up Gabby so we can drop him off."

Anna and I both look over at Connor. He gives a delighted grin. "Sure, I'd like to spend the night at Grandma's." He looks up at me, "We're going out on the boat tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, that'll work out perfectly." I give him a hug, and then Anna leans down with a soft kiss, "Behave. I'll bring your swim trunks with me tomorrow."

They pile into the car as we wave goodbye. The ride home is filled with an unspoken tension. I reach down and turn up the radio as I don't feel like talking.

It's only after I close the apartment door behind us that Anna stops and turns toward me—a challenge on her face, mixed with a glimmer of what could be hopefulness. It only hardens my heart.

"You named your bike Masquerade?" She asks me, even though it's not phrased as a question.

I feel my face tighten, "Yes," I frown down at her, "As a reminder… never to trust too easily." The words spoken cruelly—like weapons, meant to hurt her. I should feel satisfaction when they do. Her eyes darken as the barbs hit home.

She swallows hard, gives me a nod, and starts to turn away wearily.

Yet, I can't stop more harsh words from tumbling out, "Gold-digger, that's quite a label. Makes me wonder about Graham's age and money. Feeble old man, or just plain old?" Her pale face does little to quell the storm brewing within me. "How old was he, Anna?"

"Why would you ask that?" She demands softly.

I fire back, my voice cutting, "Because I want to know."

She finally answers in a low but steady voice, "He was seventy-two."

I feel my lips twist into a snarl. "No wonder you went looking for sexual satisfaction elsewhere."

Her head jerks backward as if I slapped her. I watch as the rage gathers; her clear gray eyes turn dark and stormy.

"You have no right to judge me," she states in a furious tone as she moves quickly toward me. "None."

As she lifts her chin with a defiant look, I suddenly can't take it. I reach out and pull her roughly into my arms. I silence her gasp with a hard and punishing kiss. I shouldn't be feeling this overwhelming attraction to someone I don't respect.

I feel her moment of surrender as she softens against me. I reach up, grab a fistful of her hair, and pull her head back so I can see her eyes. They are still cloudy, but not from anger. "Is this what you want? Does this turn you on, Anna? Do you like it rough? Do you get off on hate sex?"

Her eyes narrow, looking directly at me. "Is that what you need to call it, Carson?" She taunts me back. I tug harder on her chestnut hair, exposing her slim neck, and lean down, my teeth graze over her soft skin. I quickly pull her halter top over her head and push up her bra, exposing her lush breasts. I grasp her breasts with my hands. Squeezing them roughly.

When I hear her low moan of arousal, I quickly divest her of her black jeans, leaving her standing before me in her silky black underwear. My gaze rakes over her hotly. I watch as her nipples pebble. I reach out and circle her areola, and then I pinch her nipple just enough to elicit a gasp.

I feel my already hard cock throb, impatient to be inside her. "Is that why you allowed me to fuck you, Anna?" I taunt, my voice cruel. "Because he couldn't?"

Her eyes practically ignite with rage at my crude words. "No," she steps back, out of range of my touch. "I slept with you because I had fallen in love with you."

My outstretched hand falls to my side in shocked denial at her words. Their meaning is like a bucket of cold water thrown at me. I just look at her, my mouth practically hanging open. I watch as she bends down and regally picks up her discarded clothes. She turns without once glancing my way and walks toward her bedroom; her head held high.

I hear her door close with a soft thud and then a click as she locks her bedroom door.