Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Lula

When I walk into my bedroom, I might as well be floating on air.

I lean back against the door and press my fingers to my freshly kissed lips, smiling with such abandon it actually hurts my cheeks. Tonight was a fairytale and an erotic sex dream all rolled into one…and I get to have this all of the time. I’ve finally accepted that I’m going to be with Vale because a relationship is what we both want. He wants me and I want him. Badly.

Any self-doubt has been thoroughly scrubbed from my brain by his promises, his lovemaking, the way he treats me. If he cares enough about me to face heat from our parents and the Navy, how can I doubt his intentions?

Now that I’ve stopped worrying about him regretting getting involved with me, my own feelings have blossomed. When I told Vale I loved him, I’ve never meant anything more in my life. Yes, I love the heroic SEAL. But I love the honest, passionate man under the surface even more—and I’m the only one who gets to have him.

Me. Lula Butler. Hippie, occasional nudist, high-pitched giggler.

Twirling toward my dresser, I mentally go through my wardrobe. Ooh, I have those purple silk panties. Maybe I should surprise him in nothing but those? Internally squealing, I click on my hanging lanterns.

Something moves behind me and I gasp, turning to find my mother sitting on the edge of my bed. There is an empty wineglass lying sideways on her lap and her phone is lit up beside her thigh. Enough to see the picture of me and Vale on the screen. It was taken tonight at the Coyote. In it, he’s kissing me full on the mouth, my face cradled in his hands.

There’s no mistaking the less than platonic nature of how we’re touching.

I’m surprised when a calm settles over me. We expected our parents to find out. I’m almost relieved our relationship is out in the open, so we can deal with the fallout and move forward. “Mother—”

“How drunk did you have to get him to kiss you?” She finds this question infinitely funny, but the sound of her laugh is ugly, embedding under my skin like a splinter. “God, Lula. How desperate do you have to be to throw yourself at your own stepbrother?”

My skin smarts like I’ve been slapped. My mother is saying these things to me. I’ve always kind of accepted her criticism, but now I see so clearly how wrong it is for her to treat me so poorly. I deserve better. Remembering there is a man on the other side of the bathroom who wants me to be his wife, I raise my chin. “I’m sorry you have such a low opinion of me. Vale wasn’t drunk when he kissed me and I didn’t throw myself at him. That’s now it happened at all.”

“It? What is it? Certainly you don’t believe you’re in a relationship with him.”

“Actually, I do,” I say softly. “I am.”

She snorts, followed by a long pause.

Her eyes turn calculating and my skin starts to feel clammy, my pulse picking up.

“Well, well, well. I would be impressed if I didn’t find your actions incredibly selfish and short-sighted.”

My heart starts to pound in my ears. “What do you mean…selfish?”

She comes to her feet slowly. “Right now, Vale is the perfect American hero, but by morning, he’s going to be a pervert who sleeps with his barely legal stepsister. Do you have any idea how this is going to look? He’ll be lucky if he gets to keep his job!”

By the time she finishes, my mouth is dry and I’m feeling slightly dizzy. Could my relationship with Vale really threaten his position on base in Coronado? “We…haven’t gotten that far yet, but Vale isn’t worried—”

“If that’s what he told you, he lied.” She shrugs a shoulder. “Then again, men lie all the time when they need a quick lay. Is that what you provided him, daughter? You must have, since he’s been home all of two days. You made it really convenient and easy, didn’t you?”

Of all the things she could have said, this one hits the lowest below the belt.

From Vale’s very first touch, I worried my proximity made me attractive to him. The fact that I was close and…accessible. I shake my head, trying to fight off the doubts that are slowly climbing from the graves where I buried them. Coming for my newfound confidence with sharp, gleaming teeth. “No,” I breathe, hating the moisture that pools in my eyes. “That’s not true. We love each other. I don’t need you to believe me. Our opinions are the only ones that matter.”

“Oh yeah? You should see the snide comments on this photo,” she drawls, holding up her phone. “Do you have any idea what people are saying? What they think when they see you two together? Such…” She eyes my body pointedly. “Opposites.”

“I don’t care.”

That’s what I say out loud, but my confidence is skating on thin ice.

“Well you can imagine,” my mother snaps. “How long is he going to put up with that? He’s in the public eye, Lula. You’re forcing him to deal with laughter and criticism and taunts. You’re forcing him to do that by being with him!”

“No, I’m not,” I whisper, backing away from her until my back hits the dresser.

But is what she says true? If Vale was pictured with one of the society girls my mother wanted to introduce him to, wouldn’t people be more satisfied with his choice? Wouldn’t it make more sense and invite less negativity? And with one of those girls, he wouldn’t face any potential discipline from the Navy, either. Is being with me bad for Vale? I don’t want to hurt him in any way—I love him too much.

“You’re obviously beginning to see reason,” sneers my mother. “Good.”

There’s a knock on the door of the adjoining bathroom.

Quickly, my mother crosses my room toward the entrance. “Sometimes the hard thing is the right thing,” she whispers—and then she’s gone.

Sometimes the hard thing is the right thing.

Those words play over and over in my head as I unlock the bathroom door with partially numb fingers, my throat clogging up at the sight of Vale’s grin. In sweatpants and bare feet, he’s shirtless, his abundance of muscles highlighting our differences. He’s carrying a plate of sandwiches that he must have put together in the kitchen while I spoke to my mother.

One look at my face and his smile crumbles.

“What the hell happened?”

I can’t look him in the eye. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, Lula.” He pushes into my room and sets down the plate on my dresser, turning in a quick circle to survey the room, his sharp movements reminding me he’s a SEAL to the bone. When he spots the discarded wine glass on my bed, he holds it up, dread and irritation beginning to creep into his expression. “Your mother was here. What did she say to you?”

All I can do is shake my head.

There’s a hole in my stomach and I can’t stop myself from speculating on those comments. What are people saying? I’m no longer in doubt that Vale loves my body. And I love my body. It jiggles in a lot of places. It also camps and meditates and goes to school and makes friends and lives life. I’m not defined by how I look. Nobody is.

But other people can be so cruel and thoughtless and vocal about things that strike them as different. Not typically done. Vale and I are one of those things. Do I really want to subject him to people who are constantly going to point out the difference in the ways we look? Or that I’m his stepsister? Fourteen years younger? The list goes on. He might be able to salvage his American hero image without me. Am I being selfish if I don’t let him go?

I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. “Vale, maybe…maybe it is for the best if you take some time to think. In Coronado. Alone?”

His jaw looks like it’s about to shatter, his muscles rigid.

Blue sparks snap in his eyes.

“I’ve had enough of this,” he growls, storming toward me—

And right past me.

Out the door of my bedroom and down the stairs.

I run after him down the hallway and watch as he leaves the house, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the hinges.

That’s it then. I’ve finally pushed him away.

He’s gone.

In a trancelike state, I pace back to the bedroom and crawl into my bed, pulling the covers tight around me. I lie very still for long moments before the crying starts. A huge, hiccupping sob wracks my body and I release the sound into the pillow, curling in on myself. I know I should try and slow down my breathing and center myself before this crying jag gets out of control, but I don’t want to find peace or be calm. I want to rage at the unfairness of what’s just happened.

Because it is unfair. We’re two people who found love with each other. Isn’t that supposed to be a beautiful thing? Aren’t people supposed to celebrate that, not try and tear it down?

As an hour ticks by, I think back to the people in the bar.

How they didn’t seem judgmental at all. How they were kind and welcoming.

I think of Santana and Jess, instinctively knowing they’ll have my back no matter what.

And Vale…

God, I love him so much. He won’t give a crap what anyone says. He never wanted the squeaky-clean image, because it’s not real. He’s a soldier who has had to do hard, traumatizing things. And me…I’m his lifeline. Didn’t he tell me that?

You put me on solid ground.

Vale wants me because I’m good for him. He cares about me. Enough to guard me overnight while camping and defend me to our parents. I make him happy. And he doesn’t want to be with me in spite of my body type. This is simply the body of the woman he fell for. In turn, he’s fallen for every inch of me.

He loves me.

He loves me like crazy. When it comes down to it, the only person who is making me feel terrible is my mother. Am I going to let her continue to do that to me? She’s been doing it my whole life. She’s the wrong one. Not me—and not us.

I sit up in bed, wiping the tears out of my eyes.

I can’t believe I let him leave. After telling Vale I wanted to be with him, I stumbled and possibly hurt him. That knowledge is painful and unacceptable. I have to go find him.

Wiping my damp cheeks with more purpose, I swing my legs off the side of the bed and speed walk out of the room, down the stairs. Vale is probably long gone, but I have to try and find him anyway. I have to tell him I’m sorry and demand he forgive me for losing faith.

I throw open the front door of the house—and there he is.

Striding up the walkway, still shirtless and barefoot in sweatpants. Only this time he’s not carrying a plate of sandwiches, he’s holding a small black box in his right fist. There’s a determined expression on his face and he’s such a welcome sight, he’s so gorgeous that all I can do is sniff loudly and say, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he rasps, coming to a stop in front of me. Towering over me by several inches, his eyes the most intense shade of blue. “I’m sorry, Lula. I should have stayed and reassured you. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I just thought actions would carry more weight than words.” His throat works with a heavy swallow. “You’re mine. All mine. And I need you. I don’t give a damn what the world thinks or what our parents say—we know this is right and good and perfect. We know this was meant to be.” He kisses my lips softly and goes down on one knee, snapping open the ring box, bringing a choked, happy sound past my lips. “There was only a pawn shop open this time of night, but I’ll get you a better one. I just need to get a ring on your finger. I need you to know I’m positive about us and I’ll never need time to think or consider it. I know. My heart knows. I only need time with you—every second, every minute, every day. Will you please give that to me, Lula?”

“Yes.” Not a single beat passes between his question and my answer. I throw my arms around the man I love and we hold each other on the top step of the house, rocking together, the ring box still open between us. When he finally slides the diamond onto my finger and kisses me, I let the happiness blanket me and my heart. I let it cover the holes that were punched in my insides earlier and seal them up tight.

Never to be reopened.