Page 50 of Castaway Whirlwind
Layla
I look forward to the pull of sleep when Russell drives us home after my eight-hour shift, closing my eyes immediately after settling into his truck. I should probably make conversation and profusely thank him for being so sweet and patient with Gauge the whole time, but I’m leashed to a black cloud hanging over my head.
Except this time, sleep doesn’t come, so I play pretend. My mind is pure chaos, thinking of Russell’s son. Our ages. Our achievements. Our successes and failures in life. I’m unreasonably envious of the opportunities handed to Paul that have never once been within my reach.
I loved my dad more than I loved anyone else in my life until Russell, but I catch myself wondering how I would have turned out if Dad had been more like him. If I’d have ended up as smart or driven as Paul.If I would have ever looked twice at Stevenand moved to this town, met Russell and fallen in love with someone so much older than me.
Probably not. At least, not the first part.
That’s the real, ugly, honest truth. Though I certainly wouldhave felt worthier of Russell’s attention. Instead, I feel…trashy. Uneducated. Pathetic. Undeserving.
Russell should never have looked twice atme.
Without waiting for Russell to open my door, I’m out of the truck as soon as he parks in front of my unit beside Max’s car. I startle when Russell lays his hand on my back from behind while I struggle to unbuckle Gauge from his car seat without waking him.
“Come here, darlin’.”
I shake my head, twisting Gauge’s baby blanket in my hands. “We should get him inside. I’m sure his parents are worried.”
Russell gently grips my elbow to turn me around. “Come here,” he urges again, drawing me into his chest and encouraging me to lift my arms over his shoulders.
As soon as I do, the floodgates open, and everything I’ve stuffed deep down inside myself forces its way out. I grip the back of his neck, rolling up as high as I can on my tiptoes.
“Oh, darlin’, you’re breaking my heart here.” He’s as upset as I am when his hands drift lower to my bottom, hefting me up easily.
I wrap my legs around Russell’s waist, my dress skating higher up my thighs immodestly. With no one around to see us in the dark parking lot, he could push my panties aside and fill me with half his cock in this position if he wanted to. Distract me with an orgasm or two.
See? Trashy.
“Put me down.” I drop my legs and let them hang loose. “Please.”
Russell does for half a second, and then he hooks his hands lower around my thighs, lifting me again but keeping a firmer hold. He bumps the back door closed with his hip and hopsinto the passenger seat with me straddling his lap, shutting us inside.
He cups my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. “I can take a guess at what you’re thinking. Feeling. But I want to hear it from you.”
It all comes out in a rush. “Why me? Why do you love me?Howcan you loveme?”
“Christ, darlin’, I didn’t know it was that bad. I love you because you’reyou. Sweet, beautiful, inside and out.” He kisses my lips once before continuing. “Patient, with a kind word for everyone, even when they treat you poorly. You work hard, putting yourself last because you have such a big heart—though I wish you were more selfish. You give and you give, and you give some more and never expect or want anything in return—though I wish that weren’t the case, either.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re not doing a very good job, wishing I was different,” I say, trying to twist off his lap and climb over the center console.
He grips the back of my neck, his other arm banded around me to hold me in place on his hard thighs. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m telling you the truth—what you need to hear. You aregoodthrough and through. So good that you hurt yourself in the process. You’re too good for this world. With a soul as beautiful as yours, how could Inotlove you?”
“But you’re always frustrated with me when I won’t take your money or quit my extra jobs. I don’t get it.”
“I get frustrated because you refuse to take care of yourself or let me—”
My voice is too loud for the small space when I cut him off and ask, “So, because we’ve been together for all of two days, I’m just supposed to let you take care of me from now on?”
“Yes,” he says decisively. “I’ve been trying to for over three years, and you know it.”
“Well, don’t! Three years and I’m still a mess. I’m not as smart as Paul—don’t even know if I’ll ever finish school or be able to do anything more than a few crappy jobs.” I clutch my stomach, shaking when I tell him, “And I can’t give you anything your ex-wife did, either.”
His mouth drops open momentarily before he says with a hoarse voice, “So, you are scared.”
“Yes! If we ever got married, which is crazy talk, I could never be as good of a wife as her.”
“Darlin’…there’s no competition for who could be a better wife. She and I—we didn’t work. That part of my life with her is over, and we’re both happier and better off for it. I wantyou.”
