Author: Nina G. Jones
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: October 1, 2015
Synopsis
I married the right brother.
At least that's what I tell myself at night, when I stare at the ceiling and listen to the rhythm of the grandfather clock down the hall. It never feels like the mere passage of time, but a countdown towards something inevitable. Bobby Lightly is selfish, irresponsible, and careless. I haven't seen him since the day I married his brother. He slipped out during the wedding reception without a word.
A year later, I heard Bobby was drafted to Korea. He never said goodbye to anyone. Never sent a letter. We had all come to terms with the fact that he was probably dead somewhere, either a victim of the war or its aftermath.
That is, until in the midst of an unrelenting heatwave, he showed up at the doorstep of the house I lived in with his brother.
Everyone thinks I'm cruel. Everyone thinks I should be easy on him. They think I don't understand him. They all think I hate him.
But what no one understands is that it was Bobby who broke my heart.
And I think he’s back to do it again.
Excerpt
The
dim porch light spotlighted Bobby. I tried not to look, but it only
took seconds to fall in. He took a swig out of the long-necked
bottle. His sandy brown hair was knotted back carelessly, most of it
not long enough to reach the ponytail, so that the locks collapsed in
reckless waves. Until his return, I had never seen him like that. The
Lightlys always kept their boys clean-cut. He was almost twenty when
I saw him last and in those few years he had transformed into a man.
His stubble framed a sharp jawline, and only made his roguish smile
more mischievous. No one around here dressed or kept their hair like
Bobby. And like his fits of quiet, it added to his mystery. Outwardly
he would be silent, but quiet Bobby was always the loudest to me. I
could almost hear his mind racing with thoughts, a tension that
swirled around him like a silent storm. So while he didn’t say a
word, I always felt like he was tearing the space apart. I could feel
the air pressure change as Bobby raged internally. For all of his
yapping growing up, during these silent “fits” was when I felt
closest to him.
We
didn't say anything for a minute or so. We used to do this sometimes,
when we were teenagers. When Bobby and I weren't fighting over
something, or sometimes just after we did and had exhausted each
other, we would just sit together. Sometimes we would talk, other
times we wouldn't.
It
seemed Bobby didn't want to pressure me to talk and so it was me who
spoke the first words.
"So
is it the heat?"
"Hmm?"
he asked.
"Why
you can't sleep."
"Oh,"
he replied, the steady creaking of the porch swing a backtrack to his
words. "No, I don't mind it. I just sleep in the raw." He
winked.
I
fought a smile and shook my head at him.
Bobby
leaned forward, stopping the swing. The silence this created
punctuated his next words. "It's um . . . before the war I used
to sleep like a rock every night. After, well sometimes I do, other
nights I don't."
"Oh,"
I replied, my arms crossed as I kicked at a dry leaf on the floor.
"Want
some?" Bobby tipped his beer towards me.
"Oh
no, I'm fine."
"Come
on, you've always loved some beer."
"Things
change."
"Oh
yes they do," he leaned back and got to rocking, "but the
taste for beer. That never does." He raised an eyebrow
playfully.
I
glanced up at the little bugs dancing around the porch light,
reminding myself not to become like them.
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