Forever Wanted: Part Two Read online

  Forever Wanted—Part Two

  Copyright © 2019 Dee Palmer

  Published by Dee Palmer

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in an form, including but not limited to electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase to, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Warning: ADULT CONTENT 18+ This story is a little on the filthy side and isn’t suitable for those who don’t enjoy graphic descriptions that are erotic in nature, but for those that do, enjoy ;)

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  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books by Dee

  Author's Note

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  The Choices Trilogy

  The Disgrace Trilogy

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  I may have confused everyone with my numbering, all I can say is you would not want to be in my head so…this is a series and it goes like this:

  Wanted

  Wanted Too

  Forever Wanted part one (book 3) - yes I know I’m a dumbass

  Forever Wanted part two (book 4) (and with the same title…the stupid is strong with this one I hear you say)

  Anyhoo, I just hope you enjoy!

  My Husband, again and never enough.

  You, always you.

  “YOUR NANNA IS THE BEST.” Freddie links his fingers through mine, his arm heavy around my waist. He’s spooning me, as I’m half-spooning Tiny. It’s getting late, and he sounds sleepy. The loft of the garage has a low roof that abuts the window, and it’s perfect for watching the sunset, wrapped in a blanket and the arms of my boyfriends.

  “She is, but why do you think so?” I shuffle around so I’m nestled in the crook of Tiny’s massive muscular arm, and Freddie slides down my body so his head now rests with his ear flat to my tummy.

  “She lets us hang here.”

  “I thought Pops was gonna shoot us, when they found out.” Tiny chuckles, making us all jiggle with the strength of the vibrations.

  “He still might, if you end up breaking my heart,” I warn. Looking up into his soft brown eyes, I can see the sincerity of his intentions before he utters the words.

  “Never gonna happen.” Freddie is the mouthpiece for them both in this instance; Tiny simply nods. I stretch up to kiss him. He has the softest lips, so tender for such a giant.

  “Nope. Never. We know what we have with you, Max.” Freddie kisses the bare skin where my t-shirt has risen from the stretch. There’s nothing sexual in his kiss; it’s filled with so much more. I’m not naïve. He’s a seventeen-year-old boy; there’s pretty much always something sexual with them, but this is more, so much more.

  “I’m a lucky girl.”

  “We’re the lucky ones. Will you marry me?” Freddie fires the question like a bullet out of the darkness and just as shocking. He pitches up on to his hands, then jumps into a impromptu one-knee proposal position. He takes my hand, and Tiny leans forward to slap it away.

  “Hey, you can’t ask her that.”

  “Why not?” Freddie wrinkles his nose playfully, steals a quick kiss from my gaping mouth, and sits back to hold his position. He looks so earnest; it’s almost comical.

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “And I called shotgun, Tiny. Snooze, you loose.” He reaches for my hand again, and I raise a warning brow. I know they are only playing, but I won’t encourage anything that might cause a division.

  “You can’t call shotgun on a marriage proposal, asshole.”

  “Can and did. So Max, will you?” Freddie grins like a Cheshire cat. His inky dark eyes glint with mischief. I’m tight-lipped now and surprised that there’s an unexpected surge of tension in the air. Tiny shifts and is now facing me. They both look expectant and nervous. The power goes to my head, and I hold it for a few delightful seconds before I put them out of their misery.

  I exhale my definitive answer. “No.”

  “No?” Freddie slaps his hand on his chest, his face the picture of a wounded soul.

  “Ha! Told you she loves me more.” Tiny punches the top of his arm, and Freddie is about to wrestle him back playfully, when I manage to wedge myself between them.

  “I don’t. I love you both the same.” I place my hands over each of their chests. I can feel their strong heartbeats under my fingers. They match my own. Silence falls like an anvil, and it takes a good few seconds for my brain to register what I’ve said. The boys are staring at me and then at each other.

  Freddie is the first to break, his tone only partly teasing. “You just said the ‘L’ word, Max. Are you all right?” He exchanges a knowing glance with Tiny.

  “Well, you mentioned the ‘M’ word so I thought—” I fluster, folding my arms around my waist at their sudden intense scrutiny.

  “You’ve never said it before.” Tiny pulls my arms free, and they each take a hand, closing their bodies in around me in the world’s most perfect human security blanket.

  “I know. Can we not make a big deal about it? It’s not like you don’t know I do. Love is more than a word. “

  “Oh, it is, absolutely. It’s just…wow.” Tiny kisses the back of my head, and Freddie does the same on my forehead. I feel like the most precious treasure when I’m in their arms. How did I get so damn lucky?

  I make sure to face them and hold their gaze when I speak. “Well, I’ve said it now. I love you, and I love you, equally and endlessly. I will never choose between you. You have me, and I have you, but I won’t ever marry.”

  “I love you, too.” Tiny’s lips brush mine, and his face stays close, when Freddie strokes my cheek, encouraging me to look his way. He kisses me softly and whispers, “I love you more.”

  “Really, Freddie? Is everything a competition to you?” Tiny groans, and we all laugh. The seriousness of the topic lightens when Freddie winks.

  “It really is, and in this instance, we are both winners.” He high-fives Tiny, and then me. We’re all winners.

  “Besides, I don’t believe in marriage,” I continue.

  “Really? Yo
u’re not just saying that because it would force you to pick one of us?” Freddie asks.

  “Anything that forces me to make that type of choice is bad in my book. Since God doesn’t exactly approve of our union, why should I give a shit about a piece of paper He deems necessary for me to get into heaven? I’d rather be in hell with you degenerates.” Poking the rock solid muscles on each of them in turn, I squeal when Tiny captures my finger and pulls me roughly against him. We all fall back onto the blanket, a tangled mess of limbs and laughter.

  “Yeah, you would.” Freddie agrees.

  We settle back into a comfortable cuddle and an easy silence descends over us. The stars start to pierce through the velvety sky one by one until billions of tiny dots spectacularly illuminate the nighttime. It almost rivals the daytime for brightness.

  “This sort of thing doesn’t happen every day, and it might not be traditional, but my feelings are as old school as they come. I love you.” I relish the way their bodies react with my words, closing in around me, just a little tighter, just a little more love.

  “Us against the world, baby,” Tiny says.

  “We are all we need,” Freddie agrees and elaborates. “We’ve got just one more year and we can get out of this narrow-minded town, together.”

  “Amen,” Tiny and I say in unison. There’s a low rumble of someone’s stomach.

  “Who’s for pizza?” Freddie rubs his midriff, solving that momentary quandary. Tiny nods enthusiastically.

  “I could eat, but I’m too comfy to move.” Snuggling between them, I writhe until the blanket at our feet has worked its way up to our waists.

  “I’ve had too many beers to drive.” Freddie grimaces and offers an apologetic shrug.

  “I’m not going on my own, Freddie. I’ll drive you, and you can get the pizza. That way, I won’t have to park miles away. Saves time.”

  “Okay.”

  Tiny eases his body from beneath me and puts his sneakers on. Freddie slips on his jacket and leans down to give me a kiss. I get a chill from the loss of their body heat. Sitting up and rubbing my bare shoulders, I can’t seem to generate any warmth. I shiver and get the telltale swirl of sickness in the pit of my stomach.

  “Hurry back, but don’t rush. Drive carefully. Maybe I should come?” Tiny drops to his haunches, cups my cheeks, and a tender, understanding smile fills his handsome face.

  “You worry too much. It’s a quick ride into town. This isn’t about your dad, Max; it’s pizza.” He holds my gaze until he’s happy I’m happy. I give an imperceptible nod. He’s right. It might be justified, but still, I do worry too much.

  “Besides, we’re like Swartzenegger, we’ll be back.” Freddie ruffles my hair and slaps Tiny’s shoulder to get him to move. “We’ll be two shakes of that little lamb’s tail.”

  “Two shakes.” I repeat.

  TWELVE HUNDRED MILES ON THE road, pretty much non-stop, and I catch the first glimpse of my hometown. I love my nomadic lifestyle, but there is still something uniquely heartwarming about coming back to the place I grew up. The feeling is fleeting, however, and it’s only because I know it would kill my folks if I didn’t ever visit home. It just hurts so…being loved and enduring so much pain, I can’t ever let it go or move on. The ghosts of my past hitch a ride the second I cross the town line, setting the refresh button on my devastating loss, and tearing open fresh wounds over the scars that never really healed.

  I crawl through the sleepy, one-horse town, with its deserted streets and empty shops, half expecting to see some tumbleweed roll on down the high street. The liquor store is the only establishment with enough trade to stay open this late, that and Murphy’s Bar on the edge of the town. The only thing that changes here is the price of gas.

  The twenty-first century took one look at this place and decided to drive right on through. Meadow Falls, Colorado, is imperfectly frozen in time, not helped in the least by a slow-moving economy and a backward moving population. It’s not surprising that anyone with half a dream leaves this place. As much as I love my folks, after the accident, I couldn’t wait to get out. I turned eighteen and, using every penny I’d saved, doing any shitty job going, I bought my first car and hit the road.

  Murphy’s Bar has a full parking lot, and I recognize some of the license plates, people I went to high school with. I don’t bother to slow down. I didn’t like them back then, and I doubt I’d like them any better now. Growing up might soften the edges of the judgmental assholes, but it doesn’t make me forget. As far as I was concerned, high school was just another hell I had to endure, and growing up was only just bearable because of Freddie and Tiny. I didn’t give a fuck that everyone thought we were deviants or downright sick; you can’t help who you fall in love with. I have regrets, but I don’t regret a single moment with them, not one single thing we did together.

  I roll my truck to park it under the canopy overhanging the side of the old barn that butts up against Pops’ garage. Shifting into park, I ease myself from the high cab, feeling the burn in my thighs and the weakness in my knees at the sudden weight-bearing jolt when I hit the ground. I steady myself and arch my back until it pops with some deeply satisfying cracks. Walking around to the passenger window, I peek in at the heartrending sight of my best friend begging; his large chocolate eyes bore into me, and the steady thump-thump of his tail is almost enough for me to risk it, almost. Still, I know better.

  “You have to stay. Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s not up to Pops. He loves you, but Nanna is not a fan. It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t eaten the Thanksgiving turkey right off the damn table last year, she’d still have you in the house.”

  Clifford drops his large head on the edge of the open window and couldn’t look more sorry for himself. Rhodesian Ridgebacks are big dogs, and Clifford must have gotten all of the giant genes swimming in his parents’ pool. He’s huge. He is also adorable, and all the things a single woman needs when she has no fixed abode and travels the length and breadth of the country from farm to farm, looking for work.

  He groans an appreciative sound when I stroke his head, rubbing just behind his ears the way he likes. I kiss the top of his head and reach down into the footwell in front of him and grab my satchel strap. “I won’t be long,” I assure him and don’t bother to lock the truck. There’s no one in a ten-mile radius, and besides, I’d like to see the person that tries. They’d have to have balls the size of Jupiter to get past Clifford. He’s as possessive over my things as he is over me, and he has very big teeth.

  Pops’ garage workshop houses three cars in varying states of decay, and I swear they are the same vehicles from when I was here last time, which has to be pushing six months now. Weaving my way through to the back of the building to the cottage where I grew up and where Pops and Nanna live, I notice something new.

  “It’s finished!” The instant smile is so darn wide it hurts my face. As if on cue, Pops appears from beneath the front of the immaculate and lovingly restored Matador Red convertible 1954 Buick Skylark.

  “She is.” Pops beams with unabashed pride. He wraps the soft leather cloth around his gnarled knuckles and snaps the rag rapidly over the gleaming paintwork. So much chrome the shine hurts my eyes, from the window rims to the Kelsey Hayes chrome wire wheels. The power seats in red leather look so soft and feel like silk to touch. It’s showroom condition down to the pristine cream rimmed tires, every one of the hundreds of hours he’s dedicated to this project has paid off big time. It’s perfect. “What do you think of her?”

  “You missed a bit.” I tease, stepping around the car to get right up next to him. I scrunch the cuff of my long sleeve t-shirt and polish an imaginary smudge from the chrome wing mirror. He slaps my hand away from his precious car and cusses under his breath. The faint curve of a smile on his wrinkled face belies his general air of world-weary curmudgeon. I throw my arms around his neck, unbelievably pleased to see him and so happy he’s finally finished his self-confessed second favorite labor of lov
e. “I missed you.”

  “All right, all right, enough of that.” He coughs and grumbles, and his back stiffens the instant my arms reach up to hug him. His spine might be twisted with age; however, he’s easily still six feet tall, with the shadow of a rock-solid college quarterback still clinging to the muscles in his chest and arms. He attempts to brush off my overt affection, and I bite back on the smile exploding on my face at the joy I feel when he slyly returns my embrace. It’s brief, but it’s there, and it’s filled with love.

  “She’s perfect,” I whisper, kissing his cheek before releasing my hold.

  “She is.” His expression is elated with barely contained pride and joy. Falling silent, we both take a moment to appreciate the majesty of this magnificent car, the countless hours and dedication needed and lovingly given to restore it from the wreck it was to it’s bygone glory days. He’s done it. I’m so damn proud.

  “So what now? Are you going to sell her?” I offer and the scowl he levels on me would make a grown man cower. It’s lucky I know he loves me.

  “Would you sell Clifford?”

  “Hardly the same thing, Pops, and if he was worth two hundred grand, I might.” Nudging him with my elbow, he doesn’t budge an inch at my joke.

  “Liar. You’d sell your soul before you’d sell that dog.” His astute retort is spot on.

  “True. Still, it’s a lot of money, Pops.”

  “And what would I do with a stack of cash? I’ve got everything I need right here.” His arm rests heavy and strangely comforting across my shoulder, jerking me firmly to his side. My gaze follows the sweep of his other hand from left to right and all around the homestead and his castle.

  “You could travel. It’s a beautiful country. You should see it before—” My voice chokes, the darkness of the end of that sentence strikes me hard and shocks me silent. Where did those words even come from? An ill shiver races across my skin. I can’t shake the image; it’s in my head and now, unfortunately, it’s out of my mouth.