Redeem Me (Beckett Brothers #2)

19. Caelon

Chapter Nineteen

CAELON

Ivy tugs my hair as she comes on my face, but worse than that, she tugs something in my chest. Something I thought was frozen so solid it was untouchable.

I crawl up the bed, blazing a trail of tiny kisses over the smooth plane of her stomach, between her breasts, up her neck and over her jawline. Her limbs are languid, but her eyes are sharply aware. I’d swear she’s holding her breath, waiting for me to kiss her mouth.

My lips hover over hers. Her chin dips in a clear invitation.

I can’t do it.

I can’t kiss her. No matter how badly I want to. Kissing changes everything.

I press my lips to her cheek and leave Ivy’s room without another word. If she wants to go out with Rian, I can’t stop her.

The kids are thankfully still engrossed in their cartoon show, so I head up for a shower. It takes all of an embarrassing ten strokes of my cock before I come harder than a hurricane all over the glossy, ivory tiles, imagining my hand was Ivy’s tight hot channel.

Maybe if I give into this thing between us, I could get her out of my system? Then she can go on her merry quest for a husband, and I can continue my quest for revenge.

No.

We can’t.

She’ll want more, and I’m not capable of that. Someone will get hurt. And we’ve all had enough pain for one lifetime.

By the time I leave my bedroom, dressed and ready for the day, I’ve vowed, once again, to leave Ivy alone. Stripping my son’s urine-soaked bedsheets is a swift reality check. My life is complicated.

Ivy has no place in it other than in a professional capacity.

When I stroll into the living room to switch the TV off, I find Orla sucking on a lollipop.

‘Where did you get that?’ I tut, glancing at the clock. It’s way too early for a sugar high and the inevitable crash that will follow.

‘Uncle Rian gave it to us,’ Orla and Owen exclaim unanimously.

Of course he did. A tightness weaves into my torso. I scan the gardens, looking for his car. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s gone. He took Ivy out for a spin. We asked if we could go, but he said he only had two seats.’ Orla pulls a puppy-dog look.

‘Go and get dressed. I’ll take you for a spin, princess.’ I smooth her hair back from her eyes.

‘And me?’ Owen bounces on the couch like it’s a trampoline and not a fifty-thousand-euro Italian custom-made piece.

‘Of course.’ I clear up the discarded cereal bowls. ‘Get dressed. We’ll go visit Mammy, then head somewhere nice for dinner.’

‘Can I order a chocolate brownie?’ Orla’s eyes light up .

I nod. ‘Only if you eat your dinner.’

‘Did you think any more about if we could get a dog?’ she asks.

‘Sorry guys, a dog is a huge commitment. I’m not here enough to take care of one. They need a lot of attention. They shed hair everywhere. They need to be toilet trained. Walked.’

‘But Ivy’s here now. She could help.’ Owen jumps from the couch to the floor like he’s a superhero. ‘Do you remember the time Mammy doggy sat Aunty Jenny’s puppy and it dug up the plants?’

‘I do.’ A flicker of warmth flares in my chest at the memory. ‘It’s a hard no, guys.’ Bad enough these two treat the couch like a trampoline. I refuse to have a furry beast slobbering all over it as well.

I cross the open plan room to the kitchen with the empty bowls. ‘Right, get dressed. Let’s see who is quickest. Timer starts now.’ The two of them scramble out of the room and up the stairs.

The scent of Ivy’s pomegranate perfume lingers in the kitchen. I force away the image of her sitting in the passenger seat of Rian’s car. Of his hand dropping to her thigh. Of him flirting with her. Making her laugh. The house is enormous, but suddenly, the walls are closing in on me. I need to get out of here. ‘Hurry up, guys!’ I call up the stairs.

We pile into the Bentley, and I drive slowly down the driveway.

‘You sure you don’t want me to accompany you?’ Damon checks as he opens the gate.

‘No, we’re fine, thanks.’ Security is important, but so is my sanity. Sometimes I just need to feel normal for a while.

We stop by the florist on the way to the graveyard and pick up a lavish bouquet of Isabella’s favourite blush pink peonies. The kids race up the narrow stone pathway to their mother’s marble headstone, laughing and chatting about one of the characters on the TV show they were watching. Visiting their mother’s grave is normal for them, but it will never feel normal to me.

I lay the flowers, then run a hand over the top of the white shiny marble, while the kids skip between the tombstones.

‘Hi Issy.’ I pause, feeling the usual stir of guilt in my sternum, though this time, it’s for a different reason.

I blame myself for Isabella’s death. I hold Jack O’Connor responsible, more so than that fucking druggie, Danny Bourke, but I have to accept some of the blame. If Isabella hadn’t married me, she wouldn’t have been caught in the crossfire of the feud between the O’Connors and the Becketts. As long as I live, I’ll never forgive them for taking her from us. But I’ll never forgive myself either.

Today, I’m also shouldering the weight of my newfound feelings – I mean attraction - to another woman.

‘Caelon,’ a familiar voice calls, and I twist on my heels to see Isabella’s mother, Jocelyn, ambling towards us with a smile the size of Switzerland on her weathered face. She aged twenty years after her daughter’s death. Then again, so did I.

‘I thought I might meet you here.’ A slow smile stretches the width of her face.

‘Nanny!’ Orla and Owen run to their maternal grandmother. I should make more of an effort with Jocelyn. Even though the kids visit one weekend a month, I usually ask my parents or the nanny to drop them over.

Seeing my in-laws is hard. They’ve only ever been lovely to me, but again, I don’t want, need, or deserve their sympathy or affection. What I need is to avenge their daughter. To make someone pay for the huge gaping hole in our lives.

‘Hey you guys! You’ve grown in a matter of weeks! Are you coming to visit me soon?’ Jocelyn crouches and hugs the kids .

‘Can we come today?’ Orla and Owen bound around Jocelyn’s legs like a couple of excited labradors.

‘Of course you can,’ she coos, at the same time as I say, ‘Not today.’

‘Ahh, Daddy, Nanny said it’s okay. Please!’ Owen tugs at the hem of my polo shirt.

Jocelyn turns her focus on me. ‘I’d love to take them for a few hours if it suits you. I don’t want to intrude if you have plans, though.’

‘The plan is to eat a chocolate brownie,’ Orla announces, before beckoning Owen over to sniff a batch of giant wild daisies.

‘Maybe you’d like a few hours to yourself?’ Jocelyn whispers. ‘Or maybe there’s someone you’d like to spend a couple of hours with?’

It’s not the first time my mother-in-law has tiptoed around the notion of me moving on. The problem is, I don’t know how to. Not in the way that someone like Ivy wants or needs.

Ivy.

She’s with my brother.

If the kids go with Jocelyn, I could gatecrash their date. Because I know my brother. I know how his tiny little brain works. Where he’ll take her to impress her. But he doesn’t know Ivy at all.

I’ve only known her a couple of weeks, but she’s spent the entire time under my roof, and when I haven’t had my tongue buried inside her, I’ve been watching her – even when I shouldn’t have been.

I know what she likes, what she’s interested in, and it’s not being wined and dined in an overpriced, pretentious restaurant, which is undoubtably where Rian will take her. He thinks throwing money at women is enough to get into their panties. Sometimes he’s right. But not with Ivy .

She comes from an ambitious, affluent family, yet instead of studying at a pretentious college and pursuing a high-flying career she’s not passionate about, she unashamedly admits her life goals are to have a family.

People are what matter to Ivy. Not places. She was happier than a pig in shit with the pizzas on the beach yesterday. The quiet coffee we shared in the garden. That’s more her thing. The little things are the big things to her.

I hesitate, biting the lining of my cheek. Jocelyn steps closer, placing a hand on my forearm. ‘Oh, Caelon, I hate seeing you like this. Isabella would hate to see you like this. You used to be so vibrant, so full of life. Now you look so…’ she fumbles for the right word before settling on, ‘tortured.’

I cough to cover my snort.

‘You need to move on. It doesn’t mean you love Isabella any less. You could have another fifty, sixty, maybe even seventy years on this planet. Do you really want to spend them alone?’

‘I never thought about it,’ I admit truthfully. I’ve been so consumed with rage and a thirst for revenge, I’ve never thought past those things. And while I don’t want to embark on a relationship with Ivy, I definitely don’t want her as a sister-in-law.

‘Let me take the kids today, please,’ Jocelyn urges.

‘If you’re sure.’ I blow out a breath. ‘I’ll collect them this evening, around six.’

‘Perfect.’

Rian gatecrashed my day with Ivy yesterday.

Today, I’m going to gatecrash his.