The Brightest Sunset (The Darkest Sunrise #2)

It wasn’t his fault that Catherine had turned out to be a madwoman. But being there, where she had once lived, was smothering me.

After eating a takeout dinner from The Porterhouse—on dishes the woman I hated with every fiber of my being had probably bought—we’d spent the night on the couch she’d probably sat on, my legs tangled with a man who had once vowed to love her and my son playing—and fighting—with her daughter.

She had stolen my child and seamlessly slipped him into her dead son’s life.

Was I now slipping into her life?

During a movie the kids had insisted we watch, they had fallen asleep.

Porter did not delay in carrying them both to their rooms.

And then carrying me to his bed.

Or was it her bed?

Desperate for a distraction from the swirling tornado in my head, I eagerly welcomed his body.

Porter took me long and hard, until we were both covered in a sheen of sweat. But, even after we’d finished, I wasn’t ready to go back to reality.

In the shower, I guided his hands between my legs and pretended for a little while longer. Only I couldn’t silence my mind long enough to find another release. So, when the hot water had turned to cold, it had forced us, dripping wet, through his bedroom, where he’d planted me on the bed seconds before his mouth disappeared between my legs.

“Porter,” I cried as he worked me closer and closer to the edge. I fisted the sheets and rolled my hips against his mouth. My whole body was coiled tight.

Porter never slowed his torturous tongue or his magical fingers.

“Oh God,” I moaned as my orgasm finally sprang to the surface, demolishing me in its wake.

I fell back on the bed, my heart racing but every other muscle in my body going slack.

All except my mind.

How many times had he done that with her?

I slapped a hand over my mouth as the thought assaulted me.

Closing my eyes, I counted backward from twenty, trying to trick my brain into some sort of semblance of calm.

None was found.

“You feeling any better now?” he asked, collapsing beside me on the bed.

Folding my arm over my face, I hid from him.

He moved my arm and searched my face. “Do I need to turn the lights off for you to talk to me?”

“W…what?” I stammered, the promise of the darkness almost as exciting as it was terrifying.

He would have made me feel better in the darkness, but in order to get that, I would have had to confess the landfill of garbage in my head.

He scooted in close and rested his hand on my hip. “You’ve been stuck in your head all night.”

I twisted my lips. “No. I haven’t.”

“Really?” he drawled, arching an eyebrow. “You stared at the wall for over an hour earlier.”

“I’m not a movie person,” I defended.

“Yeah, but you didn’t stare at me like you usually do when you get bored.”

I attempted humor. “Jesus, Porter. I’m not that creepy.”

“You are that creepy. And I fucking love it. But, tonight, you were off in your own little world.” He pecked me on the lips and smiled. “And you didn’t even invite me to come with you.”

Unable to reply around the lump in my throat, I inched into his space until he rolled to his back and tucked me into his side so my head was resting on his chest.

My breathing shuddered as I fought to keep my emotions beneath the surface.

“Jesus, Charlotte,” he whispered, but he didn’t push to make me explain.

His fingers played in my hair as mine gripped his arm impossibly tight while I forced myself to stay in that moment with him and not disappear into the past.

His mouth came to the top of my hair, where he kissed me. “Was tonight too much for you? Like, with the kids?”

I tilted my head back to see him, a pang of guilt hitting my stomach when I saw the worry carved in his face. “No. The kids were great. I love seeing him happy. And Hannah’s a doll.”

He blew out a relieved breath. “Good. Okay. So, was Brady a dick when you picked up Travis?”

I cut my gaze to the corner. “He started to be, but then I realized he’s just sad. Travis isn’t really giving him much of a chance.”

“Yeah. He’s not Brady’s biggest fan. Apparently, Brady’s been talking shit about you to his wife.”

I scoffed. “Well, that’s nothing new.”

His jaw became hard. “Maybe not, but it’s a problem when my son overhears it. He’s got to cut that shit out if he wants any hope of a relationship with Travis. You’re his mother. And, if he was any kind of man, he’d respect that and try to reinforce that bond, not tear it down.”

My mouth was so fast that my mind didn’t have the chance to filter my rough tone before I’d released the words into the wild. “Is that what you’re planning to do for Hannah?”

His chin snapped to the side. “What?”

I clamped my mouth shut and rolled away.

“Charlotte, what the hell?” he questioned as I started yanking my clothes up off the floor.

I gave him my back so he couldn’t read the lie on my face. “Travis and I need to get home.”

“It’s one in the morning, and you told him you were spending the night.”

When I heard the mattress creak, I hurried to get my shirt over my head before he could stop me.

“Yeah, but I just remembered—”

The room plunged into darkness, which sent a tsunami of panic crashing down over me. I didn’t want Catherine in the darkness. That was mine and she couldn’t have it.

“No. Turn them back on! Turn them back on! Turn them back on!”

Blessed light flooded the room, and my whole body trembled with relief.

“What the hell is going on?” he rumbled.

“I have to go home,” I choked out, rushing to my shoes and slipping them on.

I hadn’t made it more than two steps when he suddenly wrapped me up in a hug.

“You have to talk to me.”

“Porter, stop,” I cried.

He let me go, but then he stepped in front of me, blocking my path to the door. “Let me in, Charlotte.”

“I need to leave.”

He shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. “Whatever the fuck that has been poisoning your head all night, you gotta give it to me, sweetheart. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

My eyes welled with tears. He was right. She was poisoning me. She’d already ruined my life. And, now, she was about to ruin my relationship with Porter too.

“I have to…get away from her,” I admitted.

“Who?” he breathed, taking a step toward me, his hands going to my hips and pulling me close.

“Catherine,” I croaked.

His hands spasmed, but his face softened. “Baby, she’s not here.”

“She raised my child in this house, Porter. I can’t do this. I didn’t think about it before I agreed to come here. But it’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

He blew out a loud and long exhale. “Come with me, Charlotte.”

I shook my head, but when he took my hand and intertwined our fingers, I had no choice but to follow him.

Shirtless and in only a pair of pajama pants, he led me through the house and out the front door.