Hero

by Samantha Young

  Attempting to see through my blurry vision and all the while trying to soften the sounds of my crying, I hurried into the kitchen and fumbled with a glass as I pulled it out of the cupboard.

  “Lexie?” Caine’s questioning voice came to me.

  I stiffened, shoving the glass under the tap.

  “Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, his heat hitting my back as he reached beyond me for the glass. With his other hand he reached for the Percocet, and in doing so trapped me against him. “Are you in pain?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He was silent a moment. And then, “You’re not fine. You’re crying.”

  “I said I’m fine. I just need to take the Percocet.” I took his hand and tried to peel the bottle out of it. “Give it to me.”

  “Lex, let me help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  I did not need to be saved by a man who couldn’t even save himself.

  “Lex—”

  “I said I don’t need your help!”

  Suddenly his hands were on my arms and he was gently turning me to face him. I resisted, squirming against his hold with as much ferociousness as my wounded body would allow.

  “Lexie, stop,” he huffed in confusion.

  I couldn’t stop it now that my emotions had been unleashed on him.

  All I could see were those photographs. All I could hear was his denial of how he felt about me. His rejection. His lies.

  “Get off me!” I yelled, struggling hard now.

  His grip on me tightened. “Lexie, stop it.”

  But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

  Every hurt I’d felt in the last few weeks erupted into violence. I was yelling and crying and pounding my fists against his chest.

  “Stop it—you’ll hurt yourself,” I heard him growl.

  It didn’t stop me.

  His hold on me became bruising and he gave me a gentle shake. “Stop it,” he commanded hoarsely. “Lexie, stop.” And then he was kissing me. Hard. Desperate.

  Stunned, I stopped struggling.

  I let him kiss me, his hands moving from my arms to my hair, holding me to him as he kissed me like he needed to do so more than he needed to breathe.

  Finally my brain blinked back into action and I froze, my lips no longer moving against his. Caine felt my reluctance and his kiss gentled. He brushed his mouth once, twice, over mine before pulling away.

  We stared at each other, equally confused by what had just happened.

  “I’m leaving” were the first words out of my mouth. “Not the apartment. I mean yes, the apartment, but more than that. Do you remember Antoine Faucheux? I introduced him to you at the airport.”

  Caine’s fingers bit into my arms. I didn’t think he even realized. “I remember,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “His sister offered me a job with her events management company in Paris. I accepted the offer today. I leave in four weeks.”

  For a moment he searched my face as if attempting to discern my seriousness. Eventually his hands dropped from my arms and he took a step back. “Is that why you were crying?”

  Anger flared through me worse than the pain I’d felt earlier. “I just told you I’m leaving Boston and that’s your reaction?”

  His jaw clenched as he glared at me.

  A somewhat better reaction than his previous bland question.

  “No, that’s not why I was crying,” I answered anyway. “I found the photographs.”

  Confused, he shrugged. “What photographs?”

  “The ones you have of me, of us, in the side table.”

  His reply was to take a few more wary steps back.

  Renewed tears trembled on my lashes. “I’m leaving you. So the only thing you’ll have left of me are those fucking photographs.”

  The blank wall came slamming down over his face.

  I got it now. It was just like Effie said. Caine was never more cold and distant than when he was determined to hide what he was really feeling.

  “I’m not going to stand here and have the same argument with you over and over. What I will say is that when I walk out that door I’m walking out of here hating you for throwing me away when the truth is … the truth is you love me. I know you do, even if you deny it. And if it were me, Caine, I wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of you ever hating me, no matter how far apart we are, and I will hate you if you don’t stop lying. So you either tell me what it is you’re hiding or you don’t, but you should know I will definitely never forgive you if you don’t.” I swiped away my tears. “And I’m so tired of the whole concept of unforgiveness.”

  I waited for what seemed like forever for Caine to answer me. When he did I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. His eyes hard, he nodded. “Fine, you want the truth, I’ll tell you the truth, but take your pills first.”

  “I can do that,” I said, not liking the brittle, snappish tone he was using.

  Once I’d swallowed the pills and was seated on the sofa at the other end of the room, Caine paced for a while, back and forth in front of me.

  “Are you going to sit down?” My heart had begun to pound at his increasing anxiety.

  Oh God, what is he hiding?

  Instead of sitting, he stopped to face me.

  My stomach felt sick.

  When Caine met my gaze, that feeling worsened. He looked angry, and I didn’t know if that was because of me or himself.

  “Caine,” I whispered.

  “I’m not the guy for you, Lex,” he said, and I knew that he truly believed it.

  I flushed with annoyance. “Surely that’s my decision to make.”

  “No, that’s my decision to make.”

  We stared at each other while I bit back an infuriated response.

  Caine crossed his arms over his chest. “Only Henry and the people involved know this about my past. I’ve worked hard to make sure it stays buried.”

  Oh fuck, oh God, oh hell, oh fuck …

  “At school I was working as a waiter at this fancy restaurant in Society Hill. I’d gotten into Wharton on my scholarship, but I wasn’t living in the greatest student housing in Philly and I still needed money. I needed money to survive, but I also needed money to invest. I met Henry in college and he had connections. He got me the job at the restaurant. It paid better than most … While I was there I was propositioned by this older woman. A wealthy older woman.”

  If it was possible I think my heart stopped for a moment.

  Caine’s gaze bored into me with some kind of twisted determination. “She offered me a lot of money.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, not believing where this confession had led. If I’d placed a bet on what his secret was, I would have lost huge. “You did it? You had sex with her for money?”

  He gave a short nod, so tense he looked ready to shatter. “The way she saw it, I was perfect—I was a Wharton man, not some ignoramus off the street, but I was also poor and ambitious. She asked the right questions, worked it out, knew what she was doing, knew I might let her manipulate me. And I did. I thought what the hell? It was just her.”

  Realization hit me with force. My stomach knotted. “But it wasn’t, was it?”

  He shook his head. “It was the kind of titillation a bored housewife was looking for. She told a friend she trusted and before I knew it I didn’t need the waiter job. I had a clientele.” He bit the word out bitterly. “It was perfect. There was no chance of it getting out, because none of these women could afford for people to discover they were paying a college student for sex. I made enough money in nine months to invest. I invested wisely and saw a huge return. From there I invested more and so forth.”

  “A big enough return to start up the bank.”

  Caine finally looked at me, seeming to dare me to hate him. “Henry walked in on me with one of my clients one time and discovered the whole thing. He’s the only one who knows how far I sank to get what I want.”

  “That’s why you’re weird whenev
er I ask about Wharton. Why you hate me around Henry, because he’s the only one who could tell me the truth?”

  “That and he gets a kick out of pissing me off by flirting with you all the time.”

  I ignored that, too stunned, reeling from his revelation. “That woman at the Delaneys’ party … she was one of them, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, his expression still taunting. “She’s from Philadelphia. I rarely cross paths with the women from that time in my life, but I knew she was going to be there—”

  “That’s why you were in a mood that whole day and at the party …” I stood up slowly and he watched me warily. “That’s why you ended it with me.”

  “It could never work between us.”

  “Because of this?”

  “Lexie, I practically sold my soul to get where I am today. I’m a selfish bastard … and you …” His eyes washed over my face. “You’ve already lost everything to keep your soul intact.”

  “Caine.” I couldn’t say anything for a minute. I was strangled by emotion.

  He abruptly started to walk away.

  “Don’t go,” I cried out.

  He stopped, turning slightly to look back at me.

  “I love you,” I said through my tears. “I love you so much. Nothing changes that. Nothing.”

  He huffed in irritated disbelief. “Not even the fact that I was a whore?”

  I flinched at the word. It wasn’t an easy truth to swallow, and if I didn’t know him, know how life had cheated him from the start, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to see the big picture. But I could. I didn’t blame Caine for what had happened. I blamed them. “They used you,” I argued.

  If anything, this seemed to piss Caine off even more.

  “No, they used you,” I repeated. “Yes, you used them, but they used you too. You were just a kid.”

  “I stopped being a kid at thirteen, Lexie.”

  “You were just a kid to them. And you were a kid, whether you want to admit it or not, and you were hurting. You got through what happened to you because you had ambition to focus on. So you did something you’re ashamed of now … but it got you where you are. Do I wish it were different? Yes. I wish that wasn’t your past. I’m pretty sure right now you do too. But we can’t change it. It was years ago. You’re not the same person now. We just have to leave it where it belongs. In the past.”

  “It’s not part of the past,” he snarled, seeming enraged by my understanding. “It’s who I am—it’s what I’m capable of! I use any means to get what I want and I don’t give a shit who I hurt in the process.”

  “No.” I shook my head, not believing that for a second. “It’s not who you are. Not with me.” I reached for him, my fingers stroking through his hair as I curled my hand around the nape of his neck, trying to draw him closer. “You’re lying to yourself. You’re holding this up as a way to keep me locked out. But it’s too late. I’m in. You love me.” I smiled softly as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against my words. “You love me,” I repeated, “and you’ll never hurt me. And I will never hurt you. I will never use you like they did, like they all did. Because I want you. Just you.” I pressed my forehead against his jaw and held on tighter to him. “No one will ever understand like I do. You’re so different with me, baby. You take care of me. You make me feel safe. You’re not who you think you are. Didn’t you once tell me that people aren’t just one thing? You’re so much more to me than anything you might have done in the past.”

  “Lexie,” he said, his voice guttural, “I told you this to wake you up. A man like me isn’t capable of being your fucking white knight.” His fingers peeled my hand from his neck and he gently pressed me away.

  I felt the anger boil up inside me. “I’m not looking for a hero!”

  He flinched at the emotion cracking my words.

  “I never asked for that.” I shook, my hands curling into fists at my side. “I just wanted you, because despite what you might think, I see you. And no, you’re no fucking white knight, but you’re what I want.”

  When he said nothing I felt my whole body turn cold.

  “I won’t stay,” I warned him. “I won’t try to fight for you anymore. This is it. If you walk away it’s not for me. I won’t ever think that. I will always, always blame you for this. For ruining us.”

  The silence of the apartment around us seemed to stretch, expand, and thicken like a monster in the dark. For a while we just stood there facing each other as the monster destroyed any chance of the connection that would stop us from breaking apart for good. Finally Caine wrenched his gaze from mine and turned his back on me.

  I walked out of the room, suturing up the gaping wound in my chest with the last of my mental and emotional strength. I made it to the guest room, wound temporarily sealed. I was determined it would stay sealed just long enough for me to get the hell out of Boston.

  CHAPTER 30

  Caine,

  After last night I’m sure you understand why I can’t be here anymore. For a while I held on to the hope that if I could just get you to open up to me, to tell me your secrets, then everything would work out for us. Since you’re determined to keep us apart, I’m determined to move on with my life.

  I’m heading to Connecticut now to see my dad. The attack brought back a lot of those issues, and I need to try to resolve them before I leave for Paris.

  I want to thank you for taking care of me these last few weeks, and I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done to try and find the moron who did this. I truly believe he’s lost in the wind, but it doesn’t matter now since I won’t be around long enough for his possible reappearance. When I return to Boston I’m going to fly out to Paris as soon as possible to look at places to rent, etc. Although I truly am grateful for what you’ve done, I would appreciate it if you’d stay away when I return to Boston. I don’t want to see you again. I want a fresh start. You owe me that.

  I hope you find peace. I hope you find happiness.

  Lexie

  Standing out on the lawn of my childhood home, I was still carrying with me that strange mix of fear and resolve. I didn’t know what I expected to get out of this. I just knew that if I wanted to move on with my life, I had to talk to him.

  Getting out of Boston had been easy. Getting out of Caine’s building, not so much. Upon his departure for work that morning, I wrote him a good-bye note, and I headed down to the front desk. Arnie and Sly were waiting for me.

  They tried to detain me, but when I reminded them that was illegal, they let me go. It took me twenty minutes of arguing with them before they realized I meant it when I said I’d call the police on their asses. I felt bad since they’d been protecting me for the last few weeks, but once I’d made this decision, no one, and I meant no one, was standing in my way. Still, as I made my way to the bus station I couldn’t shake the paranoia that had come as a result of my attack. I found myself constantly glancing over my shoulder and imagining the burn of someone’s stare on the back of my neck.

  That and the fact that the bus journey was not fun on my wounded body meant I wasn’t in the greatest shape by the time I got to my parents’ home.

  Our house had been very modest. My mom bought it when it was just the two of us and she bought it on her teacher’s pay. My father hadn’t contributed much over the years, jumping from one job to the next, so we’d never left. It was a one-story, two-bedroom house with a wood-clad triangle brow that sat over the tiny porch. The freshly painted gray wood was mimicked in the attached garage’s door, the banister on the porch, and entrance. The house itself was built of quaint pale blond brick. It wasn’t much but it was well kept. Even the lawn had been freshly mowed. Clearly my father was more capable of looking after himself than he’d ever let on in the past.

  I lifted a hand to tuck away the hair that was blowing in my face and I was surprised to find I was trembling.

  Shaking that off, I took a deep breath to try to ease the pressure on my chest.
It felt like it was closing on me.

  “Come on, Alexa.”

  Somehow I made it onto the porch and I could hear a television playing from inside. I rang the doorbell. The television noise muted and I heard footsteps coming toward the door.

  I was going to be sick.

  For some reason there was a painful twinge in my wound.

  The door swung open and a tall, good-looking man stood before me. He was slim with broad shoulders, and he had a full head of black hair peppered generously with gray that contrasted sharply with his bright gray eyes. He looked a heck of a lot like Edward Holland. Even in cheap clothes he seemed to radiate a sense of class and money. His features slackened with shock. “Alexa?”

  My lips felt numb. Somehow I managed to force out, “Hi, Dad.”

  “What are you doing here?” He stepped back, allowing me to enter the small living room. A closed door on the left-hand side of the room led into the kitchen. The kitchen led onto a backyard that was massive in comparison to the house. The door directly opposite the front door led into a small corridor, which led onto two small double bedrooms and a family bathroom.

  I gazed around, hit by a wave of memories.

  The furniture was the same after all these years. Pictures of us as a family still hung on the walls.

  “Lexie?”

  Our eyes met.

  I hadn’t expected to find our home … well, still as our home. I’d built this picture up in my head of the place being stripped back, barren of us, erased by everything that was him. But no. Mom was everywhere here.

  This had momentarily distracted me, but reading the wary confusion on his face, I wondered if any emotion he ever showed was actually real.

  He gestured to the couch. “Take a seat, Lexie.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  “What’s this about? I haven’t seen you since your mother’s funeral and I think this is the most you’ve spoken to me in seven years. What’s going on?”

  “I was attacked,” I blurted out.

  My father paled. “Attacked?”

  I nodded. “I was leaving work and a guy stabbed me. He was wearing a hoodie and I didn’t see his face … We haven’t caught him, but the police are investigating it and think the attack might have been premeditated.”