Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1)

by Stephanie Rowe

  And now, after surviving through it all, here she was again. With an outsider who was going to abandon her...Son of a bitch.

  Maybe his daughter was right.

  Maybe he was a bastard, too.

  Clare cried for the loss of her childhood dream. She mourned the loss of a man she'd loved with such innocence and hope. She grieved the deprivation of a family for herself and for Katie. And she cried for the truth that she hadn't been enough to keep her husband alive.

  She hadn't cried when Ed died.

  She'd sat at the funeral in stunned silence, holding her tiny baby, silently resolving that she would not abandon her daughter the way Ed had. In that moment, she'd shut down her heart, she'd closed off emotions, and she'd gone into full drive to create a safe haven for her daughter.

  For fifteen years, she hadn't slowed down enough to grieve. She hadn't let herself mourn the life she wasn't ever going to have. She hadn't paused to let herself feel the loneliness of an empty bed. She hadn't dared take a moment to breathe, to feel, to think.

  Until now.

  Until Griffin had made love to her all night and held her in his arms until dawn.

  Until his own pain with his daughter and his kindness to Katie had cracked a hole in Clare's heart that she couldn't glue shut anymore.

  And now... God, she wished she couldn't feel anymore. She wished she was the woman she'd been for fifteen years. Because the anguish in her heart, the pain in her soul, the sheer devastation of her spirit was beyond what she could handle.

  She should push Griffin away. Run for the door. Climb a mountain and shout her strength from its peak.

  But she couldn't. She simply had nothing left. The weight of fifteen years of fighting on her own was simply too much.

  "Come on," Griffin said as he swept her up in his arms and stood up.

  Clare clung to him, unable to stop the tears, the pain, the sobbing, and she didn't care where he took her. "Just don't leave me," she gasped through her tears.

  "I won't."

  Her relief at his reassurance was mind-numbing. How could she be so afraid of being alone? She had to be able to be alone, to handle it on her own. That was her life. That was what she did. She couldn't get weak. She couldn't get weak.

  But there were no reserves to draw upon. No courage. No strength. No plucky mantra. Just pain. Grief. Loss. Hopelessness. Griffin felt like her only anchor, the one thing she could hold onto to keep from being sucked down into the abyss.

  Griffin set her down on the bed, and she clung to his neck as the bed sank beneath his weight. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into his body, tucking her against him like she was a tiny child and he was a great protector.

  In his arms, she felt safe. For the first time in fifteen years, she felt safe.

  She buried her face in his chest and cried, clinging to the feel of his arms around her, of his gentle kisses on her head, of his low whispers of reassurance.

  She had no idea how long she cried, but Griffin never moved. He stayed right where he was, holding her until she had no more tears, until she was too drained to cry any longer. She finally lay in exhausted silence in his arms.

  "How do you feel?" His question was a whisper as he rubbed her back.

  "Empty. Like there's nothing left inside me at all." She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, squeezing her eyes closed, using him to hide from her life. How could it feel so good to lean on him? How could it be such a relief to simply let herself be vulnerable and exhausted, turning to him for comfort and strength. She was the one who took care of others. She never let her guard down. She never let herself need anyone to hold her up. She couldn't afford to, and yet that was exactly what she'd done with Griffin. As terrifying as it was to fall apart, having him there to take care of her was…God…beautiful? A relief? A huge, warm breath of respite from her life?

  "Good." He kissed her forehead. "It was time for all that to finally leave."

  She rested her head on his shoulder and tucked herself more tightly into his embrace, wanting to crawl into the comfort he gave her. "I haven't cried like this before. Not for him."

  "It's okay to cry," he said. "It's always okay to cry."

  New tears filled her eyes at his acceptance of her meltdown. "I have to be strong."

  "Crying doesn't mean you're not strong," he said as he combed her hair back from her face with his fingers. "It means you care."

  "I don't want to care," she whispered, clenching her fists against the pain in her chest. "It hurts."

  "I know it does." Griffin rested his chin on her head in an intimate gesture that softened the sharp edges digging at her heart. "I know it does."

  Clare thought of his nightmare, and how his body had been trembling when she'd woken him up. He did know. He understood. "Thank you," she whispered, resting her palm on his chest, needing to feel his strength and his warmth.

  "You're welcome." His voice was careful, too careful. "Clare?"

  She tensed in sudden nervousness. "What?"

  "I don't want to make life difficult for you." He kissed her forehead, and his arms tightened around her. "I know my presence in your life is complicating things for you with the town and your daughter, but also in here." He laid his hand over her heart. "I can't stay in Birch Crossing forever. I have a life I need to return to, and I don't want to do to you what Ed did."

  She squeezed her eyes closed, as tears leaked out. She knew what he was going to say, and she didn't want to hear it.

  "It might be best if I moved out of your place for the rest of my time here. I'll find a place in another town where I won't interfere with you and Katie."

  The tears were hot and wet on her cheeks, and Griffin rubbed them away with his thumb.

  He grasped her shoulders and gently rolled her onto her back, forcing her to look at him. His face was serious, his expression heavy, but there was tenderness in his eyes that made her want to cry even more. "You need to understand, Clare, that I think you're amazing. If my life were different, if I were different..." He sighed and brushed her cheek with the back of his hands. "I just want you to know that I don't want to move out. I want to stay here with you for whatever time we have left."

  "Then stay," she blurted out.

  He froze, but hope flared in his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "I'm already broken inside." She touched his whiskered jaw and saw her hand was trembling.

  Anger flashed in his eyes. "You're not broken—"

  "I am." She placed her finger over his lips. "If you leave now, or in a week, it won't change that you've touched my heart." She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I would rather have you for a week than a day."

  "Clare—"

  She put his hand over her heart. "Can you feel this?"

  His eyes darkened. "Your heart is beating."

  "Yes, it is. And it hurts every time it beats. It didn't hurt before you."

  He swore and pulled his hand away. "That's why I should leave—"

  "That's why I want you to stay."

  He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. I don't understand."

  "I don't either. Not really. But I know that it is what needs to happen." She put his hand back on her heart and snuggled closer to him. "My heart aches at the thought of you leaving before you have to. You're supposed to stay. You're not finished here yet."

  He lightly tapped his fingers on her chest. "I have a mission?" he said thoughtfully.

  "I think you do."

  His gaze met hers. "To save the cupcake queen from her own demise?"

  Clare managed a small smile. "Something like that, I think."

  "Huh." Griffin rubbed his jaw. "How will we know when I'm done?"

  "I think we'll just know."

  Griffin blew out his breath. "Are you sure about this, Clare? I don't want to hurt you anymore than you've already been hurt." He studied her face. "It's important to me that you're okay."

  At his words, something swelled in her heart, a warmth that star
ted to fill the vast emptiness inside her. And she knew what his job was. His role was to make her heart beat again, until she could do it on her own. As terrible as it felt right now, it was better to have each heartbeat send pain cascading through her than to be dead inside like she had been for so long. She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I want you to stay until you have to return to Boston."

  He searched her face, and finally he nodded. "I'll honor you every moment, I promise," he said seriously.

  "I know you will." She sagged back into the pillow, too exhausted to hold herself up now that she knew he was staying. Now that she knew she could trust him to take care of her. She didn't have to do it herself anymore. Not right now. For right now, for the next day or two or three, she could lean on him.

  He rubbed his thumb under her eye. "You look exhausted."

  "I am." Her body felt so weak she was sure she would fall if she tried to stand. "Two hours of violent sobbing will do that to a woman, I guess."

  He kissed her lightly, then snuggled her against him. "Go to sleep. I'll hold you."

  Clare closed her eyes and let herself subside into the strength of his body. "You'll be here when I wake up?"

  "I'll be here."

  She yawned as sleep started to claim her, offering her peace in his arms. "Promise?"

  He tightened his arms around her. "Promise."

  Griffin knew the moment Clare fell asleep. Her breathing deepened, and her body seemed to finally release all the tension she'd been holding. She melted into him, completely entrusting herself to him with no reservations and no resistance.

  He lightly rubbed her lower back while he listened to the sound of her breathing. Her skin was so soft beneath his hand. She was so vulnerable yet admirably strong. He kissed her head, smiling at the fragrance of spring and woman drifting around them. He would forever think of her when he smelled a flower, or stood outside on a wet, spring day and breathed in the freshness of the earth.

  A bird chirped, and he turned his head. Two birds were sitting on a tree branch outside the window. Little brown sparrows. One of them had a stick in its mouth, and it flew up to a crook in the tree. As he watched, they began to carry more twigs. Some of the sticks were huge, bigger than he would have thought the tiny birds could manage.

  He smiled, pulling Clare closer against him. He couldn't believe how content he felt. Here it was, almost nine o'clock on a workday, and he was lounging in bed, completely at peace. He felt no urge to set Clare aside and head off to his computer. He was actually watching birds and finding them interesting. He almost laughed just thinking about it. Birds. Really.

  He couldn't remember ever sitting still for this long without getting antsy. He thought back to the night he'd been waiting for Norm, and how impatient he'd been when Norm had told him to take the time to look at the stars.

  He grinned. Someday, maybe he'd take Clare out in her backyard and look at the stars with her. Maybe take a bottle of nice wine from his wine closet, a soft blanket and—

  His phone rang, a loud shrill in the peace of the moment. He grimaced as Clare mumbled in her sleep, and he leaned over the edge of the bed to snag the phone out of his sweatpants pocket from where they were lying on the floor after he'd tossed them, needing to feel Clare's skin against his again. He pulled it free and silenced the call from Phillip.

  Scowling, Griffin set the phone on the nightstand as he repositioned himself around Clare. Screw Phillip. He didn't want to deal with that right now. He wanted to be here right now. With Clare. Giving her the comfort—

  The phone rang again, and Griffin lunged for it, cutting off the ring before it could wake her up. "What?" he said as he slid out from under Clare and walked into the bathroom. "What's so important?" He made sure Clare was still sleeping, then quietly shut the door behind him.

  "We're in, Griffin! We're in!" Phillip's voice was shrill with excitement, and he sounded out of breath.

  "In where?" Griffin tried to keep his voice low, not wanting to wake Clare.

  "In Your Face! When our lawyer told the owners that we were interested, they got really excited. Apparently, their kids wear Free Love Slippers all the time, and when they realized that we were the same crew, they wanted to meet with us."

  Griffin leaned against the sink. "When?"

  "Today. Can you be here by one o'clock?"

  "In Boston?" Griffin looked around the pale blue bathroom with its footed tub and its antique mirror. Boston seemed so far away from where he was. It felt almost surreal, being yanked from Clare's bed into the world of fashion and high-stakes negotiation.

  "Yeah, in our offices. This is big, Griff. I think if they like us, they're going to be willing to take a lower price just so it can go to us. You're our dealmaker. I need you here."

  "By one o'clock?" Griffin ran his hand through his hair as he tried to focus. His mind felt sluggish, still back in the bedroom with Clare, wrung out by all the emotions he'd experienced during her tears. "That's only four hours from now."

  "It's a three and a half hour drive. What's going on? You bailing on me for a bunch of pine cones?"

  "No, no. Of course not." Griffin turned on the water and splashed some over his face. "I'll be there by one."

  "Great. Call me when you're on your way, and we'll talk strategy." Phillip hung up without another word.

  Griffin leaned his phone against his chest for a moment, trying to regroup. He'd been so immersed in Clare he'd literally forgotten about In Your Face, which he never did. The fact he'd blown off work so completely was more than a little unsettling.

  And even now, with the possibility of a deal looming, he didn't want to leave her. He'd promised he'd be there when she woke up. But he had to go work the negotiation, and there was no way to be in two places at the same time.

  Griffin quietly opened the bathroom door and leaned on the door frame. Clare was still asleep, and she was facing him. Her face was pale, and there were tear streaks on her cheeks. Her hands were tucked underneath her chin, and she'd curled her knees up to her belly.

  She looked tiny and vulnerable in her big bed.

  Griffin forced himself to look away, steeling himself against the need to crawl back into bed with her. He had to go. He had to take care of this deal. It was what he'd been angling for. In Your Face was his ticket to everything he wanted. He couldn't leave it to Phillip to win the owners over. His partner was a great businessman, but he wasn't always the most charming guy on the block, even when he was trying.

  If they were going to win this deal, Griffin had to be there.

  He looked at Clare again, debating whether to wake her up and tell her he was leaving. He had to. He'd made a promise to be there when she woke up, and he couldn't go back on his word. He walked over to the bed and crouched beside her so his face was level with hers. "Clare," he said softly.

  She didn't move.

  He touched her tousled hair. "Clare," he said again.

  Still no response, except the deep breathing of a woman who was exhausted.

  He'd kept her up all night, and she'd had a rough morning. She needed her sleep. Hell, maybe she'd sleep all day and he could make it back before she woke up. Griffin swore under his breath, unable to make himself deprive Clare of the peace she'd finally found.

  Griffin opened her nightstand and found a pen and a scrap of paper. He paused for a moment to think, then scribbled a quick note. He propped it up carefully against her lamp, wedging it in place with a jar of lavender scented face cream to make sure it wouldn't fall to the floor before she could see it.

  He rested his forehead against hers. "I'll be back tonight," he whispered. "Wait for me."

  Then he kissed her lightly, grabbed his clothes and headed out the door.

  Chapter 19

  Clare woke up in a panic. Her heart was racing, her mind was screaming and her hands were shaking. She bolted upright in bed, terror seizing her chest. She looked frantically around, trying to find the cause of her fear, but she was in her room. The sunlight was streamin
g in, making the faded bedroom look worn and tired. Everything was okay.

  She flopped back in bed, pressing her hands to her chest as she tried to calm down. For years after Ed had died, she'd awoken with panic attacks, terrified that she'd forgotten to do something important, like bring her baby home from the grocery store, turn off the oven or pay a bill, but it had been a long time since she'd had one.

  What had brought it on now? She tried to think of what she'd forgotten. The fight with Katie this morning. Telling Griffin about Ed— "Griffin!" She sat up again and looked around the room. The bathroom door was open, and she could see no one was in there.

  He'd left? He couldn't have left. He'd promised—

  She lunged to the side of the bed to check the floor. His shoes were gone. "Oh, no." She tumbled out of bed and ran to the window. His truck wasn't in the driveway.

  "Oh, God." She stumbled backward, numb with shock. He'd left? He'd really left? Despite his promise?

  No, he couldn't have. He had to be there. She'd trusted him!

  She turned and raced down the hall. She threw open the door to his bedroom and ran inside. "Griffin!"

  He wasn't there.

  His computer wasn't on the desk.

  He was gone.

  Her legs started to shake, and she grabbed the dresser. The room started to spin. Tears welled up. Panic constricted her lungs. Alone. She was alone. Not again. She couldn't do this again. Her dad had died. Ed had left. And Griffin. He'd promised—

  She suddenly saw a pair of black socks sticking out of the top drawer. She grabbed the knobs and yanked it open.

  It was filled with his clothes. Silk boxers. Socks. Tee shirts. "Oh, God." Numbly, she sank down onto the bed, staring at the dresser. He was coming back. He was coming back.

  Relief shuddered through her, and she pressed her face to her palms as the terror faded. But she was still shaking. Her legs felt like jelly. Her throat hurt. Her chest was shuddering.

  What in heaven's name was wrong with her? A total freak out that he'd left? Of course he was leaving. She knew that.