by Sharon Kay
Her words lingered, roaring in her head like a sadistic echo in hell. Teasing. Merciless. Now that they were out there, she could never take them back.
Cruz, perfect man that he was, didn’t pull away. Didn’t ask her what the fuck.
Instead, he drew her close, wrapping her in his warm, inked arms as if she were about to break.
But now the floodgates were open. And the need to explain it all pushed with the force of a broken dam.
“I didn’t know,” she sniffed. “I didn’t know. It was early on. My periods have always been irregular. And it was winter. Everyone I knew was sick with some cold or flu or sinus thing. So maybe I had been feeling a little more tired and a little queasy now and then. I-I didn’t think anything of it.” She shook her head. “I never suspected. Peter and I were broken up already.”
Cruz tensed for a second and a rumble rose low in his chest. “Goddamn son of a bitch.”
“I f-found out in the hospital. When I woke up after surgery. I didn’t know where I was, or what happened. All I remembered was leaving the party. And snow. Lots of snow.” She paused, letting the images of her hospital room fully invade her brain for the first time in years. White walls and machines beeping near her head. Nurses with smiles that couldn’t hide the pity in their eyes. And Shane, looking like he’d been in a war zone all over again. “Shane was there. And our parents. It was good to have family there, for them to be the first people I saw.” She swallowed. “But when he stepped out, the doctor came in. And he told me everything.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“In one sentence, I found out I was pregnant and then I wasn’t.” She gazed at the towering trees in her yard, where bats circled and then flew off in search of dinner. “I told the doctor that I didn’t want anyone to know. And since no one else had even thought it, that was the end of it.”
“Except it hurt, and it still does.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“And it’s my fault.” Her voice cracked through a new onslaught of tears. “Everything that happened is my fault. I brought this on myself.”
“No. I don’t believe that for a second.” He ran a hand down her back to splay at her waist. “It was an accident. By definition, that is something that wasn’t intended. So there is no fault.”
“But I should have seen the signs,” she went on. “They were all there. Being tired. Feeling nauseated at random times. No period. I should have checked. Done a test. Something. But I didn’t.”
He cupped her tear-streaked face in his hands. “You are not at fault. You lost more than anyone knows.”
“I just feel like that makes everything so much worse,” she whispered. “It adds a layer of awfulness to a night that was already bad.”
“It’s not a reason to beat yourself up for years. You need to heal. And hindsight will make you insane. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“But …but because I didn’t ….I …it’s my fault.” Tears splashed onto his chest, his forearms. “I was so self-absorbed. So wrapped up in my own whiny pain that I never ever stopped to consider that something else might be going on. It didn’t even occur to me.” Grief wrenched from her throat in a keening cry. “And …and that little life is gone. Because of me. I-I was the only one who could protect it. It depended on me and I didn’t even know it was there. How shitty of a person am I?”
He kissed one damp cheek. “Baby, stop. You didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t I have that women’s or mother’s intuition that I hear about?” She shook her head. “Look how badly I messed up a chance at mothering. Now the possibility is gone. And it’s probably because the universe thinks I’d do a shitty job. Look at what happened. I’d just screw up again and again.”
“Stop.” He forced her to meet his eyes, and the compassion there slayed her. “I’ve seen you with children. You’ll be an excellent mom someday. I don’t want to hear you talk yourself down.”
“I was so selfish,” her voice rose as grief morphed into anger. “It’s my fault. There is no one else to blame. Now everything’s gone. Poof. Because I’m selfish.”
His eyes flared. “I don’t ever wanna hear you say that again. You are so far from selfish, you’re not even in the same universe. I’ve seen selfish people. And I’ve seen bad people. And I’ve told you before—you are not them.”
“But—”
“And you want to talk blame?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You want to know how much time I sat staring at a goddamn wall, thinking about blame?”
Her heart clenched at the reminder of his lost decade.
“That shit gets you nowhere. Nowhere. I can tell you because I’ve lived it. And I can see it in your face, hear it in your words, that you’re stuck in that night. And you don’t have to be.”
“I don’t know how not to be,” she said. “My life changed forever that night.”
“You’ve paid the highest price someone can pay. And I can look you straight in your pretty blue eyes and say that. Because I paid it too. I know what it’s like. And yeah, I know what it’s like to think back to the woulda, shoulda, couldas. If I hadn’t done shit when I was underage, they may not have placed me at the scene of that murder. Might not have been able to convince a jury that I was guilty.”
She sniffled, studying the Spanish on his arm. Sobrevivir. “You survived. But I still feel like I—I can’t get through this.”
“That’s why I got on my goddamn knee asking you to let me help.” He took her hands in his. “You can’t always do it alone. I will carry this for you, fight it for you. Be at your side, whatever it takes for you to see that you’re a good woman. You don’t have to tell the whole town. But it’s too much for you to handle alone. So you need to trust someone. Baby.” He kissed her swiftly, and she tasted the salt from her own tears that had collected on his lips. “I’m so glad you told me. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“You’re too good for me,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “No one is good enough for you.”
“I’m broken. All I have is a crappy past and bad decisions.”
“That’s not what I see.” He shook his head. “I see a woman who’s sexy as hell and likes to speak her mind. I see a woman who dotes on kids, who’ll help a friend anytime, who loves her family. And who deals with the good and bad at a job that’s not easy, on your feet all day or night. Who’s polite and sweet and remembers to ask what’s going on in other people’s lives.”
Cue the water works again. She just couldn’t stop.
“A person who makes bad decisions isn’t those things. You may have stuffed that night deep down where you thought it couldn’t get out. But keeping it there hurts you. Baby, I want you to stop hurting. Let me help.”
Sadness pounded at her with the force of a freight train. “Why?” Of all the things in life that might be coming her way, she wanted him at her side more than anything.
“Because damn it, Rosie Marlow, I love you.”
“I love you.” The words left Cruz’s mouth before conscious thought could stop them. Holy hell. He did love her.
He had no other explanation for why he wanted to ease someone else’s pain more than he wanted to breathe. He had no other words for why he wanted to smooth the edges that she thought were cracked and broken, and help her see what a miracle she was.
Rosie’s tear-filled eyes went saucer-wide and her jaw fell open.
“I love you,” he said again, liking how the syllables sounded coming from him, about her. “Everything about you. I know you’re not perfect, and god knows I’m far from it. But I’ll love every bit of yourself you give to me. Every sweet thought and every flaw. Every inch of your sexy skin.” He kissed her shoulder, where it met her throat. “And every drawled out word and every secret little place you wanna show me.”
“I…”
“I didn’t move here f
or a woman. All I ever wanted was a fresh start.” He stroked a hand down her arm. “But ever since you looked at me in your bar that first night, I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Cruz.” She cupped his jaw, eyes full of sadness. Not what he expected after confessing his love. “I…”
He laid a gentle finger on her lips. “Don’t say anything about who deserves what. I don’t want to hear it. We get dealt a hand in life. It might be good or it might be shit. But I want you. I don’t care what path you’ve taken to get here. I see you now, sitting here with your heart breaking because of the past. All I want is to help you put the pieces back together. I see you, all of you. But I get the sense that you only see that night.”
Wide eyes met his and she shook her head. “How can you read me so well?”
“Maybe I pay close attention to every little thing about you. How you talk more southern when you’re nervous or turned on.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Maybe no one ever paid me that much mind before. Or else I am a damn good actress.”
“Maybe a little of all of the above.”
“I’m glad you do. Pay attention.”
“I plan on doing it for as long as you’ll let me.”
“That long, huh?” She traced his arm again. “That makes me so happy to hear.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. And I really don’t want you paying attention to any other girl.”
“I don’t remember seeing any other girl in this entire state since I met you.” Maybe that was sappy, but it was the truth. “Only you, pretty girl.”
She ran her hands up his chest and found the top button of his shirt, then the next. Hell, he was on board for whatever she needed to get through tonight, though sex wasn’t what he expected.
But she got to the bottom, pushed the two halves of his shirt apart, and laid her hand on his pec. Over the words that defined his past. “This is who you used to be,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Now, it’s just a reminder.” He’d left that behind, literally and figuratively.
“You’re incredible,” she went on. “Amazing. I admire you for having the courage to move away from what you know and start somewhere new. To leave the bad stuff behind. I-I don’t have that.”
“I can help you be brave, pretty girl.”
“I can’t do it alone.”
“You’ll never need to.” He covered her hand with his. “I’m in this with you. It’s gonna be okay.”
She raised her eyes to his. “I never thought I’d ever hear anyone say that.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “I love you, Cruz.”
Her words were a sweet magic spell that made his heart feel like it no longer fit in his chest. She loved him. Despite her sadness and grief, she trusted him with the darkest parts of her. And that made him want to beat his chest with pride and at the same time, it instilled a deep need to always protect her. Both her heart, and her body. If she would give him the gift of her love, he would guard her with every fiber of his being.
He hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her close, brushing his lips across hers.
She sighed against him. “I never expected you. You just showed up, like some dark knight.”
He paused, holding in a surprised chuckle. That was something he’d never been called before. “Dark knight?”
“Um…I don’t know.” She bit her lip adorably. “That’s what I thought, that first night when you protected me from those guys. You came out of nowhere, and did what you did, like a …I don’t know. Like another word that you’ve told me you don’t want to hear.”
“I’ll be anything you want me to be, baby.”
“You already are.” She pulled his lower lip into her mouth, sucking gently.
God, her mouth was sweet, sassy, naughty, magic. His little temptress. Her hand caressed his chest, mimicking the way she loved to do with her tongue. Unable to resist her, he threaded his hand into her hair and gripped tightly.
He kissed her with the storm of emotions churning through him. She was so wild and unique, so opposite of him and yet…he’d never met anyone who fit him so perfectly. They were both flawed. Him publicly, her privately, but deeply enough to make them crazy—if they let it. He shaped her lips, nipping gently.
He’d had years to think about how he wanted to live, and being held in the past sure as hell wasn’t it. Now he just had to convince his pretty southern girl that she could do it too.
She pulled back to cup his jaw, and at that moment, bright flashes lit the sky.
She glanced to the starburst flares. “Ohhh, fireworks.”
He chuckled.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen these.”
“Oh, I have. Every year, millions of people pack in together at the lakefront to watch.” He’d spent his times picking pockets from those distracted crowds, but that was in the past. “But did you know you say fahrworks?”
“What? It’s fireworks.”
“You add extra syllables to everything else, but you make fire into one.” He tucked her under his arm. “You’re something else.”
She leaned on his shoulder. “Maybe I should read out loud to you, just pouring on the accent until you do my bidding.”
“I’ll take that any day. And you don’t need to ask to get me to do your bidding.” He stroked a hand down to her hip and patted. “I’m all yours.”
She left her hand tucked into his shirt as they watched each blaze of color explode in the dark sky. Watching fireworks on a front porch hundreds of miles from his past, with a pretty blonde who’d lived here all her life?
Not what Cruz had ever expected. But now, he couldn’t function without.
Chapter 27
Rosie leaned on the sparkling-clean bar that she’d wiped down ten times already. A handful of customers were kicked back, shooting the breeze with their bellies full. Brenda had checked on all the tables and only Gene and Howard sat at the bar.
The slow night suited Rosie just fine. She’d been distracted to the point of head-in-the-clouds obsession with Cruz. He was hers, and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
He’d been intense before. But now, after spilling her soul only to hear he loved her—she was in a bubble of happy delirium. Every time he wrapped her up tightly in his arms, her universe felt like it clicked into place.
Her phone buzzed in her pants pocket. Pulling it out, she grinned at the text bubble from Cruz. Didn’t matter that she only got the first few words in the notification. Anything he did made her happy. She swiped to see the entire message.
Cruz: I’m back at your house. Put the new locks on my windows.
Oh good, Rosie typed back, relieved. He spent most of his time at her place now. But the other day he’d stopped by his house and found two windows open. The same ones he’d mentioned to her weeks ago that didn’t lock. Nothing else seemed to be amiss, but it prompted him to fix them. Now no critters can get in and raid your fridge.
Cruz: They’d be out of luck.
True. All he had was a few beers and water bottles. See you in a couple hours.
Wake me up if you want. He added a purple devil face.
She sent him a kissy face and pocketed her phone. Whether awake or asleep, he would be a mountain of temptation lying there when she got home.
Deciding to check on George, she first paused by Gene and Howard. “You guys good?”
“Oh sure.” Gene grinned. “He’s losin’ so I’m real good.”
Howard grunted and shook his head.
Rosie found George at his post in front of the stove, music playing a song that was popular before she was born. As she neared she spotted a few new spices and seasonings besides the ones he used every single day. “Are you testing a new recipe?” She grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the bubbling pot. Taking a bite, she closed her e
yes. “Oh my gosh, this is delicious!”
“You know me, I’m always trying new things.” George grinned. “Now to decide when to roll it out—”
The oldies music and lights clicked off.
Rosie froze, the way people always do when the power goes out and they’re plunged into sudden darkness. The kitchen had no windows, but the emergency light came on over the door.
“Damn crap time for the power to go out,” George muttered. “We got five dinners roasting in the oven.”
Brenda ducked her head in. “Oh good, the emergency light is on. I’ll go talk to the customers.”
“I’ll check the office.” Rosie set down her spoon of sauce. “See if I can get to the circuit box.”
She walked into the hallway and headed all the way to the back. The circuit box was located in the employees’ room. A set of emergency lights above the back door cast thin beams of white into the darkness. She walked slowly anyway, not wanting to stumble. Almost there—
Two figures in black, wearing ski masks, leapt out of the door to the employees’ room. Fast. A cry tore from her throat.
One figure grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth.
The other leaned in to peer at her. “It’s her. Let’s go.”
Rosie struggled in this grip, but he was unmovable. Tall and built like a tank. She tried to make noise, kick the walls, anything. Panic shot through her. No!
She tried to bite down on the man’s hand.
He cursed and grunted. “Gimme the rag. She’s a feisty one.”
The second man passed him a cloth, which he swiftly pressed over her mouth and nose. Terror flared anew. Were they going to kill her?
She jerked back, twisted her head. An antiseptic scent filled her nose. No! No! What was this? Some chemical? She fought harder.
The second man opened the restaurant’s back door. The man holding Rosie forced her to move. She made her legs go limp and tried to slide down out of his grip.
“Fuck, you gonna be like that. Shit.” As if she weighed nothing, he scooped her up in his arms in a cradle hold and burst outside
