“You are,” she whispered, taking a step closer to him. And when he saw the tears fill her eyes, he wanted to believe her, and he wanted to be the man she needed. He wanted to cut off the words he knew were going to hurt her by kissing her and making love to her until neither of could move or remember that this was all supposed to be a temporary arrangement.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have some naive notion of who I am because of the accident. You put me on the goddamn pedestal that I never asked to be on, and now you’re looking at me like I’m a monster.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not. I’m not. But what do you expect? You’ve shared nothing about yourself. The most I learned about you was from Holly and Claire.”
He hung his head and set down his drink. For the first time, he felt compelled to get it all out. “Okay, Grace. Fair enough. Here’s the truth: When I was kid, I decided I was never going to get married. I was never going to have a family. Or a wife. I was going to leave Red River and be better than my parents and my brother, Jake. Because they were so fucked-up. My father had a tight leash on my mother and made so many bonehead decisions that he ultimately destroyed everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
Evan blinked and pushed the words he’d never spoken to anyone through. At the end of all this she was going to hate him anyway. At least he could say he’d been honest. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the sudden wave of unease as it crashed over him. Honesty, feelings, and the whole thing were highly overrated if this is what they did to a person.
Grace was looking at him with her head tilted, a tiny amount of hope lighting her green eyes. He’d be the one quashing that light out in a few seconds. “Last year, I found out that everything about my family had been a lie. Jake told us that he wasn’t our father’s son. When he was a kid, he overheard my parents arguing. My mother had been raped. And, uh,” his throat constricted and he stared up at the ceiling, blinking away the emotion, “they had contemplated aborting him. And my father hated him from the day he was born, and our mother, just…tried her best.”
“Oh, Evan,” Grace whispered. She wrapped her arms around him, all softness and sweetness. And just like every damn time he held this woman in his arms, he prayed that he could be what she needed. That she could somehow chip away at the man he’d become, and that someone else would appear, someone that was worthy of her. Grace gave herself to whoever needed her. She put everyone’s needs above hers and saw the good. She was soft and so goddamn sweet that he knew they wouldn’t be able to last. He wanted to stand by her and love her and soak it all in, every sweet morsel she offered him, but it wouldn’t be fair. He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away.
He took a deep breath; he was going to finish and then end this. “I didn’t know any of that growing up. All I knew was that Jake caused my parents a hell of a lot of pain. He was always in trouble with the police, and our mother would…just stand there at the window, waiting, pacing, crying and wait for him to come home. I could never understand. My father drilled into me that Jake was a complete disappointment, and it was my job to not turn out like him. To push myself and do better, be the best. ‘Don’t settle for anything but the best, Evan. Get out of this town, make something of yourself.’ Our mother was tortured. She wanted to love Jake. But my father…he hated him.”
He reached for his glass and downed the last of the whiskey. Finish this, Evan. “And for a long time, I think I hated him, too. Then when I found out the truth, I hated myself even more. I had spent so many years resenting Jake, thinking he was the cause of all of our problems growing up. But the truth was, he’d been carrying this goddamn lie his entire life. And Jake is a good man. Better than I could ever be.”
“Evan, you didn’t know, you can’t blame yourself. And I know you. You’re a good man—”
“It doesn’t matter now. I’ve gone down this road, this path I laid out for myself a long time ago. And it doesn’t involve marriage, or kids. And I’m sorry if you thought this was permanent or—”
Grace’s gasp, her physical step back from him robbed him of any more words. He squeezed his eyes shut because it hurt like hell to look at her. He was the biggest kind of asshole. But in the end, he was doing her a favor. He needed to remember that.
…
Grace’s chest heaved with each small breath she took. It hurt to look at him, to speak to him, to be so close to Evan and not know him. “You’re not the man who saved us from the car. That man risked his life to save a woman and little boy he didn’t even know. After they pulled me out of the car, you stayed. You stayed when his seat belt was caught.”
His handsome features were drawn, the mouth that had passionately, tenderly made love to her all night was pulled into a grim line. She was frantically trying to process everything he was saying and trying to keep whatever they had from self-imploding.
“Your father pulled a number on you,” she whispered, tears making it difficult to speak.
He paused, refilling his glass. “What are you talking about?”
“He brainwashed you. Because of his own inadequacies, he off-loaded that onto you. He drilled in the need for you to excel, to be the best, to skip grades and do more, faster, and forfeit your childhood.”
“You’re wrong. I wanted to be a doctor. Me. That wasn’t his idea. I’m the one who followed Chalmers around every day after school. I wanted to be just like him.”
“Then why aren’t you? Why is the thought of taking over his practice seen as a failure to you?”
“I don’t know; it’s just not good enough anymore.”
She nodded, trying not to panic. “Okay. So you don’t want to stay in Red River. You don’t want the practice. What do you want, then?” She didn’t dare breathe, not really believing she’d had the courage to ask that question. Please say me. Please say you want me and Chris. She watched, motionless as he swore under his breath and broke her stare. Acid churned in her stomach until she burned with the agony of Evan’s rejection.
She swallowed hard and wiped the tears from her eyes. “That shelter, across the street from the new Medcorp office is the one my mother and I always went to.”
“Grace—”
“No. I’ve been broke, and I’ve been homeless. And my mother taught me that all you have left in life when you’ve lost everything else are your principles, your beliefs. You can have money, Evan, but if you’ve lost the man inside, you’ve got nothing.” She waited for her words to sink in. She prayed for them to sink in. But those blue eyes weren’t soft. They were cool and distant.
“That’s a beautiful theory. But it doesn’t have to be so black and white. Everyone can choose a different path. Not everyone is cut out to be a saint-in-training.”
“What?” She knew she was shaking, her muscles trembling like a rock climber’s almost at the top of her ascent. She was humiliating herself. The man couldn’t make it any clearer that she had been nothing but a fling for him. Stupid, stupid fool, Grace.
He looked down into his glass for a moment and then up at her. “I can’t offer you what you want. But we can still see each other.”
Hurt and shame slashed through her body, making it almost impossible to stand up. To look at him. But she needed to know—before she walked out of here—if he loved her at all. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders even though they felt as though they were being held down by invisible weights. “That’s not good enough.”
Evan’s tanned skin dropped a few shades lighter. “I’m not good enough?”
She shook her head. “Your offer. It’s not good enough for me anymore. Or Christopher. Maybe it’s insane; maybe it’s completely unrealistic, and it will never happen, but we need to be number one in someone’s life. Chris has been number one to me since the day I knew I was pregnant. But to no one else. And I have never been number one to anyone. But Chris and I deserve that.”
“Grace, I will always help you if you need
something—”
“Money isn’t enough. I can provide that now. I have a job, and I have my art career finally starting. I don’t need a lot. I don’t need the kind of money you’re offering. I want your heart, Evan. I want you to tell me that you love me, my son, and that we can be together forever.” Her voice cracked on that last bit, but she wouldn’t stop. She was going for home. She’d never been this close to true love, to perfection, and she was going to give it her all, even if it killed her.
His face had taken on a gray color, every line completely drawn as he stood there, straight and tall, powerful and smart as hell. But so empty.
“Grace—”
She held up her hand and let the tears that were clogging her throat fall. “I love you. My little boy loves you. And I need that. I will support you, we would follow you, support your dreams whatever they were, but I need your love.”
That strong jaw just clenched incessantly, and she searched his eyes, looking for the tiniest hint of the emotion that filled her body, consumed her. She had just told him she loved him, and he didn’t say a word. “Maybe it’s hard to love another man’s child. I don’t know. I will forever be thankful to you, always grateful to you for rescuing us. But I messed up once for Chris. I can’t do it again.”
He was shaking his head. “I don’t need your gratitude—”
She wrung her hands together and the only voice that was left inside her came out as a whisper. “You promised me that you wouldn’t let Chris get attached to you.”
“I’m not the one walking away here, Grace.”
“Really? That’s what you think? You’re not even here. I’m here. I’m telling you that I love you, and you can’t even say the words back. So you know what? Yeah, I’m leaving. I’ve known three men in my life. I haven’t been good enough for any of you to stick around. I’m done with that. This time, I walk out.”
Ugly silence filled the gorgeous room; the only sound was Grace moving, collecting her things. She stood at the doorway for a moment.
“Grace, let me drive you home.” Her hand shook on the doorknob. She’d wanted him to say he was wrong, that he loved her. She didn’t care how the hell she got home.
“Screw you for treating us so well. You were everything I ever dreamed about in a man, in a father for Christopher. Screw you for making love to me like I was the only woman you’d ever wanted. This…what you did—” Her voice broke, and she ignored his tortured voice when he said her name. Get out, Grace, before you cave. “The last thing I want is your courtesy. I’ll find my own way home, Evan.”
Chapter Fourteen
Evan stood on the street corner of one of downtown Toronto’s most posh neighborhoods. The walk signal on the street corner lit, and the pedestrians around him moved like faceless drones, brushing against his shoulder as he stood still. He blinked. And suddenly, the designer shops disappeared, the imported cars faded away, and immaculately dressed people blurred to nothing.
He frowned, opening his umbrella as chilly spring rain splattered down from the sky and onto the street and sidewalks. He needed to move. He needed to get to his meeting. This morning, he would officially be made CEO of Medcorp, and all his ties to Grace would essentially be severed.
Lambert had called him the day after the gala, and just like that, everything Evan had ever wanted was handed to him. Except he was hungover, sitting on the marble floor in the hotel bathroom, and the glory of victory didn’t hit him. Not then, and not a few minutes later when he hurled into the toilet.
He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, pounding the pavement. If he could physically get to the building, then he could pull off the rest. Just focus, Evan. Never mind the distractions, the new sights he was witnessing. But even as he thought it, his eyes didn’t stay focused on the reality in front of him. Instead he saw Grace. And Christopher. Grace, kissing Evan’s scars, healing his soul. And Christopher holding his hand, telling him that if he ever had a dad, he wished it would be just like Evan. The accident, the memory of Grace and Christopher in that car, consumed him until he choked on it.
Evan shoved his hands in his pockets and discovered the item he’d apparently been carrying around since Grace had walked out on him. He pulled it out of his interior suit pocket and held it in his hands. The Spider-Man notepad. He flipped through it that night, his gut churning as he read all the items—in chronological order from the first day she’d arrived in Red River. The words tortured him. Meet Dr. Evan Manning…Thank Dr. Evan Manning…Give Dr. Manning muffins…Go shopping with Evan…Go to first day of work (don’t screw it up)…Go to wedding…Thank Evan…thank him for what?
Anger and regret filled him until he was sure he would explode. Grace always had a fight in her. She was always proud and in control. But seeing the tears and the dejection on her face that night tore at him and had haunted him since last week. He’d done the right thing in leaving, but he’d hurt her.
Rain tumbled onto the street, pedestrians walking faster, jumping over puddles. But all he could focus on was the image of Grace crying in front of him, holding up her hand as though she needed to stop an attacker tormented him. He had never been a man to make a woman cry. He’d never let a woman close enough to him to cause that kind of pain.
The last woman he’d seen so destroyed had been his mother, whenever she’d be waiting by the window for his brother Jake to come home. Evan could still remember the exact sound of her sobs, the look of anguish on her face when his older brother would stumble through the door, wasted and angry. His father’s words echoed in his mind: Don’t be a screw-up like your brother, Jake. You understand, Evan? You’re better than that. Don’t disappoint us. Evan squeezed his eyes shut. He’d spent his entire life excelling at everything. He’d skipped two grades, finished his undergrad early. He’d been conditioned to excel. But doing so now meant he’d failed the most important person in his life.
She’d get over him. It was better this way.
The sea of black trench coats and briefcases, nameless, faceless people passed by. The jarring brush of a shoulder against him, as he stood still in the parade, shook him from his thoughts, forcing him to action.
He took a deep breath and looked up at the Medcorp building, squinting as the sun bounced off the wall of glass. This was what he’d wanted. This was the path he’d chosen. He rode the elevator, staring blankly at the numbers as it coasted to the fiftieth floor. And then he walked into the pristine, stunningly modern offices of Medcorp. A jaw-dropping view of the city was the backdrop to the waiting room. Sleek leather chairs, glass-and-steel tables, and perfectly poised, coiffed patients. No creaking floors, just polished marble. No zany, raincoat wearing, pastry-eating patients, just society’s elite. He walked toward the massive, curved steel reception desk and forced a smile on his face as a tall, blonde woman rose and gave him the most composed smile. There wasn’t a hint of genuine emotion as she greeted him. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot without even the tiniest strand askew.
“Dr. Manning, how wonderful to meet you. Welcome.”
He didn’t maintain eye contact, because he was busy noting the immaculate surface of her desk. There wasn’t a picture of a mischievous four-year-old or potato-chip crumbs or a Spider-Man notepad. This desk was pure perfection. And a month ago he would have been impressed.
Minutes later he was entering his office. The door swung open, not sticking and creaking. It was a sprawling, lavish corner office. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Glass. Steel. He chucked his briefcase onto a leather chair and jammed his hands into his pockets, walking over to the windows. A million-dollar view. Problem was, in the last month he’d found an entirely different million-dollar view: in the form of a gorgeous, curvy, green-eyed goddess who had bravely told him his offer wasn’t good enough for her anymore, who had taught him more about what was important in his life than anyone.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Evan?”
Evan’s muscles stiffened at the sound of Alexandra’s cultured voic
e. His day was going from bad to worse. The only way he had a chance in hell at salvaging it would be to walk the hell out of here. A waft of Alexandra’s overly sweet perfume filled the room, and the sound of her heels clicking against the tiles indicated she hadn’t noted—or cared—about his lack of greeting. Somehow she managed to fit herself in the small amount of space between himself and the window. She reached out and settled her hands on his lapels as she smiled at him, and he knew: Alex was his past. She was a woman who symbolized everything he once was.
And God, did it hurt to look at her.
Almost as much as it hurt to look at himself in the mirror after letting Grace go.
It hit him then that he’d been all wrong about moving forward. For him, it meant going back to the place he started from.
He grasped Alex’s cool hands in his and removed them from his body, taking a step back. A step in the right direction. For once, he was going in the right direction. “I’m done. I’m walking out of here, and I’m going home.”
“But, Evan,” she said, a tiny crease appearing above her eyes where normal people her age had worry lines. “This is what you’ve always wanted.”
“I know. And aren’t I an idiot for only figuring out now that I was all wrong? I don’t want any of this.”
He turned around and walked out on everything he ever thought he wanted.
It was time to go home. To Grace and Christopher. To his family. To Red River.
…
Two hours later, Evan burst through Dr. Chalmers’s clinic doors like some fop in a black-and-white movie about to save the town. He didn’t even care. His eyes were focused on the empty desk and disappointment anchored him in the doorway. It took a moment before for the commotion in the room registered. One side of the waiting room was filled with Mrs. Jacobs, Mr. Puccini, their significant others…and Sheila. She was back from her cruise and judging by the lobster-esque glow of her skin, had failed to use sunscreen. He frowned because no one had even noticed him—they were all bending over tying up their shoelaces. He did a double take at a familiar-looking young man. Chicken boy. He was here. With flowers…seated beside Mr. McCann who was also holding a bouquet of flowers. Seriously? He’d been gone a week, and these two were moving in on Grace?
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