He struggled to his feet, uncoordinated in his anger. “Legs for Lane. It makes me look pathetic, like an idiot! You have to take it down right now.”
She bit back her frustration. “I can’t, Lane! How many times do I have to say it? I’ve never set something like that up. And since I didn’t set this one up, I can’t take it down.”
He spun to face her, his eyes dark, full of fury. “No one else has those pictures,” he yelled. “What’s next, do you want close-ups of my stumps? Or how about some video of me trying to make it up a flight of stairs? Or how about we go back to the bridge and I’ll do a few pratfalls? That’s bound to bring the dollars rolling in!”
She sat back, stunned into silence, unable to think of a reply in the face of his anger.
The muscles in his jaw worked under his skin as he ground his teeth. “I won’t take a dime from it,” he said finally. “And I won’t take a dime from your friend, if there ever was a friend in the first place.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You think I’ve been lying about Holly?”
“Why not?” He snorted.
Taylor heard the words, but his accusation slid away. She felt detached, like this was happening to someone else. It was an old survival technique, the coping mechanism she’d adopted to deal with Brent’s anger. That she was now having to use it with Lane felt like a cruel trick.
“Taylor?” Cece stuck her head out the sliding glass door.
“Not right now, Cece, please?” Taylor sighed.
“I’m sorry, but it’s kind of important,” her cousin gulped.
“What?”
Cece stepped hesitantly onto the balcony. Tears stood in her eyes. “I ... it was Brent. He set up the fundraising site.”
Lane spun from the rail where he’d been standing staring out over the parking lot.
“What?” Taylor gasped. “How?”
Two tears rolled down Cece’s cheeks. “We talked about it when we were out of the boat, on the jet skis and you couldn’t hear us. He told me he wanted to help; he promised me it would be what you wanted. He told me you were so heartbroken about Lane’s prosthetics and wanted to do something and you’d given him permission to do the site. Then later he called and told me you’d forgotten to send all the pictures. But you were always so defensive and bitter around him, he didn’t want to call you. So he ... I ...”
The pieces were falling into place. “So you sent him the pictures from my phone?” Taylor asked.
Cece gave a small hiccup and swiped at the tears. “The other day when you were in the shower. You’d left your phone charging on the kitchen counter. When I saw you didn’t have a passcode, I ... I got into it and forwarded the pictures.” She cast a guilty look at Lane. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know ... I thought he was doing you a favor.”
“Yeah, because the first person I want doing me favors is my abusive ex-husband,” Taylor replied and Cece flinched at the bite in her voice.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered again. “I can contact the website and tell them to take it down.”
“Please do,” Taylor nodded shortly and for once, Cece took the hint and melted back into the condo.
Taylor took a deep, shuddering breath. Her hands were shaking and a headache pounded behind her eyes. It felt just like it used to.
There was a long silence, then Lane sighed and ran one hand through his hair. “Taylor ... I’m sorry. I guess I’m overly sensitive about it and I overreacted.”
Taylor fought for a sense of relief; but it didn’t come. Her stomach churned and she wrapped her arms around her ribs.
“Taylor?” Lane took a step forward.
She shook her head. “I think ... I think you should probably go.”
His face fell. “Why? It was all a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but ...” her chest tightened and she couldn’t form the words. What was happening? “I never meant for this to happen,” she stammered.
“No, it’s my fault,” Lane said. “I should have waited until I was calmer to come over. I should have trusted you; I do trust you. I acted like an idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Not that,” Taylor said. “This ... Us. I never meant for it to happen. And it can’t happen anymore.”
Disbelief washed over his face. “What do you mean? You don’t want to see me anymore?”
She nodded miserably.
“But why?” Lane pressed. “Everyone has disagreements once in a while. You can’t mean that you’re giving up after one misunderstanding?”
“It’s not just that,” she struggled for words. “I can’t do a relationship right now. I can’t go back.”
“You think I’m going to be like Brent?” he challenged.
“You were screaming at me the way he did,” Taylor replied. “I can’t do it again.”
Lane took a seat by her side. “Taylor, look at me, please?” he begged and finally she raised her eyes to his. “I’m not Brent,” Lane said softly. “I won’t ever be Brent, I promise.” He reached for her hand, but she shied away like he’d offered her a snake.
Lane gave her a long look, then finally let his hand drop to his lap with a sigh. “So I guess this means traveling is off?” he said.
Taylor bit her lip miserably. How could she do this? They’d made so many plans. How could she kill the new light in his eyes? He’d told her he’d quit his job and for the first time in a long time, he was looking at the future with hope. He wasn’t Brent, it was just a misunderstanding. This would blow over and everything would be okay, wouldn’t it?
But the blackness in her chest wouldn’t let go. “I guess I’m not ready for this,” she finally mumbled. “I don’t want a relationship right now.”
“I wasn’t looking for one either, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Lane said. “There’s never going to be a perfect time, you have to take it as it comes.”
Taylor shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Lane said after another long pause. “I guess you’ve made your point.” He got to his feet and moved past her to the sliding glass door where he paused. “For what it’s worth, I love you, and I think we could have had something amazing,” he said quietly.
Taylor forced herself to meet his eyes, but could think of nothing to say. She tightened her arms around her ribs, as if she could squeeze away the hurt pounding through her.
“Guess I’ll be seeing you,” Lane finally said. He slid the door open and disappeared inside, sliding it gently shut behind him. Taylor leaned forward, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her hands over her ears. She knew it was childish, but she didn’t let go for a long time, not until she was sure he’d gone and she wouldn’t have to hear the sound of his car driving away.
Chapter 15
Taylor had been ten. It was the fourth of July and they’d gone to the park to watch the fireworks show. It wasn’t quite dusk by the time they’d finished the picnic of tuna salad sandwiches, fruit salad, and her mother’s homemade snickerdoodle cupcakes with the cinnamon frosting she loved. The fireworks wouldn’t start for a while, so Taylor’s dad pulled out a box of sparklers to keep the kids entertained.
“Make sure to put the used ones in there,” he said, pointing to the metal can he’d brought along. “And don’t touch the end.”
“Duh,” Taylor rolled her eyes. Everyone knew not to touch the end of a sparkler. The warning had to be for Jaxon and Cece, younger than her and not as wise.
Uncle Mike pulled a lighter from his pocket and soon they were dancing to the sparklers, waving them through the darkening sky.
“Watch this!” Taylor crowed to her parents as she wrote her name in glowing letters, as big as her arm would allow.
Finally, her sparkler dimmed, until there was barely a glimmer, glowing as faintly as a piece of coal in the bottom of Grandpa’s wood burning stove. There was something hypnotic about it, like a twinkling fairy light. Taylor couldn’t help it, she reached out.
She thought she knew what burns felt like, but this one ... this pain was worse than she’d ever expected. She dropped the sparkler with a cry as the skin on her finger smoked and sizzled. Both sets of parents came running and between sobs, she told them what happened. Her mother went to get ice from the cooler, but her dad merely scowled.
“Didn’t I tell you not to touch it?” He demanded. “I told you this would happen. You never listen and when you don’t listen, you get hurt.”
Taylor had stared at him in sulky silence, angry that her pain was obviously not as important to him as making his point. Jaxon and Cece watched her with mute sympathy for a few minutes, then returned to the sparklers. Taylor went to the car and curled up on the back seat with ice on her finger; she didn’t even watch the fireworks. She still had the scar, a white stripe on her finger.
Thirteen years later, she’d learned nothing. She knew getting into a relationship with Lane would only bring hurt. But Taylor had been just as mesmerized by his glow as she had the sparkler’s. And look where it had gotten her. Burned again. And this one would leave a much bigger scar.
The screech of a bird call brought Taylor out of her reverie. She jumped a little, then stepped to the side of the trail and stopped. She’d been hiking the route to Timpanogos Cave in American Fork, Utah, mechanically, putting one foot in front of the other and completely ignoring the spectacular scenery. The bird called again, a harsh chittering noise that sent a shudder down her spine, like nails on a chalkboard. What kind of bird was it anyway? Lane would know. In the outdoor club, he could always identify the animals they came across. And the trees ... and the flowers ...
Taylor grit her teeth. It always came back to him; no matter what she did, no matter where she went, her thoughts always came back to Lane. It had been three weeks since that day at the condo, three weeks since she’d talked to him. It felt like an eternity, yet the ache was as fresh now as it was that night, when she’d cried in ways she never had before.
She didn’t just miss him, she ached for him. How had he become such a big part of her life so quickly? Waking up, her first thought was always of him—her mind automatically calculating the time difference and figuring out where he was likely to be, what he was doing. Every night sleep became elusive as she’d lie in bed replaying the times they’d spent together over and over, remembering. The heaviness in her chest was a constant reminder of her loss.
A dozen times a day she’d think of something she wanted to tell him and reach for her phone, only to remember she no longer had that privilege. A hundred times a day she’d check her phone, hoping against all logic he would have texted, that he would bridge the gap between them.
Taylor pulled out her camera and zoomed in on a patch of wildflowers. She snapped a few halfhearted pictures, not bothering to find the best angle or frame them as she usually did. She’d been neglecting her blog lately and it was starting to show. Readership was dropping and her editor Caylee had started asking questions. The blog was the reason she was here, hiking the steep trail to Timpanogos Cave even though she had no heart for it. She had to generate content somehow. If she could have her way, she’d turn around now, drive her borrowed car back to Holly’s house, and burrow under the blankets in the guest room, never to come out again.
Lane sat in his car in the Centrics parking lot, already dreading the day. Was this all there could ever be? He’d been okay, maybe not overjoyed, but managing. Then Taylor had come along and ripped the covers off, woken him up and made him remember that life could be more than a forty-five-hour work week and weekends in front of the TV.
Sighing, he rolled his head from side to side, seeking to relieve the tension in his shoulders. Asking for his job back had been humiliating, but far worse was the death of the daydreams he hadn’t even realized he’d started imagining. If life had been divided into two phases—before and after the accident—now it was divided into three—life before the accident, life after the accident, and life after Taylor. All the hope and joy she’d brought, all the raw possibilities for the future, were gone and now he was back to his forty-five-hour work week and weekends in front of the TV.
What had happened? Yes, he’d been angry about the crowdfunding page, but her reaction stunned him, left him speechless. To completely throw away everything between them over one argument didn’t make sense. But Taylor had done it and it was too late now.
He’d been following her blog, watching for the moment she started posting about her progress along the Appalachian Trail. They were supposed to have taken that adventure together and now he waited for the proof she had moved on without him, literally and figuratively. But as of this morning, she wasn’t there. She was posting from Utah and staying at a resort called Le Ceil. He’d Googled it and the resort was clearly five star all the way, not the sort of thing she usually went for. Last night he’d punched in the address on Google Maps and stared at the satellite pictures of the resort, as if this could be some kind of Men in Black moment and he could zoom in enough to see her face just as she looked up and smiled at him.
Lane knew it wasn’t a good idea to follow her blog—it would only bring him more heartache, remind him what he’d missed out on with both Taylor and the plans they’d dreamt about. But he couldn’t stop himself from clicking to it, ten, sometimes twenty times a day. If she tracked her stats, she’d see a jump in her traffic from Sioux Falls and probably guess it was him, like he was some kind of a stalker. Or maybe not, maybe she’d think it was her family, or Brent.
Brent. Lane couldn’t think about that without a surge of anger. The crowdfunding site, the personal visit to his office with cash, Cece admitted it was all orchestrated by Brent, obviously to come between him and Taylor. And it had worked spectacularly. Was Brent traveling with her now, was that why she was suddenly staying at a five-star resort?
Lane rubbed his eyes and shoved his car door open, wishing Taylor had never come back at all to show him what he was missing.
Chapter 16
“How did it go today?” Taylor’s friend Holly asked. She’d spent the day working at her job as the resort’s director of philanthropy while Taylor hiked to the cave.
“Fine,” Taylor said noncommittally from her seat on Holly’s expensive leather sofa. She had her laptop open and was working on a new blog post. Or rather, was not working on a new blog post. Her writer’s block had returned with a vengeance and all she could do was sort through her old posts and stare at the pictures of Lane. “The cave is pretty neat,” she finally managed.
“I remember going there once as a kid on a field trip,” Holly said. She set her briefcase down by the door and joined Taylor on the couch, kicking off her black sandals. “Do they still let you touch the salt and pepper shakers?”
“The what?” Taylor said dully.
Holly nudged her with a shoulder. “Did you even pay attention? The salt and pepper shakers are the only pieces in the cave they let you touch, to show you what happens to the stalagmites and stalactites when people get oils from their hands all over them.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s really kind of gross now that I think about it, thousands of people touching those things every year.”
Taylor briefly remembered their guide saying something about salt and pepper, but she’d been far back in the group and hadn’t really cared to pay much attention. “Guess I missed those,” she told Holly.
Her friend’s aqua eyes were sympathetic. “I talked to Lane today,” she said quietly.
Taylor dug her nails into her palm. Just because they’d had a falling out, didn’t mean Lane shouldn’t get the new prosthetics. She’d given Holly his number and they’d been working together directly. “You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Holly replied. “You asked me not to say anything, so I won’t.”
Did he ask about me?
The question stuck in her throat. Lane could probably guess where she was pretty easily by reading her blog but Taylor didn’t know which answer she w
anted—that Lane had asked about her, or that he hadn’t.
“Jordan has a contact in Ottobock,” Holly said after a moment, naming a top prosthetic maker. “I think they’re looking at the X3, which Jordan tells me is one of their best designs. It’s got sensors that will automatically adjust to his walking speed, terrain, and angle and hopefully save him a lot of energy.”
“That’s great,” Taylor mumbled.
“You should be happy for him,” Holly chided.
“I am. I just feel ...” she stopped. She didn’t know what she felt. What had happened to her? It was supposed to be a quick trip home, help Grandma, then leave. She hadn’t expected to fall in love. She hadn’t expected to be so scared about falling in love.
Yeah, Lane had jumped to conclusions over the crowdfunding site, but he’d realized his mistake and offered a heartfelt apology. He hadn’t turned it back on her and blamed her or laughed at her the way Brent would have. He hadn’t goaded her, trying to provoke even greater anger like Brent did. She’d been the one to go overboard; she should have accepted his apology and they could have moved on. Then she would be with him now. Instead she’d let all the old fear and hurt from the past take over and ruin everything. And no matter how many times she pulled up his number and tried to text him, something ... Fear? Pride? Anger? ... held her back.
“Did you get some good pictures of the cave?” Holly finally asked when it was evident Taylor wouldn’t say more about Lane.
“I guess,” Taylor replied. “Nothing special though. I did a Google search and there are already thousands of pictures and thousands of blog posts about Timpanogos Cave. What can I possibly have to add?”
“Well, what have you added before?” Holly asked. “There are already thousands of pictures and blog posts about other places you’ve been. People don’t read your blog because you’re showing them something they can’t see anywhere else. They read your blog because you’re showing them how you experienced it. That’s what they like, seeing it through your eyes.”
The Adventurous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 11
