Ian was right there at my side, as if he belonged, shuffling through her drawers and stuffing everything he could into her bag.
We did it all quietly. Barely making a sound as we packed side-by-side. Still, a severity rang between us. The low, pulsing toll of an alarm.
“Ready?” Ian asked as he zipped Sophie’s diaper bag.
I could barely nod. “I think so.”
Ian walked over to Mallory.
For a moment, he froze, looking down at my sweet child where she slept face down on her bed, sideways, one leg kicked up and all her blonde hair spilled out in rivulets of golden locks over her bed. He seemed to hesitate, fighting some kind of war, before he released a shaky exhale and scooped her into his arms and hugged her against his strong chest.
Break. Break. Break.
I just kept feeling all those pieces creaking inside me. Coming loose. Getting lost forever. Scattering to the wind.
Mallory sighed in contentment, releasing a tiny yawn as she lifted her head in bewilderment before a massive smile lit on her face. She was whispering in a dreamy voice when she claimed, “Ian-Zian the Great.”
Ian blanched, almost frozen solid as he rigidly held my daughter.
“What are we doing? Are we going on an adventure?” she asked, far too excited.
He cleared the roughness from his throat, but his voice was still raw and low. “Yes, we’re going on an adventure to a special, special place. Is that okay?”
“Yes! I love adventures!”
“Okay,” he said, the word thick as he wrapped his arms tighter around her.
He glanced at me, and I picked a sleeping Sophie up from her crib. She didn’t even stir as I nestled her into my arms.
We all started for the door.
“Wait!” Mallory cried, a frantic whisper as she wiggled down out of Ian’s hold and raced for her bed. She dropped to her knees and pulled the sketchbook out from under it. Holding it against her chest, she went right back for Ian, eager for him to pick her up.
Carefully, he did, and she tucked the bulky book under one arm and snuggled into his arms, her face pressed to his neck.
His eyes dropped closed as his arms cinched tight around her small body, the man so clearly in his own private battle.
Lost in an old war that he had become a prisoner to.
Finally, he turned and walked toward me, mouthing, We need to go.
We ushered Thomas out ahead of us, my big, brave man wheeling both his suitcase and Mallory’s. I was right behind him, Ian towering over us from behind like a wraith that thrashed and whipped.
His darkness a hedge of protection.
We stopped at the end of the hall where my grandmother was still waiting.
“I’m so sorry, Gramma, for all of this,” I rushed.
She moved for me and softly pressed her lips to my cheek before she ran a weathered knuckle down my sleeping baby’s cheek, looking between me and my child. “Don’t you dare apologize, my girl. You are my gift. Now, yours has come.”
Her gaze traveled to Ian.
Overt and unabashed.
“Take care of them,” she told him.
I could feel him shifting uneasily on his feet. “That’s exactly what I intend to do. I think you should come with us.”
She gave a tight shake of her head. “No one is running me out of my house. I’ll be here to let you know if someone shows up sniffing around. Don’t worry about me. I’m a tough old girl. That coward knows it, too. I’m the last person he’s going to mess with.”
“Are you sure, Gramma?” I asked, not knowing if she was better off with us or without us.
“I’m sure,” she promised.
She moved to Thomas and lifted his chin with her finger. “You be a good boy and watch over your sisters, Thomas.”
“I will, Grams.”
“Has anyone told you lately you’re a good, good boy?”
Thomas blushed and kind of huffed. “Only you, Grams, and my mom about a million times.”
“You just keep proving to the world that you are.”
He nodded tightly, and I saw my son’s fear and ferocity.
She turned her attention on me. “Go on then. Call me in the morning and let me know that you’re safe.” She looked back at Ian. “I expect you to keep them that way.”
A flood of energy gushed from Ian. A promise that was felt rather than heard.
We all shuffled out the door and into the chilly night, the wheels of the suitcases zipping on the sidewalk as Thomas hauled them toward the street. Without saying anything, we moved to Ian’s car that was parked at the curb, the headlights still on and cutting through the dense, deep night where it idled.
Clearly ready for a getaway.
Leaving the suitcases at the trunk, Thomas opened the backdoor and climbed in, and Ian sat Mallory next to him.
He barely cast me a glance as he went to my car and removed the car seat that he quickly installed.
He buckled in my children.
Sophie stirred when he took her from me. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly.
Something hard and rigid lining his muscles as he did.
The gentle actions so at odds with the clear violence I could see pushing at his flesh, muscles bound and nerves on edge.
Those demons on his arms screaming.
The cross crying out.
Once the kids were secured, he placed the baggage into the trunk and then we both climbed into the front seats. I looked back through the window as we pulled away. My grandmother stood in the doorway.
Your gift has come.
Everything tightened.
My heart and my chest and the knots that continually fisted my stomach.
I looked over at Ian.
So gorgeous where he sat at the wheel. So fierce and dominant. The sinister man who oozed sin and seduction who’d come to mean everything.
A hero I’d never expected.
He made a few turns, quickly but safely driving through the city, eyes darting around to take in our surroundings. He continually glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on my children, the girls fast asleep and Thomas sitting there stoic, the way that he did.
Knowing more than I wished he had to.
So brave when the only thing I wanted was for him to get to live his childhood without these overbearing cares and worries.
Ian reached over the console and took my hand.
He squeezed it.
Warmth.
Care.
A quiet hum of need.
Ten minutes later, we broke out of the city. The buildings had grown sparse and the marshlands grew thick as we hit a two-lane road. Random houses surrounded by trees were lit up by porch lights where they were tucked off the country road, the yellow, dotted stripe down the middle of the secluded road our guide as we raced through the night.
I didn’t ask him where we were going.
I trusted him. Trusted him more than I’d ever trusted anyone.
Ian began to slow as we came into a small town, a big painted sign boasting a population of twenty-three hundred that welcomed us to Broadshire Rim.
I’d heard of it, but it was an area I had never visited.
Ian kept our speed slow as we drove through the quaint town. It felt as if we’d been taken back a century. Storefronts lined the main road, different colored awnings stretched out over the sidewalks with parking spaces angled in front.
He squeezed my hand as if he felt all of my questions. “Almost there.”
We took a right and then another onto a dirt road.
The car bounced along the uneven road, the headlights cutting into the night, illuminating another big painted sign on the left.
Broadshire Blooms Bed and Breakfast.
Ian slowed and made a left onto the narrow, tree-lined lane. On either side, mammoth oaks reached for the sky, their old branches stretching out to create a canopy of welcome overhead.
The car rounded a slight curve and a three-story plantation
came into view.
Clearly restored and just as striking as it had to have been back in its original day.
It had two stories of wrap-around porches and massive pillars holding them high, the third-story roof arched in three different areas, like three mountain peaks jutting for the speckled, shimmering sky.
It had to be the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.
Coming to a stop in the rounded drive, Ian stared over at me, emphatic as he said, “You’ll be safe here. These are the best people you’ll ever meet.”
I looked back at the house as one side of the double doors opened. A man who looked so much like Ian stepped out onto the porch. A beautiful, dark-haired woman with a newborn cradled in her arms followed him.
Love and support shone fast in their eyes. Care and concern that flooded through the night.
And I wondered if Ian knew he was a part of that equation.
Because some people came into our lives because they were meant to be.
I squeezed his fingers.
And I knew Ian was always supposed to be a part of mine.
Thirty-One
Ian
I cranked open the door and slipped from my car.
My brother barely lifted his chin at me in a gesture so slight that only I would notice it. His promise that he would always be there for me, no matter what I needed.
Even if it meant dragging his ass out of bed in the middle of the night.
Suffice it to say, he’d thought I was drunk and playing some sort of sick prank when I’d called him on the way to Grace’s and told him to get ready for us.
Three kids in tow.
Not exactly my style.
“Jace,” I said, voice grit, filled with nothing but stark gratitude and the quiet fury I felt at finding Lawrence with Reed. Hating not knowing what was going down, but not fool enough not to realize whatever it was, it was bad.
Lawrence would strike someone down in a blink.
In a flash.
In the second it took to cock a gun.
Two of them together equaled the type of depravity I didn’t want to contemplate.
Jace tried to keep his footsteps light as he bounded down the porch steps. “Ian.”
I rounded the front of my car, and he came right for me, pulling me into a tight hug. He clapped me on the back and muttered at my ear, “You’ve got some explaining to do, brother.”
Obviously.
“Let’s get them settled. Then we can talk.”
Nodding, he stepped back.
Faith, Jace’s wife, slowly came down the stairs, protecting her youngest child against her chest, my sweet niece Bailey Button undoubtedly sleeping and not having the first clue about the inn’s newest guests.
Faith pressed up on her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek. “We’re so glad you came to us.”
I almost laughed. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Who knew what kind of shitstorm I might be dragging into their home.
Turning this old plantation into a bed and breakfast had forever been my brother and his wife’s dream, since they’d first met when we’d moved to this small town when I was sixteen.
Our mama had gotten another wild hair, moving us out of the city and thinking we would actually find a better life. Like she wouldn’t be the same useless mess wherever we went.
We’d only been here for a short time before things had gone south for Jace, but during that time, he’d found his destiny.
His fate that had been stolen from him.
The guy had fought for it until he’d claimed what was always meant to be, even with years of heartache and loss separating the two of them.
I’d call bullshit on the whole happily ever after bit except for the proof of it that was standing right there. Shining from their faces, so real it was impossible to miss.
I moved to Grace’s door and opened it.
I extended my hand to help her out.
A flashfire raced my arm.
Every fucking time.
Every touch.
Every brush.
Nervously, she stood, a little more flustered than I’d ever seen her. “Grace, this is my brother Jace, and his wife, Faith.” My tone was a gentle encouragement.
“Welcome to our home,” Faith said, stepping forward. The girl was all warmth. Oozing comfort.
Grace stepped forward and accepted her embrace, the baby snug between them. “Thank you so much for having us here. I’m so sorry to wake you in the middle of the night.”
Faith giggled a soft sound and bounced Benton. “Oh, not a whole lot of sleep happening around here these days, anyway. This little guy thinks the only time he can sleep is when I’m rocking and pacing with him. Second I put him down, he starts to scream.”
Jace wrapped an arm around his wife and nuzzled his face along her cheek. “My little man has good taste.”
Grace glanced at me for reassurance. No doubt, she’d thought I’d steal them away to somewhere secret and far, where no one could find her. But if anyone would stand up and fight with me for them it was Jace, Mack a phone call away.
Without a doubt, we were going to need those connections.
“Why don’t we get everyone inside so y’all can get some sleep?” Faith offered. “We only have one other guest right now, and he’s checking out in the mornin’, so it’ll just be you and your family staying. My daughter Bailey is going to be beside herself when she finds out she has a friend to play with.”
Faith’s gaze turned to the backseat of the car where Grace’s little girls were conked out, Sophie’s head dropped all the way forward in her car seat and Mallory with her mouth gaping open wide where she was buckled in her booster.
And Thomas.
Thomas was watching us with all that worry and speculation.
My chest tightened.
The kid had had to grow up too fast. Had seen too much. Hated it in a way that few could understand.
My hands fisted with the thought that he’d ever have to endure any of the pain and agony that had been inflicted on me.
Just the thought of someone striking him was more than I could tolerate.
It was instant.
Fury clenching down on my ribs and twisting in my stomach.
It wasn’t going to happen.
I jumped when I felt the hand on my arm. Grace looked up at me, worry swimming in the depths of those teal eyes. “Are you okay?”
Not even close.
I cleared my throat and roughed a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Let’s get them inside.”
“I have all the rooms ready,” Faith said, turning for the porch steps.
Jace went to the trunk and pulled out the bags.
I opened the back door, and Grace leaned in and unbuckled Sophie, shushing her and whispering at her temple when the tiny girl whined in her sleep. “It’s okay, Sophie Marie. Mommy’s got you. Shh.”
That meteor in my throat raced faster.
I moved around the car, opening the other door where Thomas waited like the poor kid didn’t know if he belonged.
I fucking hated that, too.
That he ever had to question who he was. Question his worth.
“Come on, buddy, let’s get inside so you can get some sleep.”
His eyes darted around the property, into the billow and rustle of the leaves of the trees. “Are you sure this is a good place?”
“I’m sure. My brother is the nicest man you’ll ever meet.”
He looked up at me, blinking, his question all too genuine. “Nicer than you?”
The laugh I choked out tasted of bitterness, and I knelt so I could help him gather his charger and tablet that he seemed to cling to like a lifeline. “Yeah, buddy, nicer than me.”
A million miles and a lifetime away. Our paths, which had once seemed linear, diverted. Parting in the middle. Him going one way and me the other.
It pushed at that dirty space that echoed with that hollowed-out vacancy.
Threatening to spill.
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Breaking through the cracks where it was supposed to be bound and subdued.
Fucking Grace. Fucking Grace with her tempting body and her sweet heart and adorable kids.
Whittling their way in where I couldn’t let them.
I swallowed it down and stood.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
Thomas slid out, and when he did, I set my knee on the backseat so I could reach in and unbuckle Mallory, who was pretty much wedged between the two.
God, when I’d purchased my AMG, the last fucking thing I’d pictured was a herd of kids buckled in the backseat.
Never expected for my heart to fucking quiver when I pulled the little girl into my arms.
For everything to rush and expand when she wrapped her tiny ones around my neck and whispered, “Ian-Zian the Great. The most bestest hero in all the land.”
* * *
Faith showed us to our rooms, where she’d given us the four bedrooms that ran the left wing on the second floor of the massive plantation.
I’d told Jace implicitly that Grace and I weren’t together. That she was a client. That we sure as hell wouldn’t be sharing a bed, no matter how goddamned badly I might want to.
He’d instantly caught onto what had felt like a lie grinding through my teeth, the fact that the girl felt like mine. Didn’t change the fact that she couldn’t be.
The kids were tucked into their rooms, and the rest of us stood outside of Grace’s door where she was again profusely thanking Jace and Faith.
Faith touched her arm. “It’s our honor. Now, get some rest. I know it has to have been a long night for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, and Jace sent her a smile. “Good night.”
Faith and Jace stepped out of the hall, leaving me and Grace there alone.
She looked up at me with those trusting eyes.
So bright and beautiful and good.
That feeling stretched tight between us. So intense that I was having a hard time not giving in to the pull.
“Good night, Grace.”
A somber smile pulled at one side of her mouth. “Good night, Ian.”
Stepping back into the room, she snapped the door shut. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to bust it open.
All of Me: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel Page 29
