by Karen Cimms
He pulled his hands away and put some distance between them. “This is hard for me. I never wanted you to know what a shithole I came from.”
He looked so broken and raw. She wanted to tell him to stop, that he didn’t need to dredge up the past, but after burying her own for so long, wasn’t this exactly what they needed?
She pressed her hands against the tops of his thighs, needing to keep the connection between them as strong as possible. “It doesn’t matter where you came from. What matters is who you are.”
His snort told her he didn’t believe her. “One of the last times my mother was able to con my grandmother into letting her stay, she invited a couple of friends over. They were just like her—barflies looking for a good time. I was around fourteen. Gram went on a church retreat, and my mom, thinking she couldn’t leave me alone or something, had her friends come over to party with her at the house. They were drinking and smoking pot. They even had some coke. Being the generous mother she was, she let me join them. She’d started partying long before her girlfriends arrived, so she passed out pretty early. Her one friend took off, which left me and Janelle.”
She had a sick feeling she knew where this was going. “You don’t have to finish,” she croaked.
“I want to get this over with.”
He stared at his hands as he spoke.
“Janelle was in her early thirties, I guess. Nice-looking. Anyway, she came on to me pretty heavy. And me? My brains were in my dick, what can I say? It wasn’t just that night, either.” He hesitated. “After that, I’d ride my bike over to her house and go in through the back door so no one would see me. It went on for a few months. At the time, I thought I was pretty freaking lucky. I know it was wrong, but for what it’s worth, she taught me an awful lot.”
“Lucky? It was rape.”
“Probably. I was a willing participant, though.”
“What if that had been our son?”
He shifted against the leather sofa. “I would’ve killed the bitch.”
“Well,” she said, trying to dispel some of the tension and sadness hanging over them, “my big sex revelation is that Digger Johnson squeezed my boob in the car after prom and then tried to slide his hand under my gown. I started crying, and he took me home.”
“And for that alone, I wanna beat the shit out of him.”
She knew he meant it. “Well, don’t.”
He smiled for the first time that day, but she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t take a swing at Digger, given the chance.
“Go on if, there’s more,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Over the years, because of what happened the night Devin was born . . .”
She tried not to react, but it was impossible. Invisible fingers wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Pain was her old friend, but now anger jockeyed for position. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but Billy was quicker. He grasped her hands and held on tightly.
“I always felt guilty. Not a day went by I didn’t think of that. For years, it haunted me. I tried to bury those feelings—drinking, drugs, anything to dull that ache. I can’t say I wouldn’t have touched any of that if that hadn’t happened—my history goes way back—but I know it made it worse. Some days it felt as if that guilt might eat me alive.”
Each tear that trickled down his beautiful face touched her heart and diluted her anger. They had both suffered; both been broken long before they’d even met. And those old wounds had caused them to hurt each other. But no more; it was long past time to heal.
She moved closer and touched the palm of her hand to his cheek. She brushed a tear away with her thumb. “Lie down and close your eyes.”
He didn’t resist. Tension and pain lined his face. She dusted his eyelids with the tips of her fingers. She traced the faded scar through his eyebrow, the one he’d gotten from his father, and then the one below his eye, the one from the fight with Pete, his old partner. With both hands, she reached behind his ears and gently rubbed the base of his skull and his neck. When she found the two-inch thread of raised scar tissue behind his ear, she focused on that, lightly stroking the reminder of a brutal beating at the hands of his father.
She held her right hand over his heart, absorbing the beat beneath her palm. Then she slid both hands over his chest and ribs, knowing some of those ribs had been broken. She pressed a kiss into the soft, pale skin at the crease of each arm, paying particular attention to a large blue vein, the one that had likely carried the poison he’d injected into his body. A tear of her own landed on that soft, vulnerable spot.
When she sat up, he was watching her. She ran her hands over his left leg, the one his father had caused him to break.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not sure.” Her voice was as soft as her touch. “I think I’m trying to take away your pain.”
The clock on the mantel ticked. The fire crackled. Like a healer, she kept touching him, stroking his long-ago injuries until the rhythmic sound of his breathing told her he had relaxed into sleep. She covered him with the quilt and with the fire dying behind her, studied the face of the man she’d loved most of her life.
There was no reason to drag this out any longer. If her head had been clear all those months ago, she would have known it then. The answer had been with her all along.
She spread the embers in the fireplace, replaced the screen, and climbed the stairs. Despite her exhaustion, she stepped into the shower, hoping it would relieve not only the chill in her body, but her troubled mind. With her head resting on the wall of the shower and the hot water beating on her neck, she pictured the tension seeping out through her pores and running down the drain around her feet. She let the water wash away all of her thoughts until there was nothing but the sound of the water pounding in her ears—until the scrape of the shower curtain rings against the rod jarred her back to the present.
Her hands couldn’t possibly cover all the parts of her that were exposed, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “Billy! What are you doing?”
He blinked, his eyes swollen and sleepy. “I love you, Katie. I’ve loved you forever. Since the first time I saw you. And when I touched you, when I asked you to dance, I knew it was true. I knew it the same way I know that when that crazy grandfather clock chimes, it’s chiming in the key of D. I knew before I met you that there would be one great love in my life. And there you were.”
He stepped into the shower, the water soaking into his shirt and jeans.
“I’ve failed you miserably, and I’m sorry. If I could go back and fix it, I would. All the way back, back to the time you were that scared little girl in flannel nightgowns with dragons to fight. I would’ve stood next to your bed and fought my way into your dreams to keep them away. And when I saw how you were treated, that your parents didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved, I would’ve taken you away back then. Even if I was only nine or ten years old, I would’ve carried you away, and we would’ve lived in a treehouse if we had to. I loved you even then, before I knew you, and I would’ve protected you with my life.”
She balled up her fist and pressed it against her mouth to keep the sob wedged in her throat from escaping.
His fingers dug into her shoulders. “So many of the horrible things you’ve been through, they’re not your fault. They’re mine. If I’d been honest with you in the beginning about my mother, she could never have blackmailed me, and I would never have given her all that money, and you would never have felt you needed to go to work. See, it’s my fault you were at that meeting. I didn’t protect you the way I’d promised. You didn’t feel secure, and that’s my fault. I know that now, and I don’t want you to blame yourself. Let me take that burden from you.” His grip tightened and his voice grew thick with emotion. “And what happened with Christa? That was one ugly, stupid, drunken mistake that I will regret all the days of my life. Let me love you. Let me make it right. I’m begging you to forgive me. Let me back into your heart. I promise I will never hurt you again.
I’ve loved you forever, Katie, and I will always love you.”
The water beat against his chest as the steam embraced them. The air was so heavy she couldn’t seem to draw it into her lungs.
“I love you,” she whispered.
His eyes softened. “But?”
“But nothing.” She rested her hands on his chest. “I love you. Even when I should’ve hated you, I loved you.”
A flicker of hope shot through the pain reflected in his blue-gray irises. “What’re you saying, Katie?”
She gripped his wet T-shirt in her hands. “I’m saying you’re my husband and I’m your wife, and that’s the way I want it to stay. I’m saying I love you, Billy. I’m saying I want to be married to you, that I’m committed to you.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He trailed his nose over her temple and along the sweep of her jaw.
“No, not that.”
“You’re my husband?” Despite the hot water raining down upon them, goosebumps prickled her arms and over her bare chest.
“Unh-uh.” He slid his teeth down the column of her neck, and her knees threatened to give way.
“I want to be your wife?”
He kissed his way along her collarbone. “Say it again.”
“I want to be your wife.”
He eased her against the wall of the shower as his lips ghosted over her throat, her neck, her chin.
“Say it again.” He nibbled on her bottom lip.
“I want to be your wi—” She might have sighed. Or maybe she moaned. Whatever sound she had made was swallowed up when Billy’s mouth covered hers. His hand cradled the back of her head, while the other pulled her so close her breasts crushed against his chest and the tab of his zipper dug into her belly.
She lifted the hem of his sopping-wet shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, then tugged at the zipper.
“Wait,” he said, breaking the kiss but still so close his breath caressed her lips. “So this is real? I need to know, Katie. I can’t lose you again. Don’t do this and then tell me you’re not sure. Please. I’m begging you, be sure.”
“I’m sure.” She slipped her fingers around his neck. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”
He pulled away just long enough to reach back and tug his shirt over his head. It landed on the floor of the tub with a splat. It took a bit of effort, but he stripped off his jeans, turned off the shower, and wrapped a large towel around the two of them. Once she was caught up in his arms, he kissed her again. A flame ignited in her chest, flaring up and spreading warmth throughout her body, even as the towel cascaded down around their feet.
With his arms circling her waist, he lifted her up and carried her across the hall into her bedroom, where he gently lowered her onto the bed.
“I need to be inside you, Katie,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “I need to feel you tighten around me. I need to feel you melt into me until we’re breathing the same air, until our hearts are beating to the same rhythm, until we are so entangled in one another there won’t be anything strong enough to tear us apart again.”
“I promise,” she whispered, weaving her fingers through his hair. “Nothing will come between us again. Ever.”
Hours later, Kate felt Billy’s weight settle on her in the dark. Warm, comfortable weight. His lips kissed a trail up her neck. She was too tired to open her eyes, but she yielded to the pure deliciousness of having him back in her bed.
“Again?” she murmured against the shell of his ear.
“Again.” His lips brushed her cheek. “And again.” He breathed into her mouth. “And again.” He kissed her deeply. “And again until we make up for all that we lost. And then again, because I never want to let you go. You are all I’ll ever need. All I ever wanted.”
Chapter Forty-Six
“Man, oh man.” Billy stretched out the kinks in his back and a cramp in his right calf. “I am not twenty-five anymore.”
It was disappointing to wake up alone, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and something equally as promising wafting in from the kitchen hurried him from Kate’s warm bed. He slipped into a T-shirt and his last pair of dry jeans and headed for the kitchen, where he found Kate wearing his old chambray shirt and very likely nothing else. Canadian bacon sizzled while eggs poached in a shallow pan of boiling water. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched contentedly.
She saw him as she reached to take the English muffins from the toaster. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “How’re you feeling?”
She smiled wickedly. “Like an eighteen-year-old virgin holed up with a rock star in a cheap motel. You?”
“Like an aging rock star holed up with a hot eighteen-year-old.”
He bent down and nibbled at her lips, his hand sliding under the hem of the shirt and running over her bare bottom.
“I thought so.” He forced a frown. “Does the board of health know you cook bottomless?”
She batted her eyes. “How do you think I pass inspection?”
He gave her ass a quick squeeze. “I rolled over and reached for you, and you were gone.”
“I was there the other three times, wasn’t I?”
“You sure as hell were.” He pulled a stool out and sat at the counter. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Eggs Benedict. I was going to serve you breakfast in bed, but maybe it’s good you got up.”
“I can go back.” He gave her a look he hoped conveyed what would happen if they went back to bed.
She waved her spatula. “Too late. You want to eat before you do your karate thing or after?”
He chuckled. “Tai kwon do. And usually I eat after, but I won’t make you wait.”
She gave the hollandaise a final stir, arranged the eggs on two plates, and carried them to the dining room table.
“It’s cold today,” he said as he took a seat. “I was looking for my shirt, but I see you found it.”
She smiled coyly and started to unbutton it. “You want it back?”
“Not if you want to eat your breakfast.”
She dropped into her seat. “Looks like summer’s finally over. It’s in the low forties, and it’s supposed to dip below freezing tonight.” She pressed a bare leg against his. “We can go shopping later if you’d like and get you some warmer clothes.”
“What’s the point? We’ll be heading home soon, right?”
Kate’s fork froze in midair. She shook her head and his heart thudded to a stop.
“You said you were sure about us.”
“I am.” She set the fork down. “But I don’t want to go back.”
The blissful mood he’d awoken in disappeared along with his appetite. “I thought—”
“You can move here. Live here with me.”
“I assumed you’d be coming home.”
The look on her face made him afraid of what she might say next.
“You assumed wrong. I’m yours, Billy, but I’m not going back.”
The knot in his belly began to loosen. “I guess I didn’t think about not going home. But we can’t live here. I’m guessing this is Tommy’s house. The fact that he’s let you stay this long is above and beyond, but I’m sure the money I’ve been giving him doesn’t come anywhere near covering the expenses on this place.”
“What are you talking about? What money?”
“C’mon, babe. How do you think you’ve been living all this time? I’ve been giving him money every month since you left.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“He didn’t want it, but I insisted, so he finally took it.”
She sighed. “Oh, jeez.”
“What?”
“Finish your breakfast. Then we’ll talk.”
He pushed his plate away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
She pushed it back. “It’s okay. It’ll just be easier when you don’t have food in your mouth.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Trust me. Finish eating, and we’ll talk.”
As much as he loved eggs Benedict, they’d already formed a lump in his stomach. Trying to finish the rest wasn’t helping. When he’d swallowed all he could choke down, she poured them each another cup of coffee and returned to her seat. She toyed with her spoon, looking several times as if she were about to speak, but would stop and stare out the window.
“Whatever it is, just say it, Katie. Nothing can be as bad as what we’ve already been through.”
“It’s not bad.” She took a sip of her coffee, then set the cup down on the table and sat up straight. “The house? It’s mine. The house, the car, the boats.”
“Boats?”
“Not big boats. Little boats. You know, kayaks and stuff.”
She was kidding, right? “Oh. Well. Little boats.”
She met his sarcasm with a frown.
“I’m not following you.”
“Let me start again.” She faced him head on as if that might make what she was saying easier to understand. “Joey left me everything.”
That made sense. “So this was Joey’s house?”
“No, not really.”
“Katie.”
Her forehead puckered. “I’m not sure how it works, but the house is mine. Apparently, it always was mine, or maybe it belongs to some corporation I own.”
His eyebrows might have just skimmed his hairline. “You own a corporation?”
She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “I guess. Tommy explained it to me, but it’s confusing. A couple of years ago, Joey bought this house for me. He wanted me to have a place of my own.”
Still sticking it to me from beyond the grave, huh, Joey? “So you owned a house in Maine and never mentioned it?”
“I didn’t know until after he died, and I just couldn’t process it at the time. Tom tried to tell me about Joey’s will when I first came home from New York, but I didn’t want to hear it. Not then. So he let it go. Then after I was in the hospital, I was so angry with Rhiannon—and with you.”
