by Hart, Taylor
Chapter 22
Blaine stared at the ring he’d bought her, his heart racing. She’d still been wearing it. She’d been waiting for him. He cursed and clutched the ring deeper into his hand. Slowly, he closed his eyes. He’d done this. All of it.
He thought about Elena’s face. Thought about how it would have felt to have her end things, then find out she was alive and hadn’t come for him.
Dang it. He stood and roughly cleared the table, throwing the food away and putting dishes in the sink. On autopilot, he cleaned the kitchen. Which was funny in itself. He’d gone back to being so pedantic in less than twenty-four hours.
He’d gone back to sticking to routines.
All he knew, as he scrubbed the kitchen clean, was that he had to keep her safe and he had to win her back somehow. So he needed the routine. When he’d been captured and tormented with his guys, he’d been vigilant about getting up and pumping out his push-ups, about keeping a clear mind and focusing on gratitude. It’d been what had allowed him to focus and come back to her.
Elena was the one who’d given him the strength to get back. When he’d returned and realized she was gone, he’d been broken, lost, drifting in a dark ocean. Through it all, he hadn’t cared about anything. Now, he knew he needed to hold to the patterns that would keep him mentally safe. That would keep her safe.
Usually, the task for a Navy SEAL was much easier in the way of fixing things: do the mission, load the gun, find the enemy. Now, his only mission was her. He would find a way to work things out with her. He would. He had to.
He moved around the townhome, going through the process of making sure it was locked up tight and the alarms were armed. He went to his room, the one right by Elena’s, and pulled up his security feed. He wanted to spy on her, but he quelled the urge, checking every camera except hers.
He tried to distract himself by texting his guys, asking for updates. He needed answers. He needed to know what had happened to her father. He needed to fix something for her.
The team got back to him with a little information. They didn’t have a lead on who had taken him, but they were suspicious that he might have been taken because of a vote taking place in Congress, something about how he could sway the vote in a way some political action committee didn’t want.
He thought about the kidnappers saying they would come back for her. A team had been sent to search her home. They’d reached out to the NYPD to help with surveillance.
Before he climbed into bed, he stared at the ring. He did something he hadn’t done for a long time: he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and thanked God he’d brought him home.
* * *
The next morning, Blaine woke with a start. He squinted at the clock; it was barely six o’clock in the morning. He turned off his alarm, which would have gone off soon, but he heard something in the stillness. Quietly, he pulled the covers from off him and padded toward his door. He heard another sound and realized it was down the hallway.
Opening the door, he caught a glimpse of Elena moving into the extra room he’d had converted into a painting room for her. She didn’t close the door behind her, and he couldn’t stop himself from following her.
Elena stood next to the window. She wore a T-shirt and loose pajama bottoms. She looked so different from how he remembered her. Still the same red hair, but there were no paint sticks holding it up this time, and the bruises on her face were a stark reminder of why they were there.
The room was nice. It faced the ocean, and the floor looked good. There were several blank canvases and paints and materials to mix with. Sutton didn’t mess around, and Blaine was happy that she would have this room.
When her eyes met his, their pain stabbed right into his soul. “Good morning,” he said.
She turned back to the window. “Have you heard anything about my father?”
He didn’t move. “I’m sorry, we haven’t.”
She sucked in a long breath. “I don’t like being confined like this. I need to get back to New York.”
He’d read her file last night. He knew she still owned the gallery. The last thing he’d done the night before the fateful mission was transfer the funds from his account to her. It made him happy to think he might have had a small part in her keeping it. “My team has been working round the clock to figure out who the threat is.”
A slight nod of her head told him she was listening.
He could sense that she wanted him to leave, but he didn’t want to. “Are you going to paint?” he asked softly.
Once again, silence reigned, and it got to the point he didn’t know whether she would answer him or not.
She turned away from the window and meandered in his direction, making sure to give him a wide berth. Their eyes locked, and she looked tired. As she passed him, she said, “I haven’t painted since I got that email.”
Chapter 23
Elena sat on her bed. After taking a venture out to see the paint studio, she realized it would have been really nice if she could use it. She’d seen the shocked look in Blaine’s eyes when she’d told him she didn’t paint any more. It was the truth. In order to keep the gallery, she’d gone into “management mode,” as Marissa called it, and she’d begun organizing more events.
The change had actually brought her and her father together in the past few months. He’d helped her reach out to people, and she’d been able to create steady bookings. She mixed local artists with some premiere speakers and political events that came to New York. It was a lot of work, but she was proud of the fact she kept the business afloat on her own and had some padding for the mortgage.
It was the only way she could keep the gallery. The real truth was that there was nothing inside of her to paint. Her father had commented on it. Antonio had tried to press her about it, but she’d been empty. A mere shell walking around.
Closing her eyes, she remembered the first night, eating pancakes with him. She remembered how she’d felt when he’d proposed. She remembered being so in love with him. It was painful. It’d been painful then because she’d known he would be leaving her, but it’d been endurable because she’d known, every part of her had known, he would come back to her.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Elena, look. I know you don’t want to come out and take meals with me, but you know you need to eat. You need to.”
She sighed and stood. He was right. She felt better today, but she was hungry. She opened the door to find Blaine holding a tray. “I’ll come to the kitchen,” she said.
Blaine gave her a sweeping look, and she knew he was evaluating her, but not the same way Antonio did. No, Blaine had always noticed all the details. That was part of him.
She remembered the first time he’d held her hand and told her that her fingers were graceful. It’d been the first time she’d thought about the way her fingers looked. “I can carry the food.” She didn’t need him babying her, caring for her. She might have to be locked away, but she wouldn’t let him take care of her.
He passed the tray to her, wearing his SEAL face. Blank. Soldierly. “Fine.”
The tray was heavier than she’d anticipated, but she took it and carefully went down the stairs. When she got to the kitchen, she put the food down on the table and sat.
Blaine had food in his spot too. Clearly, he hadn’t eaten yet. He sat as well.
Ignoring that he bowed his head to say a prayer, she took a bite of the scrambled eggs he’d made. Unable to stop herself, she let out a little moan. He made the best food.
He watched her. When she met his eyes, he smiled. “I’m glad to see you like it.”
Dang it, she didn’t want to betray that. She didn’t respond, but ate up every bite of food on her plate. Miraculously, the food all tasted good. The little dish of peaches, the toast. It was just what she needed.
Blaine finished before her, but didn’t move, only watched her in satisfaction.
She bristled under his attention. “Have you heard anything else about my fa
ther?”
Blaine swallowed and stood, picking up his plate. “My team has swept your place in New York and found nothing. They’re still looking into everything your father was working on, but nothing new. I’m sorry.” He went to the sink and quickly washed his dishes.
When he returned to pick up her tray, Elena waved a hand at him. “I’ll do it,” she told him.
Blaine stayed in the kitchen. When she’d finished washing her dishes, she noticed that he had his phone out and seemed distracted. “Dang.”
“What?” she asked.
His whole face scrunched up and he pulled his phone closer. “I have my phone connected to all the cameras, so I can scroll through them anytime. I can’t decide if this guy who’s been walking up and down the beach this morning was there last night too.”
She knew they were on high alert, but this was a tourist destination. If she had a home in the area, she’d probably walk up and down the beach every day too. “Okay.”
Blaine glanced up at her. He rushed to the stairs. “I gotta check some stuff.”
Elena forced herself to relax. Blaine was right: she needed nutritious food to think clearly. Even though she worried for her father, she didn’t feel worried about her safety at all. Not with Blaine here. Even though Blaine was obviously the best of the best, she needed to be able to help, to be alert.
She hadn’t really looked around yesterday, just relegated herself to her room. The living room was nice, its walls bright and colorful in red and aqua blue. The couch was white, and the pillows were all different colors. There was a leather chair, a white rug, and a coffee table with various art magazines that looked appealing.
She inspected the coffee table. She thought of the room that had been converted into an art studio for her, and these magazines. Blaine had tried to make her comfortable.
Elena shook her head and went to the front window. She knew the window was bulletproof and tinted so no one could see in. She stared across the street and looked for any suspicious guy that Blaine could be talking about.
No one. Just families. There was a little girl in a white hat and a pink polka-dot swimsuit. The girl had red hair, the same color as Elena’s.
She found herself smiling at the little girl. Of course, the girl couldn’t see her, but Elena giggled when she saw the girl’s little brother put the bucket of water over her head. She pressed her hand to her mouth and giggled again when the little girl picked up a handful of sand and threw it back.
She could feel Blaine standing quietly beside her. “You shouldn’t do that,” she said, looking over at him.
He was staring at her. They felt close, too close. She stepped back.
“It’s nice to see you smile.” He let out a breath. “I’ve missed that.”
Nervous butterflies swooped through her gut.
“Why did you get engaged to Antonio in the first place? I know I don’t deserve an answer, but I can’t help but wonder.”
Weighing whether she wanted to tell or not, she found she did. “I never should have agreed to marry him.”
“Yeah. Why did you?” There was anger behind his eyes, tension in his posture.
“Because I thought I had found the man I loved. I had even agreed to marry him in a Chapel of Love, but he broke my heart.” She sputtered, and tears formed in her eyes. “And for a while, I was broken.”
He swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Jules.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
“I am sorry.”
She put up her hand. “It’s fine, because even though it took me a while to find my strength again, I did discover one important thing.”
Blaine frowned. “What’s that?”
“Mind you,” she pointed at Blaine. “I didn’t do this for you, but … I did discover, God is there. And He does help you when you ask him. And one night I asked Him if I should marry Antonio, and I knew it wasn’t right.” Turning away from him, she wiped at the traitorous tears. “I sold the gallery, too.”
“What?”
“I realized I was holding on to that for my mother, but I don’t need a gallery.” She pointed to her chest. “I have her right here. I just barely found a buyer, and I guess I owe that to you too.” She smiled. “Your boss finalized it last night. I guess he likes fine art.”
Blaine cursed, then let out a laugh. “Suttone?”
She nodded.
Blaine shook his head. “Can you just forgive me? Can we just start over?”
Her heart was too broken. She turned away from him and was about to climb the stairs and go back to her room. “I need time, Blaine.”
“Okay. Wait! I need you to listen for a moment about something else.”
She paused. For a moment, he held her gaze, and her heart fluttered. Could they just start over?
He turned his attention to his phone. “I’ve been checking my footage, and there is a guy that keeps circling. I don’t know what his story is, but I gotta go out there and check it out.”
She bit back her worry. “Okay.”
Blaine held out her new phone and tapped some buttons. “I just installed the app for the cameras. This is the farthest one, the beach. This is the one on the street. The north side, the south side. The front of the house. This is right by the front door.” The back door.” He paused and gave her a severe look. “I’m going to run down the beach. I don’t think it’s dangerous, but under no circumstances can you open the door. Either of them. Under no circumstances do you leave this house. If I’m not back in an hour, you call Sutton.” He flipped to Sutton’s contact. “I added him to your phone.”
Elena’s heart raced at the intensity of his words. “Okay.” She wanted to tell him not to leave, that she didn’t want to be without him here.
Blaine ran a hand over his face. “I mean it, Elena. Do not follow me. Do not go out there.”
She licked her lips and clutching the phone. “Okay.”
Blaine moved to the front door. “Lock all of these after I leave, and when I knock five times, check your camera before you open up.” He slipped out the door.
Elena moved to the front window, watching Blaine take off into a jog. He was wearing gym shoes, cargo shorts, and an Under Armour shirt. It wasn’t like he was really in running clothes, but it didn’t look odd for him to be running either. Again, she noted that he had lost weight. His face looked a bit hollow around the eyes. She thought about how she wanted to touch his face, wanted to cradle it in her hands and feel all of the differences between then and now. She pushed those feelings away.
He looked better after cleaning up last night. But had he ever been her Blaine? Had she ever really known him? By all counts, he acted like nothing had changed for him. Pain surged within her, and shame. She’d been wrecked by him leaving her. How stupid was that? She felt so weak that he’d been able to have that effect on her.
He disappeared down the beach, and her stomach crawled with nerves. She didn’t like him being gone.
Wandering up the stairs, Elena found herself doing what she’d told Blaine she hadn’t done since he’d left. She put a canvas on the center wall by the window. She found a bucket, and she took it to the hall bath and filled it with water. She paused in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The bruises around her eyes had darkened to an ugly yellow.
Moving back to the paint room, she scoured the supplies, finding aqua blue and some greens, ocean colors. As she stared at the canvas, all she could think of was the last painting she’d done. The one of him. The one she’d destroyed. When she’d gotten that email, she’d wanted to die herself.
She shook her head and focused on this canvas, on the ocean and the sand in front of her. That’s where she started, with the ocean. When she painted, it was like she could feel her medium. She got lost in the waves.
Her mind flitted back to Blaine. Had he really been in that much pain when he’d come back and thought she was married?
The past month, all the pain had turned to rage that he could toss her aside
so easily. As she let herself go in the waves she was painting, he became clearer. The man with the beard, the man who was barely surviving. The one with wrinkles around his eyes and a hollow look.
She remembered the way he’d kissed her yesterday, like he needed her. Dang. The man was beautiful. Tears sprang to her eyes. She’d missed him. She’d missed him so much.
* * *
Elena didn’t know how much time had passed when she was jolted out of her painting by a knock at the door.
She dunked her hands into the bucket and looked around for a towel. She should have thought about a towel. She saw a bag of rags and ripped it open.
More knocking.
Hesitating, she picked up her phone and scrolled to the camera by the door just as Blaine had told her to do. She rushed down the steps.
The knocking grew louder, more insistent.
She got to the front door, but abruptly stopped. The man in the camera was someone she didn’t know. Her heart rate spiked. She couldn’t answer it.
“He’s hurt!” the man shouted, making her jump. “He said to come get you. Your friend is hurt.”
Elena’s hand trembled. She moved to Sutton’s phone number and was about to call him.
“Elena, Blaine is hurt down on the beach. I’m part of his team. Open the door, fast.”
His name. How would he know Blaine’s name? And what if he was hurt? Uncertainly, she began moving the locks.
More pounding. “Open the door!”
She pulled the door back just in time to see something come down hard on the guy’s head. The guy slumped, and Blaine caught him under the arms, holding his gun.
Blaine’s glare was fierce. “I told you not to open the door.” He pushed past Elena, hauling the body with him. “I told you not to open that door under any circumstances!”
She was flustered. “He knew your name. He said he was part of your team and that you were hurt.”
