“So what does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want it to. I told you how I feel—no, I told the entire Internet how I feel. I need you in my life. That’s pretty much it. The rest is up to you.”
Up to her. Well, that made her feel incredibly in control. “Okay, then.”
Roger coughed. “Except.” He paused.
Caroline wrapped her arms over his shoulder and clasped her fingers together. “Except what? Whatever it is, we’re not doing it here.”
He grinned, a full dimpled heart-stopping grin. “I like the way your mind works, but I was going a little deeper. I need you in my life, and I mean that. But I’m not going to lie. I want all of you, Caro. I even want the piece you left over there in a little town called Teslehad on the other side of the world.”
She swallowed. “What are you saying?”
He thumbed her cheeks. “You have to go back over there and get that piece back, honey. You’ll never get past it until you face it.”
What? “Oh, hell no. I am definitely not doing that again.”
She shoved against his chest. Roger’s words echoed through her head, but she ignored them—in fact, all she heard was a thundering roar. Of gunfire and children’s voices. She slammed her hands over her ears. “No. No. No.”
Caroline flung the door open and raced to the elevator, and Roger followed her inside. He held her arms, but she pulled away. He groaned. “Come on, Caroline. You know it has to happen. You’ll never get past it and be yourself if you don’t go back.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Caroline watched the rearview mirror, barely registering the road ahead. His silhouette, standing at the curb, gradually receded as the knot in her stomach grew. How could he possibly ask her to give up everything she’d worked for to go back there?
She’d finally attained some stability in her life, and he wanted her to throw it away? It was crazy. It was irresponsible. It was ... tempting.
No. Scratch that idea—it was crazy. Yep, dumbest idea ever. Caroline turned her concentration to the road. She pressed the gas, feeling the engine kick, and noted the intersection ahead. Where should she go?
Glancing at her choices, each of them took her farther from Roger and away from potential drama. That was good, right? The car rolled to a reluctant stop, and the engine idled in bursts. She searched the rearview mirror for images of his building, but bushes, trees, and cars swallowed her view. Perhaps the chugging engine was prodding her to stop.
Caroline thrust the car in park and pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. He needed me. What was that supposed to mean? She had no idea. She’d never needed anyone in her life, except her mother—and she’d left. Hell, everyone in her life had left her at some point. Her father, Roger, and every man she’d ever dated since. Okay, technically she’d left Roger before he had the chance, and her mother hadn’t left—she’d died, but that was still leaving, wasn’t it?
That was what people did. They left. They moved on with their lives, leaving her with the painful burden of their absence.
The horn of a car behind her honked. Still unsure where to go, she pulled forward and looped into a parking spot. Once the other vehicle had passed, she started driving back down the street.
He needed me—no, that’s not how he said it. He said he needs me. Now, not then. Would he still feel that way in a month?
Wait. She flipped the rearview mirror to check her eyes and wipe away the water that puddled and smeared her makeup. Reality check, woman. What he needed wasn’t the issue. Nor did it matter what he’d feel in a month or a year.
The tires crunched on broken concrete as her car rolled toward his building. Roger sat on a bench, his hands draped over his knees and head bent. He lifted his head and met her eyes through the windshield.
Caroline drank him in, swallowed her fear, and stepped from the car. Another horn honked as a car whizzed by, nearly grazing her hip.
Time stood still. “What’s wrong? You forget something?” There was a glint of hope in his chocolate eyes.
She focused on that and moved toward him, then plopped to his side on the bench. “No, I wanted to say something.”
He stared at his feet. “Caro. Let’s not draw this out—at least when you left before, there was a note. It was done. You didn’t have to say goodbye. The only thing I had trouble with was the fact that you had no problem leaving, that I didn’t matter. Now, you leave again, and—”
“Stop talking, please. It wasn’t that you didn’t matter. Back then, I had to go—you know that. Don’t you remember what you said? People need three things in life, the most important of which is a passion—a purpose.”
Finally, he lifted his eyes and focused on her. “I said that?”
She nodded. “But you were wrong. Yeah, I know, amazing—don’t snicker.”
“I wasn’t snickering.”
“You snickered. Like it or not, you’ve turned into a good guy, Roger. Don’t get all excited about it ... and don’t think you’ll always be right, because you won’t. The third thing isn’t a purpose or passion. The purpose I can live without. I got all the way down to the end of the street and sat there. For the life of me, I had no idea where I was going. I knew where I lived, where I worked, where I thought I belonged. But I had a huge problem with leaving you. I’d already done it once and I ... just ... couldn’t. Then I realized why. I don’t really need to go fricking find myself.”
They focused on each other’s faces, and she saw moisture in his eyes. That was new. He blinked. “Okkaay.”
“So, here’s the deal. I need you, too. Sure, I love you, but that’s not the problem.” He cocked a hopeful brow, and she saw a flicker of movement in the dimples. She stroked a finger along the lines of his face.
“Does that mean you’re going over there and then coming back to me?” He shuffled his legs around and slid a knee behind her on the bench.
“It means you’re wrong.”
He frowned.
“That third thing that people must have in life is to be loved—and needed.”
He nodded and pulled her in tight. He lifted her legs over his then wrapped her in a hug. For the first time ever, she knew exactly where her place in life was—and is.
“Okay, this time, I guess I can be wrong. I love you, Caroline.”
She lifted both hands to his cheeks and moved to touch their noses together. “I love you too. Isn’t it cool?”
His shoulders moved a tad, and his dimples twitched as if afraid to show themselves. “But ... ”
Uh oh. There was more? “But what?”
“But let’s not completely rule out that passion thing, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“It means you were meant to be a journalist, gorgeous. You have to go back over there and write the real story.”
What the hell was he talking about? She had written the story. It was horrible—and she knew because the nightmares reminded her constantly. “I am never going back.”
He put his thick, warm fingers over hers. “You are—and I’m going with you. You’re going to write a different story. I’ll be right there. We’ll give those kids a proper ending to show their lives mattered. To show who loved and needed them.”
She shuddered. “No.”
“Yes.”
“It’s over.”
He tapped her forehead. “Not up here, it isn’t.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he brought the fingers down to her lips. She stopped.
“Caro, you need the happy ending. For all your strength and toughness, that’s your thing. People love it, too—it’s inspiring. Hell, who doesn’t want the fairytale? Let’s go over there and get one. You and me. Damn everything else to hell. We deserve ours, and you’re going to write about it—our happy ending. Theirs, too.”
“Your family needs you.”
“I’ve been here for them most of my life. They can take care of themselves for a change. Let’s focus on that third thing�
�let’s focus on us. Okay?” He bent to kiss her, gentle and soft, and gave her a squeeze.
Us. She’d never been part of any us before—she liked the way it rolled off his tongue. She liked the warm cozy way it felt. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Us. Yes. Definitely okay.”
About the Author
Shelley K. Wall was born near Kansas City, the middle daughter of three. She is a graduate of Oklahoma State University with additional postgraduate work there and at the University of Wyoming extension in Casper. She worked for many years in Information Technologies as a Network Engineer, a Project Manager, Operations Director, and I.T. Department Head. In addition to her writing efforts, she continues to maintain her technical certifications in various technologies and consults regularly on projects. After writing numerous Project Plans, I.T. Directives, Budgets, Personnel Evaluations, and Strategic Plans, she found fiction to be thoroughly refreshing and a wonderful creative outlet.
She is a member of Romance Writers of America,Sisters In Crime (SinC), the Houston Literary Guild, and various technical organizations.She writes daily and speaks on subjects pertaining to authorship and fiction writing.
Her first release, Numbers Never Lie, debuted in 2012 and was an Amazon Daily Deal in January. It soared to number three for romantic suspense, eight for contemporary romance, and seventeen in overall romance on the Amazon Bestsellers List. She has since written over a dozen more novels of contemporary romance or romantic suspense.
Website: http://shelleykwall.com
Blog: http://shelleykwall.wordpress.com
Twitter: @skwallbooks
More from This Author
(From Find Me by Shelley K. Wall)
Amanda Gillespie wasn’t about to let the bile in her stomach keep her from showing up at the damn outdoor adventure club meeting. It was just nerves. She could do this. Had to do this, since she’d stupidly, irresponsibly taken her friend Darlene’s bet that she wouldn’t. Now five hundred bucks hung in the balance.
She smoothed her skirt and shoved through the door of the beautiful eighty-story Darshwin Tower, wishing she’d gone home to change clothes after work. But that would have made her late to the meeting, and there was no way in hell Darlene was going to give her peace if that happened.
Darlene Fitch was a bulldog both in reputation and stature. Though small, her mind was a flytrap of details that made her one of the best criminal attorneys in the state of Texas. Amanda strived to be half as good. Darlene had a ten-year start on her, so maybe in time she’d get there. The woman was also faultlessly protective of her friends—not in a motherly way, but in an in-your-face, don’t-fuck-with-my-friend way.
Why Darlene had turned Amanda into a pet project was a mystery.
“You’re such a workaholic pansy. Just enjoy yourself—have fun for a change,” Darlene had tossed at her after they’d finished eating lunch over legal briefs a week earlier.
“I am not. I have fun.”
“Really? Prove it. When’s the last time you did anything that didn’t have a roof and an air conditioner involved? Or traded those heels for a pair of sneakers, for that matter?”
Amanda sighed. “Okay, so maybe I prefer to be clean and … and I have allergies.”
Darlene rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. To what? A good time? Amanda Gillespie, we’re going to get your blood pumping if it kills us. Or maybe just you. I’m too young to die. Besides, how are you ever going to date someone who doesn’t have their nose in legal briefs if you don’t leave the office?”
“Maybe I like briefs.”
Darlene giggled. “I like briefs too—or boxers—or nothing at all. They’re all good. Listen, we all know you can kick ass as a lawyer but can you do it outside in the fresh air? I highly doubt it. I think you’re a born and bred book-addicted nerd.”
That was the challenge that took her over the top. Competitiveness was bred deep in the Gillespie family and challenges of any sort rarely went unanswered. That was what happened when you grew up in a household with two older brothers. Everything was a contest. Amanda took the bait, and agreed to Darlene’s bet proposal: Whoever did better on two out of the three challenges would win. Now she was regretting it.
Amanda clip-clopped on high heels toward the elevator bank and her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display, then snapped it to her ear. “What? You’re checking up on me? I’m at the elevator, Give me five minutes.”
Darlene laughed. “Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck …”
Is she really insinuating I’m chicken? “Oh, stop. I’ll be there before you can find your next client.”
Sure, it was a jab to mention Darlene’s ambulance chasing but the woman actually admitted to perusing the daily paper for victims. Er, clients. Amanda strung the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder and sandwiched the phone above it between her ear and the shoulder pad of her suit. With her other hand, she unknotted her scarf, slipped two buttons of her silk shirt open, and let out a sigh. “You could have picked something a little closer to the office, you know. I had to practically jog in these damned heels. I think I have a blister.”
“You should carry loafers like I do. Hurry up. The instructor is tall, tanned, and tight-ass free, something we rarely meet … uh, oh. I think he heard me. Gotta go.”
Amanda grinned as the phone went silent. For a woman with a stellar legal career, Darlene despised attorneys—a.k.a. tight-asses—and had a strict rule about dating them. The irony of her choosing not to date someone of her own species apparently escaped her brilliant brain. But, based on the few single attorneys Amanda knew, Darlene wasn’t all wrong.
Amanda punched the elevator button and stepped into the first one that opened. Five hundred bucks was a lot of money, and she planned to win. Neither of the women was athletic, but Amanda was pretty sure she could handle herself well enough to best her friend. Betting she could beat Darlene in a couple of outdoor activities seemed an easy win.
• • •
For Jackson Holstenar, the elevator was a fundamental part of life. It was how he traveled to the gym on the top floor of the building, to his friend Carter’s office, to his father’s office, to his own office. Though his berth could hardly be called an office. His choice. His father wanted him upstairs with the bigwigs, but Jackson preferred to pay his dues like all the other new staff.
He waited for the doors to open. Carter had wanted to talk about his new project before the weekend adventure seekers group. Ever since Jackson had accidently gotten Carter fired, he felt guilty and listened patiently to Carter’s work stories. The firing had been unintentional—Jackson had mouthed off at a project manager because he and their friend Roger wanted to set them up. She hadn’t liked the comments and blew a gasket before complaining to Carter’s management team. Carter had taken the heat because Jackson’s dad just ignored the complaint. Carter’s new job seemed to fit better, so it wasn’t a complete loss.
Jackson’s phone signaled a text message from Carter. Let’s just talk after the group meeting. I’m already there.
Ding.
The doors slipped open. He smelled oranges. That brought back memories. He glanced over at the tall blonde with her hair sleeked into a gold barrette. Was he hallucinating? It had been eighteen months since he’d seen Amanda Gillespie. He stuck an arm out as the doors started closing, then stepped into the elevator. No, it was her.
Could he really have missed her annoying perfume?
“Amanda?”
The woman in the peach twill suit stopped fumbling with her bag and popped her head up, her sea-blue eyes widening like portholes on a Caribbean cruise ship.
“Oh my God. Jackson! What are you doing here?”
His throat threatened to choke back his words and he swallowed. “I’m meeting a friend in a few minutes upstairs. What about you?”
Amanda slicked a hand over her hair. “Me too. Sort of. I’m a little late actually. Work. You know.”
Was that supposed to mean he knew how harried her new
job was? He didn’t. Not anymore. Not since she’d quit working at his dad’s office and sneaked out without even saying goodbye.
He still felt the sting. “Work. Of course.”
Jackson focused on the lit elevator panel and the soft sounds as they moved higher. The seconds it took to rise to his floor seemed like hours. A thousand questions fogged his brain but he wouldn’t ask any of them. Nope. She’d run out without telling a soul because that was what she wanted. No explanation. No apology. And no indication of where she’d be in the future. She ran away. From their work relationship and their friendship. Hell—she’d fallen off the planet.
Jackson sure as hell wasn’t going to ask why. Not now. When the doors opened, he motioned for her to lead and followed her down the hall—to the same door he sought. Should he turn around and leave? Admittedly, seeing her brought mixed emotions—shitty and relieved ones. Did he really want to deal with that? He couldn’t abandon Carter. They’d been friends forever and hadn’t seen each other in a while.
“You’re going here too?” Amanda frowned. Apparently she wasn’t all that excited about seeing him either.
He nodded. “I had no idea you were into this kind of thing.” The only athletic thing he’d seen her do was jog and that was only one time when she’d been trying to catch a bus. Still, based on the muscle tone in her legs, she didn’t spend all her time on a sofa.
“I’m not. My friend Darlene bet me five hundred bucks that I couldn’t do at least two of the three challenges better than she did. Apparently I don’t have an adventurous bone in my body. But since neither of us has done anything like this, I figured my size would give me an advantage. I’m five inches taller and have not only the height advantage but longer legs.”
Inside the room, voices tumbled excitedly over the wild beat of some sort of retro music. Jackson couldn’t place the band but he felt the energy.
“Hey! There you are.” Carter rushed forward and circled an arm over Jackson’s shoulder, then scooped Amanda in as well. What the hell?
Need Me Page 19
