by Beth Andrews
“Looks can be deceiving. Take off,” he told Tanner who was pretending not to watch Griffin and Layne. “We’ll finish this up tomorrow.”
Tanner shrugged. “Yeah, okay. I’ll just clean up.”
The kid was always good about putting stuff back where he found it and he kept the garage spotless. “That’s okay,” Griffin said, having a feeling he didn’t want his little brother witnessing whatever had prompted Layne’s visit. “I’ve got it.”
“You sure?” Tanner asked, shooting a worried glance at Layne.
“Tan. I’ve got this.”
Though it was kind of nice to have someone worried about him, have someone watching his back. Even if it was a seventeen-year-old.
“You’re coming to dinner, though, right?” Tanner asked.
“I said I was, didn’t I?” Hadn’t counted on how relieved he’d been when Tanner had relayed their mom’s message. That she wanted him to come. That she understood what the flowers, what the card meant. That he forgave her. “Now beat it.”
He waited until Tanner had climbed into the minivan before facing Layne. “What can I do for you, Officer?”
She raised her eyebrows in an innocent gesture that wouldn’t fool a blind man. “Me? Not a thing.” And she didn’t correct him of her title or rank or whatever the hell cops went by. Oh, yeah. Something was definitely up. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. See how you were holding up.” She strolled inside his garage, forcing him to follow her. “I heard you paid to have your father’s remains cremated.”
“Someone had to.” And he hadn’t wanted the state stuck with paying the bill. “You didn’t get what you wanted.” Layne raised her eyebrows. “Dale never paid for your mother’s death.”
“It would’ve been tough getting a conviction,” she said, “but I would’ve loved to have seen him go to trial. Maybe this was fate’s way of taking care of things for us.”
Griffin didn’t believe in fate. You made your own luck. “Still, I’m…” He stopped, rolled his head side-to-side. Forced the words out. “I’m sorry your family didn’t get the justice you deserve.”
“I almost believe you mean that.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you believe,” he told her mildly. But he had meant what he said. More than wanting justice for them, he wanted Nora to find some semblance of peace with the past.
Even though he worried he’d never find that peace for himself.
“Anything else?” he asked, wanting to ask how Nora was, if she’d mentioned him. He kept his mouth shut.
“No, that about covers it,” she said with way too much cheer. She glanced at her watch. “I’m running late so I’ll just get going. I told Nora I’d meet her at the café.”
He stiffened at the mention of her name. “Then you’d better get going.”
“I’d better.” Layne watched him carefully in that cop way of hers she had. “It’s my turn to try to talk her out of leaving Mystic Point.”
Everything inside him seemed to still, went cold. “What?”
“Oh, that’s right. You two haven’t been…hanging out lately so you probably don’t know…”
“Don’t know what?”
“She’s moving to Boston. I’m not sure why, but a few days ago she told us all she was offered a job at some prestigious law firm there. And that she’s accepting it.”
“Good for her,” he managed to say, feeling as if someone had cut off his air supply.
“I guess. I’m not crazy about her not being here all the time but…” Layne said giving a what-can-you-do gesture. “She has to do what’s best for her and her career.”
And with a wave she strutted herself out of his garage.
He stared at her back. It didn’t matter what Nora did, where she went. Didn’t matter if she was in Mystic Point or Boston. He wasn’t for her.
He had to let her go.
* * *
“I JUST DON’T understand why you want to move back to Boston,” Layne said as Keira delivered their lunches. “I thought you wanted to work at Uncle Kenny’s firm. That you wanted to live in Mystic Point.”
“Things change,” Nora said. And she’d been through too many of them to continue to stay here. It was too painful. There were too many things she couldn’t have. Too many secrets.
Layne took the cucumber slices off her grilled chicken salad and set them aside. “Is this sudden need to escape the only town you’ve ever wanted to live in because of Griffin?”
Her mouth thin, Nora stabbed her fork into her fried haddock. Griffin. Just hearing his name made her blood boil. Her heart hurt. Damn him. “This has nothing to do with him. I just…I realized that it’s time to give up on some dreams. Time to change those dreams,” she amended.
“Maybe,” Layne said, looking over Nora’s shoulder toward the door. “Or maybe it’s time to realize everything you want is right here.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her eyes wide, Nora slowly lowered the forkful of coleslaw she’d been about to bite. She looked from Layne—who was way too casual as she sipped her iced tea—up to Griffin’s furious face. Couldn’t think, not when he was glowering at her, all but vibrating with annoyance.
“Eating lunch?” she asked, not sure what he was asking, why he was there.
He laid his hands on the edge of the table, leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. “You’re not doing it,” he snarled.
“That lunch is awfully heavy on saturated fats,” Layne said, spearing a piece of lettuce.
Nora scowled. “I like saturated fats.” She looked up at Griffin, refrained from rubbing her bowl of coleslaw into his face. Mostly because that would be a waste of excellent coleslaw. “What are you, the diet police?”
“Damn it, Nora,” he said, smacking his hand against the table. “You’re not leaving.”
“And that’s my cue,” Layne murmured. She stood, took a step then reached back for her salad. “Play nicely.”
“Did you think I’d feel guilty if you moved to Boston,” Griffin asked. “If you left your family and the life you wanted because of me?”
Nora glanced around, noticed a few of the other diners were watching them curiously. “What are you talking about?” she asked lowly.
“I’m talking about you running back to Boston to avoid me.”
She narrowed her eyes, jabbed her fork in his direction and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed he straightened in time to avoid the tines puncturing his skin. “Did you really think I’m leaving town because I’m what…? Too overwrought about you not wanting to be with me that I couldn’t face life here without you? Oh, or I know, maybe you thought I was so heartbroken that the thought of us running into each other at the grocery store would send me into some suicidal frenzy? And you think I have a big ego?”
He flushed. Stabbed a hand through his hair. “Yes. No. I just…I don’t want you to give up the life you’ve always wanted because of me. I don’t want you giving anything up for me.”
“Believe me, I’m not.” Not completely. But a girl was entitled to a few secrets, right? Especially from the man who broke her heart.
Pointedly ignoring his presence, she picked up her roll, had it halfway to her mouth when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her from the booth. People were watching, staring, so she didn’t haul off and kick him like he deserved. Just smiled as she jogged to keep up with his long, angry strides as he tugged her through the restaurant and out the front door
.
Outside, he didn’t even slow, continued around the corner and to the edge of the parking lot. “Tell me why you’re leaving,” he demanded.
She yanked free of him. “You have lost your mind.” She stepped to the left. He blocked her. To the right. Same thing. “Seriously?” she ground out.
“Tell. Me.”
“I can’t stay here,” she blurted, holding her blowing hair away from her face. “It’s too hard. Being around my sisters, my father…working with Uncle Ken, helping Aunt Astor and Erin plan the wedding…knowing the truth…” She shook her head slowly. “It’s too much.”
“You didn’t tell Ken?”
“I couldn’t. With Dale dead I didn’t see any reason to. Not when it’ll only hurt so many people.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “So now that your conscience is clear and you don’t have to worry about little ol’ me, you can go back to your cave—I mean, your garage—and finish living your life all by yourself. Because there’s no way in hell I’d let you, or the fact that I stupidly let myself fall in love with you, run me out of town.”
* * *
I STUPIDLY LET myself fall in love with you.
No. She didn’t mean it.
But this was Nora. She didn’t lie. Didn’t play games. She was open and honest and giving and trusting. She was everything he didn’t deserve and everything he wanted.
“You can’t leave,” he said, pretending not to hear the desperation in his tone. “If you do, Dale wins. Is that what you want?”
“No one won. My mother is dead. Dale is dead. And I’m…God, I don’t even know what I am. Who I am.”
“You’re Nora Sullivan. You’re Tim Sullivan’s daughter. Layne and Tori’s sister. You are who you’ve always been and you’re strong enough to deal with this. Smart enough to know that it’s what’s inside you that makes you the person you are, not who your parents are.” Taking a chance, he stepped closer, grateful when she didn’t move away. “Brave enough to face this, to accept it and to choose to be the same person you were before you found out.”
Her eyes welled and she averted her gaze, staring over his shoulder at the back of the building.
“I miss you,” he said quietly, too far gone to worry about his pride or the fact that she was justified in wanting to kick his teeth in. She couldn’t leave.
“Good,” she said so fervently it was all he had not to drag her against him and kiss the hell out of her.
“Could you look at me? Please?” She did but seemed reluctant. His stomach twisted with nerves. “I was wrong,” he said slowly.
She raised her eyebrows when he remained silent. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“What else do you want from me?”
“I want you to show some emotion. I want you to be honest with me.”
He’d admitted he was wrong, told her he’d missed her. What did she need? Blood? How much more was he expected to give? He had to keep some things to himself or he’d have nothing left.
“I want to be with you,” he said.
“Why?”
He tugged on his ear, felt as if the ground was shifting beneath his feet. “Because.”
“Why, Griffin? Is it because of the sex? Because we both know you can get that from any number of women in town.”
“I…I care about you.”
She shook her head sadly as if he was completely clueless. “Not good enough. Don’t you get it? I want it all. I want the man I’m with to give me the love I deserve. A grand, all-encompassing, passionate love. The kind that’s forever. The kind that my father had for my mother. Except, unlike her I’ll appreciate that love. More importantly, I’ll return it. So if you’re not able to tell me why you want to be with me, if you aren’t willing to put it all on the line and let me into your life fully, then there’s nothing else to talk about.”
She sounded final, her words felt like some sort of death knell. He didn’t know what to do or say, how to convince her. Wasn’t sure he could open himself up to her, expose himself to that kind of risk.
But the thought of a life without Nora was even more terrifying.
He took her hands in his, held on when she stiffened. “You make me want things,” he said, choosing his words carefully, afraid he’d mess it up anyway. Her fingers twitched in his. “Things I’ve never let myself want before. A future. A home. A family of my own. Someone to share my life with. I want to share my life with you, Nora, because you’re the best of everything. You have strength and kindness. Humor and intelligence. And you have my heart.” He lifted her hand, placed a kiss on her palm. “Right here. Don’t give it back. Please.”
Her breath caught, her eyes glimmered with tears as she searched his face. He kept his expression open, let her see everything. How much he loved her, how much he needed her. His hopes and his fears.
Finally, giving him a shaky, beautiful smile, she cupped his face with both hands. “I won’t give it back,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I’ll cherish it. And I’ll give you mine in return.”
He kissed her, his angel, his love, and knew he’d finally found his salvation.
* * * * *
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CHAPTER ONE
WHEN JESSICA TAYLOR lost her virginity three months and six guys ago—after fiercely guarding it for fifteen years—she’d been stone-cold sober.
She hadn’t made that mistake again.
Her stomach rolled. From the Jack Daniel’s, she assured herself. She should’ve stuck with beer. It always gave her a nice, mellow buzz without making her want to puke. Mostly because she knew her limit. Whiskey was a new beast, one she hadn’t figured out her tolerance to yet.
But Nate had been so sweet when she’d arrived at the party a few hours ago, teasing her into trying J.D. and Diet Coke, making sure her glass was always full, adding more soda when she choked, her eyes watering at the first taste.
Yeah, he was a real prince.
A cold sweat broke out along her hairline. Her stomach churned again. Because of the alcohol. It had nothing to do with her being on her back in the middle of the freaking woods.
She stared up at the moon peeking through the branches of the trees and pretended she was somewhere else, anywhere else, doing anything except what she was doing. That she wasn’t wasted—yet again. And that Nate Berry, with his floppy, pop-star hair and tight circle of friends, really l
iked her. Cared about her. That he wasn’t using her.
That she wasn’t letting him use her.
Her skin grew clammy. Prickled with the cold. Nate’s fingers clenched her hips, his face pressed against her neck. He was just another boy. And this was just another meaningless, drunken hookup in what was quickly becoming a long line of meaningless, drunken hookups.
Tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes shut. No. No feeling sorry for herself. She had every right to have sex with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was her body after all. Her choice to give it to some guy or not.
She was in control.
Her back and butt scraped against the rough earth. Her neck was stretched back, her hair caught between the crown of her head and the ground, pulling painfully each time he moved. She just wanted it to be over. Wanted to pretend it had never happened in the first place. Just like all the other times.
Clutching his arms, she lifted her hips to keep from getting the mother of all brush burns, to stop the contents of her stomach from sloshing. She inhaled deeply, breathed in the scent of Nate’s cologne and the pungent smell from the bonfire in the clearing outside the trees. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her skin as he groaned hoarsely and shuddered then finally—finally—stilled.
Thank God.
He collapsed on top of her, surprisingly heavy for a guy who looked as if he’d never heard of carbs, let alone ate any. His heart beat frantically against her chest, his breath hot and ragged against her shoulder. They had connected in the most elemental way. And still she felt alone. Always alone.
Her throat closed. Without a word, without a kiss or a murmured endearment or even an outright lie about how fantastic it’d been, how fantastic she was, Nate climbed to his feet. He turned his back and adjusted his clothes.
The cool night air washed over her bare skin. She shivered but couldn’t find the energy or the care to cover herself. After she’d lost her virginity to a smooth-talking college freshman, she’d stopped believing guys’ lines. Had quickly learned they’d do and say anything to get into a girl’s pants.
