by Eden Bradley
He had to get over that shit. Had to get over the lousy job he’d done taking care of his mom, of Abby. Angel was not either one of them. He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, either. Hell, he’d practically been a kid.
He had to start looking at the fact that part of the protector thing was natural, but for him it was also about control. That role made him feel like he had some control over his life, and it was fucked up to lay that on Angel.
Time to deal with his issues, he’d realized while his knife bit into the wood in his hands, while the crickets sang in the darkness and Liam snored softly. Why was it the still and lonely night was when people usually had this sort of epiphany? Didn’t matter. It was long overdue.
In the morning he went to work exhausted. But he’d gotten through the day somehow. The minute he was done he’d jumped into his truck and called his father.
“Oran Byrne.”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Hi, Dec.”
“I guess you know what’s going on. That Angel is with Ruth.”
“Yeah. Ruth called me last night to tell me.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“I thought Angel might have a bad reaction to the news—that’s why I suggested you wait and have Ruth there when you told her. I don’t mean to rub your face in it. Just to tell you I think this is normal, under the circumstances.”
“I should have listened to you.”
His father was quiet a moment. “I never thought I’d hear you say that, Dec.”
He almost smiled. “Yeah, me, neither. Look, Dad, I need to go and see her. I need Ruth’s address.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, son? Maybe you should call.”
“No. I need to see her. Face-to-face. I know Angel, Dad.”
“All right. Ruth lives out by Noyo Bay, up Highway One.”
Oran gave him the address and they hung up.
He sat in his truck for several moments. As anxious as he was to see Angel he really did not want to blow it. He owed her an apology, at the very least. Owed it to her to let her know what had been going through his head all night, the conclusions he’d come to. He sure as hell wasn’t the type to open up, confide in anyone. But everything was different with Angel. He wanted to be different for her.
He turned the key in the ignition and the truck started with a low rumbling purr. He pulled onto the highway and headed north.
He’d driven this route dozens of times when Angel was in the hospital. Hundreds, maybe, over the course of his life. It was familiar. Comfortable for him. He’d always liked the comfort of being in a familiar place. Physically. Mentally.
Emotionally.
He was way the hell out of his comfort zone now. But he had to break out of it or he’d end up alone.
Without Angel.
Not acceptable.
He found Ruth’s place easily and parked on the road in front of the small yellow cottage. He hardly noticed it as he got out of the truck and swung the door closed. Until he was on the porch. Then it hit him—the scent of roses. He looked around, and in the dying light of day he saw that the place was surrounded by roses. White and lavender and pink. Coral, peach and dark red.
In the past he would have been annoyed by this similarity to his mother. Now it pleased him somehow. But he had more important things to think about. Like Angel.
He lifted his hand, his pulse racing.
He’d better make this damn good.
He knocked and Ruth answered the door. She smiled when she saw him, which surprised him.
“Declan, hi. I was just on my way out to see a client. An emergency of sorts. Angel is in the living room. Go on in. I’ll be back in about two hours, so you’ll have the place to yourselves.” She smiled again, put a hand on his arm. “It’s good you’re here,” she told him, her voice low. Her dark eyes were sparkling.
“Is it?”
“You two need to talk.”
He nodded, unable to say more. She seemed to understand, just gave his arm another pat as she moved past him, car keys in her hand. He went inside.
It was warm in the cottage. When Angel came into the living room, his breath stuttered in his chest.
She was so beautiful. He could never get over it, the purity of her face. Her blue, blue eyes. The cascade of hair like golden silk swinging almost to her knees.
And right now everything felt so damn important. Fucking crucial.
Calm down.
Angel stopped with her hand on the back of Ruth’s floral sofa for support. She had heard him arrive, had taken a moment in the kitchen to calm herself, to breathe.
“Angel, before you say anything, please hear me out.”
She nodded, emotion making her throat too tight to speak. She had so much to tell him. But she would listen first.
He took a step toward her, seemed to think better of it, stopped.
“Okay. Okay. I’ve been thinking. A lot. All night, if you want to know the truth. And I’ve come to some hard conclusions.”
Her heart twisted, stalled. Was he going to tell her he’d decided he didn’t want her anymore? Seeing him standing there with his emotions so naked on his face, she knew she wanted to be with him. Needed to be with him.
He took another step closer. He was so beautiful to her. His dark hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He probably had. His eyes were brilliant, that iris-dark-blue, the lashes black and full. He hadn’t shaved, which seemed impossibly tender to her for some reason she couldn’t explain.
“Declan—”
“No, let me say this, Angel.”
She nodded.
“I’ve been an idiot,” he told her. “And…closed off for most of my adult life. Which has only added to my stupidity. I’ve let my past rule me. My thought process. My emotions. Or my lack of emotion.” He stopped, shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki work uniform. “The truth is, I’ve been living in fear. It’s been a component in everything I’ve done. But mostly in my relationships with other people. My dad. You. And there’s enough of the macho jerk in me that I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. But I do now. I understand I have to get over this shit, that I have to let it go. Losing my mother. Losing Abby. Or I’ll be as trapped as you ever were, in that compound in the mountains.”
She felt the tears behind her eyes. They pooled, began to blur his face, as though she were looking through a rain-streaked window. She could still see, though, how hard this was for him.
“Declan, I’ve been unfair to you, too.”
He shook his head. “You were dealing with a trauma I can’t even begin to imagine. I knew something about how that kind of thing can work. Ruth told me. About how a victim can sometimes become emotionally attached to their captor. But my damn ego was in the way of me really listening. I wanted to believe you could put it all behind you just because I’d ridden in like some white knight to save you. Because saving you—saving someone—was so damn important to me. I needed that.”
“I don’t see that as being something terrible,” she said.
“No. What was terrible was that it became more important to me than anything else.”
“Is that really true, Declan?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer. “More important than me?”
He moved toward her then, a few long strides and he was right in front of her. He laid his hands on her shoulders and she felt the heat of him like a soft, lovely glow.
“Angel, nothing is more important than you. I just had to risk losing you to see that. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
“Declan…” She swallowed her tears, her throat closing up. She had never before imagined how crucial it would be to hear him say this now—that she truly mattered to him. She started once more. “Declan, I’ve been hard on you, too. I need to understand how unusual my situation is, that you were behaving as most people would. And I needed to let go of my past every bit as much as you. More, maybe. And I’ve done it—I need
to tell you that. I’ve said goodbye to Asmodeus. That’s over. I found that I don’t need him any longer, and whether or not he ever truly existed almost doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that I am my own person, finally. That I am of consequence. I am recognizing my own strength.”
“I see it, sweetheart. The stronger you become, the more I love you.”
He brushed her hair from her face, so much love in that simple motion.
“I have been emancipated, Declan. Some of it was with Ruth’s help, and much of it has been with yours. And much simply from myself, which is important. I have a long way to go. I understand the strangeness of my life may mean that I will always be dealing with the fallout, to some extent, that I may be able to go out into the world only so much.”
“That’s true for me, too, to some degree. It has been for a long time.”
“We have both been damaged,” she said.
“I don’t like to admit it, but yeah. We have. And it’s time for me to face the truth about a lot of things. But the most important truth, Angel, is that I love you. I need you. And I have to let go of my fears and my need to control my whole damn world so that we can be together.”
“I want that, Declan. I’m sorry I was angry with you.”
He shook his head, his brows drawn together. “Don’t be sorry. We’re here and…we’re together. Are we together, Angel?”
“Yes. I love you, Declan. Just as long as you can be patient with me. I still have so much to learn.”
“So do I. But it has to be with you. Has to be.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and he smiled, in a way she’d never seen him smile before. There was no restraint in it, for once. Purely unselfconscious. Beautiful.
He pulled her in close and she felt the inevitable heat of his body against hers. Love and desire were united in a way she knew it only could be with him. The man she loved, and who loved her in return. The man she chose.
She knew, in that moment, that choosing love was what had truly set her free.
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Subscribe to our newsletter: Harlequin.com/newsletters
Visit Harlequin.com
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN: 9781459233232
Copyright © 2012 by Eden Bradley
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
