Confessing History (Freehope Book 3)

by Jenni M. Rose

  The prosthetic was part of him now, as much a part as his leg used to be.

  She wasted no time when his pants were unzipped, pulling them and his boxers as far down as she could. As far as he would let her, his hands on hers when she tried to take them all the way off.

  When she looked up, he was hot and hard, right there in front of her, and ripe for the taking, but she held herself back when she saw the look on his face. It wasn’t terror, but it was something achingly close.

  Ever so slowly she leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the round tip. Then she stood and took a step away from him.

  “You’re not into this,” she explained, hands on hips. She might have looked silly, standing there naked, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was watching her with rapt attention, naked save the pants that were bunched just below his knees. “Change of plans.”

  “I’m into it,” he tried to argue. “I just—”

  “It’s okay,” she assured him, taking the few steps to caress his face. “Let’s try something else and see how that goes. One step at a time, Doc.”

  He tried to cover himself, now that she was changing the plans, but she held him back.

  “I’ll turn my back and let you get undressed. I’m going to do the same over there.” She pointed to the other side of the bed. “After that, we’ll meet in the middle and you can just hold me. I think I’d like that, too.”

  “You want me to lay in bed with you? Naked. And just hold you?” he asked, trying to clarify what her plans were.

  She nodded.

  Instead of answering, he watched her for a moment, considering. Then he turned his back on her.

  Beth did the same and they met a few minutes later in the middle of the bed. She backed herself into him, letting him spoon her, his heart thumping heavily against her back.

  “No pressure from me, Logan,” she promised, bringing his hand up to kiss it. His skin was hot against her back from head to toe, skin to skin. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

  7

  Logan took the fact that they’d been on their trip for an entire week, without killing each other, as a good sign.

  More than not killing each other, they’d gotten closer. He’d fought against it the first few days, still angry at their past, but when he’d let that go, they’d done well. In fact, Beth was almost a different person.

  When they first met in Freehope, she’d been flirty and sassy. She still had the sass, but the constant flirting was toned down considerably. He missed it, if he was honest. There was a certain sparkle in her eye that she wasn’t showing him for some reason. That sparkle tended to keep him on his toes. When he saw it, he knew that she was up to something and he had to have his guard up, waiting for her to pounce. Now she looked almost solemn at times. He wasn’t sure if it was his situation that was making her act that way or if that was just who Beth really was. Maybe the flirting was the mask she wore, and he’d fallen for that person instead of who she really was.

  He shook his head as they strolled Navy Pier in Chicago. That wasn’t it. He hadn’t fallen for the fake Beth, the flirty Beth. He hadn’t fallen for her at all. He was starting to think he’d fallen for the sex and fun of it all, instead of the person she was.

  The Beth he was with now was a million times more interesting than the person he’d thought she was. She was introspective at times and intelligent, studying everything around her. She was a major people-watcher, noting everyone around them and noticing things he’d never see: the woman who was struggling with a baby where Beth helped unfold her stroller or the man who dropped his credit card that she returned.

  There were so many things he hadn’t known about her, and he found them all more than interesting. He found them endearing.

  He was starting to think that his love-at-first-sight story had been nothing more than lust.

  He hated to admit that because he’d been the one to sell her that story so many times, but he might have to eat his words. What was love at first sight anyway, he asked himself. Was it truly love? Could you truly love someone you just met?

  The answer was no, and he knew that now. He hadn’t loved her.

  He liked to think that his soul recognized her instantly, and maybe that was what triggered the love. But as far as loving her for who she was, he hadn’t considered that aspect of it.

  Love was never so easy as just falling, was it?

  The weather in Chicago was nice for later March and they strolled, not hand in hand, but still side by side. They’d spent the past two nights tangled up in each other, naked and in bed together, but with no sex. He’d wanted to touch her, desperately, but there had been something holding him back.

  His damn missing leg. She’d called it that night in Indiana, asking him if it was nerves, and it was. It pissed him off nearly as much as it embarrassed him, but Beth took it in stride.

  She didn’t pressure him or ask for more than he could give in that situation. She was just there for him, steadfast and understanding. That was the Beth he didn’t know.

  If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall for her. He wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. This Beth was different somehow. They were both different people: him without his leg and her without that flippant mask on. He’d seen through it immediately, but he’d still let her snow him. He’d been blinded by his desire for her that he didn’t see how deep her camouflage went.

  His mistake.

  Eating crow never tasted good, but the revelation sank deep inside him, and he liked to think he’d finally started to see her more clearly.

  “Owen and I came here once or twice when we were in basic,” he told her, starting their conversation back up. They’d been talking about nothing in particular, just how the week had been going and how much of the country they’d seen.

  “I’ve never been this far inland,” she told him. “I always seem to stick to the coast.”

  “You must be part mermaid,” he said, picturing her in the water with a tail, swimming freely. “Maybe a siren,” he corrected.

  “Luring men to their doom?” she asked, her brows drawn down, clearly not liking the idea. “Is that how you see me?”

  “I meant the irresistible part,” he said, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. “I can picture you out there, basking in the sun on a rock, and men flocking to you, jumping off their ships without a care, just to get to you.”

  “No thanks,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around his waist.

  It threw his gait off a little until they fell into step, his prosthetic still not completely a part of him. He still felt wooden when he walked, trying to relearn how to be himself in some ways.

  “There’s only one sailor I want to lure to my deserted island,” she continued.

  He took the hint and pulled her a little closer.

  The last few days had been interesting. They’d become almost a couple, an unspoken bond bringing them closer and putting them squarely into a place that wasn’t neutral, by any means. Hell, they’d spent those nights in each other’s arms. If that didn’t put them into a romantic category, he didn’t know what would.

  So, instead of dwelling on it, he was just rolling with it.

  They could spend the entire trip being together, for all he cared. He wanted to be with her and spend that time with her.

  He just wasn’t sure where that would leave them in the end.

  After all, she was the one that always said she wasn’t the woman for him. What had made her suddenly change her mind? Could it have been the situation with his leg? That’s when she’d come running back to him, ready to be the woman he needed.

  He suddenly looked down at her, wondering at her motives.

  “What made you come to Connecticut?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

  She didn’t meet his gaze, taking in the scenery as she mulled his question.

  “I’ve been out at sea since Owen and Andy got married. Something about trying to come back to shore and star
ting my life just made me sick to my stomach. So, I stayed out and only called once in a while. I could tell they were hiding something. Pissed me off royally, but I thought it was something trivial, you know. I didn’t know it was something so serious. My last trip wasn’t great. Actually, it was the worst contract I’ve ever done. I’ll never go back out to sea.”

  Beth loved her work, loved the ships she was on and the people. She’d told him many times, regaled him with stories of her coworkers and their adventures.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, shaking her head.

  He stopped walking, pulling her to a stop. Her instant shutdown raising red flags.

  “Did something happen out there, Sugar?”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes and something inside his chest shifted. Beth was a secret keeper. The things she felt deeply she kept bottled up inside and close to her heart. She didn’t talk to him about how she felt about her mother’s death, not without prying anyway. She talked about her life and the things she did, but how she felt about them? Those things she guarded with her life.

  Her entire demeanor had changed. Simply asking about her last trip had caused her to close up on him.

  He dragged her to a bench and let people pass them by, all the while watching her. She studiously avoided looking at him, taking in the horizon as though something out there might save her from the conversation they were going to have if he had any say.

  “Beth,” he prodded.

  She took a steadying breath, almost shoring herself up in preparation.

  “One of my bosses…he got a little handsy,” she admitted, still not meeting his eyes, her shoulder hitching up in what was probably supposed to be a negligent shrug.

  Logan felt himself go still for a single second before his hand tightened over hers.

  “Handsy?” He was deadly calm, his voice even and steady. Inside, he felt a rage wash over him.

  Someone had dared to touch her?

  “Please don’t make a big deal about it?” she whispered. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tell me what handsy means,” he insisted.

  She looked at him then, her eyes rolling in his direction.

  “It means exactly what you think it means.”

  “He touched you somewhere he shouldn’t have without your permission,” he said on a breath. “Tell me he got kicked off the ship, Sugar. Tell me you got his ass fired for violating your personal space.”

  She shook her head. “He was my supervisor. There was no one to tell.”

  He wanted to argue. There was always someone to tell. Her supervisor had to have a supervisor that would have thrown that man’s sorry ass off the ship the second Beth came forward.

  But, he didn’t argue.

  He’d learned, at a young age, that women and their privacy needed a delicate hand. His own mother, a victim of domestic abuse, didn’t come forward for years. Not because she wasn’t strong or smart, but because she didn’t feel that she could.

  Because the abuse and the abuser had made her feel powerless. Her inner strength, lodged so deep, had taken his mother a long time to harness.

  He knew Beth was just as strong, but this man had tried to take that from her.

  Fury coursed through his veins.

  Someone not only touched his woman, but they did it without her permission. They took away her right to consent.

  And they tried to take her backbone along with them.

  Without worrying about where they might end up in the future or what their label was, he pulled her into his arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Sugar,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have called me. I would have done something.”

  She pulled away from him, no tears in her eyes, just a look that screamed that he was a raging hypocrite.

  “Like you called me when you got hurt? I didn’t hear about it until four months had gone by. Hell, you wouldn’t even return my calls when I did try to get in touch and I know damn well, you weren’t in country. You could have picked up but you didn’t.”

  “That’s different,” he insisted.

  “Why? Because you want me to need you, but don’t want to need me back?” She shook her head and stood, not angry so much but bleeding frustration. “And P.S., I did call. You didn’t answer.”

  There was his humble pie again, tasting like ashes in his mouth.

  He’d spent so long blaming her for everything that had gone wrong with them, that he hadn’t spent a lot of time looking at himself. He’d been distant with her, keeping her at arm’s length instead of letting her in.

  What kind of person tells someone they should have called when they were in trouble, but didn’t answer the call when it came in?

  Logan propped his elbows on his thighs and put his head in his hands. There was only one bottom line, and that was that he’d failed her. In every way possible, he’d failed her.

  She sat next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  He let out a humorless chuckle and lifted his head, holding in a glare that wasn’t directed at her.

  “You’re sorry? For what?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you,” she explained. “I knew you wouldn’t take it well. Not that I’d expect you to. I haven’t told my sisters, either. With Andy’s past, I didn’t want to dredge up any old feelings for her because it’s not nearly the same thing.”

  “It is the same thing,” he argued. “And just because it went further with Andy, doesn’t negate what happened to you.”

  She nodded, like she agreed, but he wasn’t sure she really did. Her hand was warm where it still rested on his back, and he felt ridiculous, having her comfort him in the situation.

  But there was something moving between them, their eyes locked. Her bright blue eyes glowed in the sun that bounced off the water around them. Her cheeks were pink from the breeze, and she was watching him with something he’d liken to affection.

  He hoped she saw the same thing when she looked into his eyes, because that’s what he felt for her. There was a genuine affection for her and the person she was turning out to be.

  “Do you feel any better, now that you know?” she asked quietly.

  “I feel better when you aren’t keeping secrets from me,” he countered.

  She looked away and her wordlessness signaled that she had more secrets up her sleeve.

  He wouldn’t push her. This conversation had been a push and he shouldn’t have done it. He was glad to know the things she’d gone through, but his methods had the potential to damage what they had growing between them.

  “I want to tell you everything,” she admitted. “I want you to see why I run all the time. Why I’m so scared to show you who I really am.”

  “I see who you are, Beth. I’m very fond of who you are.”

  Her lips twitched up into a small smile. “I appreciate that.” Though she didn’t sound confident in his statement. “I’m just not ready yet.”

  He leaned back, pulling her with him, until they sat next to each other on the bench, his arm over her shoulder.

  “That’s okay,” he told her. “We can cross that bridge if we come to it.”

  If.

  Not when, but if.

  The following week brought a change between them. The tension in the air broke, like a thunderstorm had blown over them at Navy Pier in Chicago and swept its way across the landscape.

  After that, they’d spent another night in Chicago, then headed out, proceeding with their trip. They’d spent a few days passing through Nebraska and then Colorado, enjoying a leisurely day or two in each.

  It got warmer the farther south they drove and the later into spring it got. April dawned as they crossed into New Mexico, their last stop before their final destination of the Grand Canyon.

  They still hadn’t had sex. Hell, they’d barely even fooled arou
nd.

  Ever since she’d told him about her sleazy boss feeling her up, Logan had treated her like she was as delicate as a newly spun spiderweb. She was nearing her wits end, on the razor’s edge of longing all the time. What the hell did it take to get the man to ravish her?

  In her infinite wisdom, she’d decided to put the ball in his court, letting him take the lead where intimacy was concerned. She got the feeling he’d had the same thought and was waiting for her.

  Despite the fact that she was as sexually frustrated as she’d ever been in her life, they’d had a good week. They’d talked a lot about the things they enjoyed in life and where they saw themselves in the future.

  As she looked out the passenger window, watching the dry New Mexico plains pass by, she listened to him talk about the things he wanted in life.

  The weight of her sadness pressed against her shoulders, making her sink further into her seat.

  “Kids,” he said, reiterating what she already knew. “I didn’t have much of a father growing up. He wasn’t a good guy.” Logan paused and Beth gave him the time he needed. He didn’t talk much about his family life or what growing up had been like for him. He talked about his mother and how she’d raised him, but he rarely mentioned his father. “He hit my mom,” he admitted. “A lot.”

  He didn’t say anything after that and when she glanced at him, his jaw was clenched, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.

  Beth said nothing, waiting him out.

  Logan could talk. He could talk about life and the things he saw around them. He was well-versed in history and politics, and had no problems having a reasonable and intelligent discussion about numerous subjects.

  When his father came up, he became tight-lipped. His words became choppy, his sentences stilted. She knew if she interrupted, even to ask a question, he might shut down and not say anything at all.