Long Road Home

by Marie Meyer

  The picture at the top step is Cayden in his dress blues, his mother and father proudly at his side—Cayden looks just like his dad. They both have the same tall frame, square jaw, and broad shoulders.

  Taking another step, I see Cayden and Blake at their high school graduation, and another with Cayden in his cap and gown, his arm around other friends.

  Worrying the tissue in my hand, I scan the length of the staircase: the photographic history of Cayden Sinclair lays before me. I could learn his whole life story just by traveling up and down the stairs a handful of times.

  High school…sports…junior high…elementary school…Little League…friends…vacations…baby days…family…with each step, the pictures hypnotize me. I can’t leave until I know everything about him.

  A muffled, weak cough travels down the hall, drawing my attention back upstairs.

  Oh shit! The water! Not earning the Nurse of the Year award tonight.

  I sneak one last glance at a sweaty shaggy-haired (Ahh!! He had long hair! So friggin’ cute!) Cayden in a football uniform, and race down the remaining stairs.

  Jogging through the hallway, I search the wall for a light switch in the kitchen and flip it on. The kitchen is plunged into brightness and I squint against the shock.

  I pad over to the fridge and pull it open, grabbing a water bottle from the shelf. Shutting the door swiftly, I turn and see Cayden standing in the entryway. “Oh!” I shout, putting my hand over my racing heart. “You scared me.” I let out a huge breath.

  A devious smile on his lips, all the tension and anxiety from when his mom brought up his scar has disappeared. He walks our takeout containers to the waste can, steps on the lever, and drops the empty boxes inside. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. But, I’m not going to lie, I was enjoying the view.”

  “What? My backside?” I throw a self-conscious glance over my shoulder.

  Cayden takes two steps and we’re nearly eye-to-eye. Moving his hands to my waist, he presses his fingers into my side and pulls me against him. “This”—his hands roam to the small of my back…and lower—“is fucking gorgeous.”

  I swallow a sigh and try not to melt into a puddle at his feet. Forcing out the only words that come to mind, I hold up the water bottle . “Got the water.”

  He sways his hips, and mine in turn, teasing (and doing a damn fine job, at that). “Good. I was wondering if you got lost.”

  Nope, just distracted by your life’s history along the staircase…and the lengthening hardness pressing between my legs.

  “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t think Mom was going to go into the miscarriage stories.” He works his hands up my back, holding me closer.

  “It’s fine, really. I can’t believe I turned into a blubbering mess.” I lay my head on his shoulder and shake my head.

  “I think my mom fell in love with you tonight. When you left the room, she couldn’t stop gushing over you.” His voice is deep and thoughtful. Just your mom? I want to ask, but, given the fact that I can’t give him what he wants—his big family, lots of grandchildren for Katy—it’s safer that I don’t.

  For three years, I’ve pushed away every guy I’ve dated, scared to let anyone inside. But everything is different with Cayden. When he touches me, I don’t feel lost; I know where I want to go, and whom I want by my side when I get there.

  Yet, even knowing I’ve found someone who centers me, I know I’m not good for him, and before things get more serious between us, I need to tell him…warn him, but the words stop at the edge of my tongue with no intention of falling beyond my lips.

  “Ren?” he says, brushing his hand down the back of my head. “You okay?” He kisses the top of my head.

  I nod, mumbling against his shoulder, “I’m okay.” Looking up, I flash him a reassuring smile. “Let’s get this to your mom.”

  Cayden grabs my hand and we turn to leave, flipping off lights as we head back up the stairs. Snippets of Cayden’s life flash along the wall, one catching my attention. Halfway up the staircase, I stop. Cayden, still holding my hand, pauses the second he realizes I’m a step behind.

  “Ren?” He backtracks, coming to stand beside me.

  I point to the photo. “Is that you?”

  He takes a closer look and nods. “Yeah, why?”

  Drenched in sunshine, a young Cayden—not more than ten or eleven—stands in the middle of a forest clearing bowing his head over his folded hands. “What’s this a picture of? You look so peaceful.” I shift my gaze from the picture to Cayden.

  A wistful smile touches his lips as the memory carries him to the past. “Dad took that picture. My first time using a compass,” he says longingly. “We were hiking, Dad made me navigate our way back to the campground.”

  “Did you make it?” I want to be where he is. Take me with you, Cayden.

  His eyes still glued to the picture, he nods. For a few quiet seconds more, Cayden visits with his dad. I can imagine he’s recalling the rustling noises of the forest, the summer sun on his skin, and his dad’s patient voice guiding him as he navigated them back home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cayden

  I pull into an empty space in front of Ren’s apartment and kill the engine. Opening my door, I step out just as a patrol car whizzes past, sirens blaring. How does she stand to live down here? All the crime, the constant noise. Her building has good security features, but it still makes me nervous knowing she’s down here, alone.

  Jogging around the front of the truck, I pull open her door and offer my hand. “You know,” she says, slipping her hand into mine, “you don’t always have to open the door for me. I won’t think you’re some kind of insensitive bastard, or anything.” One heeled foot at a time, she steps down.

  “Noted.” I tap my index finger against my temple. “But as long as you’re my girl, be prepared for the chivalric code, sweetheart.” If there’s one thing I learned from my father, it’s how to treat the woman who owns your heart. “Oh, and you should note that I will never stop opening the door for you,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear. “When I’m a hundred years old and you’re ninety-nine, you might have to wait a good long while, but I will make it around the car to open your door.”

  “Noted,” she says, touching her temple, and biting the corner of a coy smile.

  Sweetheart, I’d open the doors to the world for you, if you’d let me.

  I kiss the top of her head and inhale deeply, getting lost in the tropical scent of her hair. Tonight was just what I needed. Even though they don’t know it, Ren and Mom kicked my foul mood in the ass.

  Hand in hand, we climb the stoop and enter through the double doors of her apartment. Ren rummages around in her purse and pulls out her keys. “Do you want to come up?” she asks, her eyes locking on mine for a brief second before she turns to unlock the entry door.

  Oh, sweetheart, do I. I want to pick you up, carry you into your apartment, kiss you senseless, and not stop until we’re satisfied and tangled in each other’s arms. “I’d love to.”

  With the door unlocked, I pull it open, and let her lead the way. Walking to the elevator bay, she presses the button and we wait.

  Electricity charges the air and the hairs on my arms and back of my neck stand on end. My muscles flex, needing to touch her.

  The elevator opens and Ren steps inside, me at her back. Sliding to the left, she pushes three on the panel of floor numbers, and leans against the wall as the doors close.

  I’ve got to get my hands on her. Bursting her personal bubble of space, I slip my hands around her waist, our eyes locked. I wait for her frightened bird response, the one that tells me I’ve pushed her as far as she’s willing to go. But right now, it doesn’t come. The usual fear I see in her eyes is replaced with dark pools of desire, and I’m ready to dive in. I don’t go slowly, crushing my lips to hers. She heaves a rapturous sigh, arching her body in offering.

  I work my mouth over her lips, moving down the side of her neck, across her chest, placi
ng a kiss over the charm she found on our first date.

  Ren moans, her chest heaving as she wraps her arms around my head, allowing me to worship at her altar.

  “Cayden…”

  She’s killing me. My name comes out of her mouth dripping in sex and it takes all my restraint not to take her right here. “I fucking love it when you say my name like that,” I say against her mouth. Cupping her glorious tits, I’m praising and cursing this red dress. “Ren, I want you.”

  The elevator lurches to a stop and the doors open with a high-pitched ping.

  “Fuck,” I growl, forced to cease my ministrations. “Why don’t you live on the thirty-third floor?” I breathe a harried laugh.

  “God, why don’t I?” she sighs, straightening her back, a wanton smile tugging at her swollen lips.

  Pushing my fingers through her luscious curls, I bring her head to mine and kiss her again, one last time before we need to leave the elevator for good. “We should—”

  The elevator cuts me off with an unceremonious, ding, and the doors slide closed.

  I rest my head against her forehead and laugh. “We could travel up to the thirty-third floor.” I wag my eyebrows.

  She presses the open button, saying, “I have a better idea.”

  The elevator opens again and she grabs my hand, hauling me toward her apartment.

  Inside, Ren kicks off her heels and we’re no longer the same height. I’ve got a good five inches on her now. Taking her by the elbow, I spin her around, and pull her close. Not wasting another minute, I kiss her, reclaiming the intensity of what we had in the elevator. Stalking forward, I pin her between my body and the door. “You’re right,” I breathe against her mouth, “this is a better idea.” My hands roam over her waist and down her hips, as my fingers work her dress upward. It’s an amazing dress, but is has to go.

  “Uh-huh,” she moans, nodding. Bending down, I drag my lips over her cheeks, her jaw, paying close attention to her neck, with a gentle bite. Pulling my hands upward, her dress sits at her waist, giving my hands enough access to what’s underneath.

  Trailing my hands along the seam of her closed legs, I climb higher and higher, increasing the pressure, wanting her to open for me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Relax.” My index finger meets the silk of her panties and I rub against her.

  Ren turns her head, cutting off access to her neck and pushes on my shoulders, hard. I step back.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asks, shoving her dress back in place. “A drink?” She walks toward the kitchen, not meeting my eye. What the hell just happened?

  Still breathless and damned confused, I reply, “Uh, no thanks. I have to be at work in eight hours.” I follow her into the kitchen, needing her to talk to me. If I’m doing something wrong, I want to know. “Ren,” I say, touching her elbow. Gently, I pull her toward me, careful to keep my distance.

  She turns around, looking up at me with her sad, dark eyes. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

  She nods, biting her lower lip. “Just give me a minute, okay?” she whispers. “I’m okay, I promise. I just need to take things slow.”

  “I can do slow.” I give her a reassuring smile. Whatever haunts her, I don’t want to be the person that dredges up those memories.

  “Coffee?” She holds up the two mugs, one in each of her hands.

  I nod, letting her set the pace. “Sounds good.”

  I walk around the counter and slide onto one of the barstools. I cross my arms, watching her move about the kitchen. It’s such a strange dichotomy: even though she put the brakes on, the pull to put my hands on her is overwhelming, and yet I’m content to sit here and watch her all night, if that’s what she wants.

  It’s unreal how well Ren fits into my life. I was so worried that having a love life would interfere with my job and take time away from Mom, but tonight proved that I can have it all. As a matter of fact, having Ren with me tonight made the blow from Captain Fuller bearable. Until she showed up, I didn’t know how empty my life was, which is what Mom had been telling me all along.

  Ren picks up a small remote on the counter and points it into the living room. A slow ballad with a heavy bass fills the room. Definitely not country.

  “Oh, no. We cannot listen to this.” She cringes and mashes her thumb against the buttons. There’s a lull in the music and a song I recognize comes on, the song to which she lead me around the dance floor at Blake’s wedding.

  “What was wrong with the other song?” I rest my elbows on the counter, memorizing every facial expression, every line and curve of her body. I can’t get enough of the graceful sway of her hips as she pulls a box of coffee pods from a high shelf. What makes this whole scene perfect: she has no clue how fucking sexy she is.

  “You really don’t know who that was?” She looks over her shoulder.

  “Not a clue, sweetheart. My name-that-tune knowledge is best if the performers hail below the Mason–Dixon line.”

  “Hmm…” Bemused, she pops a coffee pod into the Keurig and closes the lid. “And here I thought everyone in the bi-state area knew that group.”

  “Not everyone. Who is it?” I’m beginning to wonder if I should know.

  “It’s Mine Shaft. My brother’s band. They’re alt-rock.” The Keurig sputters and Ren pulls the steaming mug from beneath the spout and passes me the first cup. I take it off her hands and she quickly starts the next.

  “Guess that’s why I’ve never heard of them.” I shrug, pressing the rim of the coffee mug to my lips. Sipping carefully, I wince, the bitterness and the temperature assault my tongue, a double whammy. “That’s a strong cup of joe, sweetheart.” Coffee’s not my caffeinated beverage of choice, but when there’s paperwork to be filed, the clock’s ticking slow on the late shift, and there’s no Mountain Dew in sight, it fits the bill.

  She smacks her palm against her head. “I’m such a dope. I drink mine black, so I didn’t even think to offer you any cream or sugar.” She bites her lip, suddenly shy. “I don’t do a lot of entertaining, either, so I’m not the best hostess. I’m used to Dylen making herself at home.”

  I stand and make a slow jaunt around her counter, our gazes locked. “Shhh…” The granite countertop is cool under my fingers. One foot in front of the other, I stride closer to where I want to be, hoping she won’t push me away this time.

  Three…two…one…

  Ren shuffles backward, leaning against the counter, staring up at me.

  Calm yourself, Sinclair. Take it slow. Don’t rush this. Don’t scare her.

  “Is this okay?” I ask, slipping a big, floppy curl behind her ear. All evening, I’ve watched that curl fight a losing battle, hanging over her left eye only to be shoved back in line with the others. It’s determined though, refusing to give up the war. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

  Ren nods. There’s still apprehension in her eyes, but she’s not pushing me away.

  I drag my thumb over the curve of her soft bottom lip. “We’ll move at your pace, okay?” Her mouths parts and she exhales, her hot breath fanning out over my hand. A flame ignites inside me. Tracing the curve of her mouth, where skin meets lip, it takes all my strength not to throw her on the counter and bury myself deep inside her.

  Eyes still locked on one another, I feel the tip of her tongue sweep over my thumb as she slowly licks her lips. My dick throbs, begging to be freed from the confines of my pants.

  Setting my hands at her waist, I lift her onto the countertop, gently running my hands down the smooth fabric of the red dress that’s teased me all night. Hell, who am I kidding, she’s tortured me all night.

  I brush my fingers along the tops of her thighs, like I did earlier. With unhurried, deliberate movement, I gauge her reaction. I’ve seen apprehension, disquiet, and unease reflected in her dark eyes, something plaguing her whenever sex is on the horizon. It breaks my heart to see uncertainty and doubt in her eyes when she looks at me. I don’t know what happened in her past, but I know
she lived through something frightening. I want her to know I’m not that guy; I would never hurt her. I want my touch to silence her fears.

  Ren parts her legs and moves her hands up my arms, inviting me in. Her eyelids close as she tilts her head, and I meet her halfway, our mouths barely touching. “Are you sure?”

  She nods. “It’s okay…I’m okay.”

  Dragging my lips against hers, more blood rushes south. My body urges me to speed up the pace. I want to be inside her more than I want to breathe.

  I slide my hands beneath her dress, working my way languidly up her thigh, every nerve ending in my fingertips firing at once. The roundness of her hips filling my palms, the curve of her ass…my fingers don’t meet panties. I know she had panties on when we walked through the door? I slide her forward, desperate to flip her skirt up and get a better look.

  Her fingers roam over my close-cropped military cut, the hair on my head prickling beneath her deft hands. I dip my tongue into her mouth, teasing. In…out…in…out… Each time a little farther. “Ren,” I groan. “God, the things I want to do to you.”

  She pulls back, just a fraction of an inch. My mouth is cold without hers. Fuck, I pushed her too far. She searches my face, her eyes wide and dark. Licking her lips, she whispers, “I want you to.”

  “Ren?” I shake my head, unsure, remembering how scared she looked moments ago.

  She nods with a sigh. “I’m okay. I want this…with you.” Drawing my head back to hers, our foreheads pressed close. “Take me to bed, Cayden.”

  Ren, please be sure, because I fucking need you. My heart pounds in my chest, ready to burst through my rib cage, dying to get as close to her as humanly possible. “Like I said before, you’re in control, sweetheart.”