Unspoken Fears (The Unspoken Love Series Book 4)

by H. P. Davenport

  Jamie squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, man. You know as well I as do, when we come to Aces in the middle of the day, it’s because we fucked up, did something stupid, or need to get something off our chest.”

  “Hell, when I fucked up with Morgan, I stayed at my place,” Lincoln says as he tips his beer to his lips, raising his brow at me.

  “Says the bar owner. You have as much liquor at your place as you do here,” I say and toss back the rest of my drink.

  “I heard the comment you made to Morgan. You fuck things up with Rory already?”

  “I didn’t fuck shit up. She managed to do that all on her own,” I growl pushing my empty drink toward Lincoln. “Refill, please.”

  “You’ve been seeing her since February and never mentioned her to any of us. I only stumbled upon the news when I attended a gala meeting with you.”

  “There was no point in saying anything. We hung out a few times,” I reply, avoiding the glare my best friend is shooting in my direction. He knows me too well. He knew the moment I flirted with her at the meeting. Rory pulled something out of me no one else was ever capable of doing.

  “Who are you bullshitting? You don’t hang out with anyone a few times. You liked this chick. I could tell by the way you watched her last week, your eyes never left her from the moment you walked into the fundraiser,” Lincoln interjects.

  I lift an eyebrow at him. “She’s married,” I blurt out.

  Jamie chokes on the mouthful of beer he just swallowed. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  “You heard me. She’s married with a kid.”

  Lincoln slides my drink across the bar.

  “This shit just got interesting,” Jamie murmurs.

  “You’re telling me.” I lift the cold tumbler to my lips, taking a mouthful.

  “Care to share?” Lincoln asks.

  Shaking my head in disbelief. “I don’t even know where to begin. I met her at Aces back in February, she was out with coworkers. She’s a pediatric emergency room doctor at Mount Sinai Kravis, working a shit ton of hours, so seeing her was always difficult.”

  My fingers rub the condensation on the glass. “Everything was going great. We met before work for coffee, she agreed to go to dinner with me. We texted a lot and spoke on the phone when we could.”

  “Get to the part where she’s married and has a kid.” Jamie lifts his beer to his lips, taking a pull. He tips his bottle in my direction. “We need to hear the good shit.”

  Shoving my shoulder into his, “You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

  Jamie lifts his shoulder, “I’ve been called worse.”

  “How did you find out Rory’s married?” Lincoln asks.

  “This morning while I was on my run in Central Park, I stumbled upon the perfect family, who was also running in the park. When I first noticed her, I stood back and watched. She was on the bench by herself. After she walked out of my apartment last week, I didn’t know if I should approach her or not.”

  I turn to face Jamie. “Good thing I didn’t ’cause after a few minutes, a guy pushing a baby in a stroller jogged up to her. There before my very own eyes, Rory stood with her husband who was standing with his hands on the stroller with their daughter.”

  “Oh, shit,” Jamie interjects.

  Parker sits back, momentarily rebuffed. He lowers his gaze in confusion, shaking his head.

  “What did you do?” Lincoln asks, a slight hesitation in his hawk-like eyes.

  “I made a smart-ass remark. Something along the lines of ‘So this is the side of you that you refused to show me’.”

  Lincoln takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “Has she tried to explain?”

  “She’s called and texted several times, but I refuse to hear her lies.”

  Mixed feelings surge through me.

  “I was shocked as hell. All I could do was stare at Rory, then her kid, then her husband.” Pushing back against the bar, my stool glides back on the floor.

  Standing, I toss back the remainder of my drink. “I’m glad I was able to see it with my own eyes. If not, I never would have thought she was capable of this.”

  Lincoln raises his hands as if surrendering. “If you want to see where this thing was going between you, and you don’t want any regrets later, I say you give her the opportunity to explain. If you don’t, then, oh well. It’s either your loss, or your gain. Only you can make that decision. I just hope you make the right one.”

  “Lincoln, always the level-headed friend. You sure know how to offer advice and help fix other people’s relationships, yet last year you almost destroyed your own,” I sneer, my lips thin with anger.

  Jamie’s hand smacks me on the back of the head before I could even attempt to stop it. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “She called you immediately after it happened. You said she texted, as well. Obviously, she cares about you and she wants to explain,” Jamie replies.

  “Explain what? She’s married! She fucked me last weekend, and then rolled out of my bed the next morning to head home to her husband and kid,” I growl, glaring at Lincoln, my temper uncontrollable.

  Rage boils under my skin. Molten lava flows through my veins where blood once flowed. Curses fall from my mouth.

  “Things may not always be as they appear. If you care about her, then give her the opportunity to explain herself,” Lincoln’s voice was firm and exact.

  Lincoln’s words don’t register to my furious senses, however, his concerned gaze swings over to me.

  “Before you regret something, give yourself a few days to calm down,” Lincoln’s expression grew serious.

  Turning, I walk out of the bar before I say or do something I may regret, like punching my friends in the face. As much as I want to forget I ever met Rory, a small part of me wants to hear what she has to say for herself.

  That won’t be today, though, I need some time to myself. Disconnecting from Rory is definitely what I need to do to get my head on straight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rory

  A week has passed since my encounter with Christian in the park. I’ve left numerous voicemails and text messages throughout the week, all of which have gone unanswered.

  I hurt Christian.

  I pushed him away the morning after we made love.

  Him seeing Brandon and me in the park with Leah a week later had to appear like I had the picture-perfect family.

  He probably thinks I had an affair with him.

  Picking my cell phone up off the table, I send Christian another text.

  Rory: Please talk to me.

  I wait a few minutes to see if he replies. When he doesn’t, I tap his name saved in my favorites, dialing his number. After four rings, his voicemail picks up.

  “Christian, it’s me. Will you please call me back? I need to explain. I don’t want to talk about this over the phone, I’d prefer to talk in person. Please call me back. Can we meet somewhere?”

  I disconnect the call before I begin to ramble.

  Leah stirs on the blanket on the floor where she was napping. “Come on, princess, how about Mommy gets you in a clean diaper.” Leaning down, I gather my daughter in my arms, walking into the nursery.

  I don’t want to run anymore, certainly not from Christian. Moving on with Christian doesn’t mean that I’m leaving Keith behind. It simply means I’m living. Keith would want me to live. He would want me to be happy.

  Knowing this, I have to make Christian listen to me. I just need to figure out a way to do that.

  Before I change my mind, I lift my fist and bang against his door. “Christian, open up, please.”

  The deadbolt clicks, and the door opens. Christian lifts his head to look at me and his eyes are so angry, so dark, so hurt. My heart seizes in this very moment. I hurt enough for the both of us. I never wanted someone to hurt as bad as I do. I want to pull him close and tell him everything will be okay. But I can’t because I don’t know if they will.

  The look
in his eyes breaks my heart. I am responsible for hurting him. If only I was honest with him.

  He leans against the door, his muscular arm holding the door open. He stands shirtless, sweat glistens on his exposed chest. Squeezing my eyes closed, I remember the feel of his hard chest and how delicious he felt against my breasts two weeks ago. A towel hangs across his right shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” he practically growls at me, then wipes the sweat from his face.

  His hair is disheveled, as if he’s run his hands through it a thousand times in frustration. It’s not his usual styled look I’m used to seeing.

  “Please let me explain.” I manage to get out, praying he doesn’t shut the door in my face.

  “There’s nothing to explain, I saw everything I needed to see,” his voice is cold and disconnected.

  “I promise you that it’s not what you think you saw. Can I come in?” Hearing how angry he is, my mind is racing, leaving me without hope.

  “Does your husband know you’re here, or is he home with your child?” he sneers.

  I gaze at him in despair. “My husband,” my voice wavers and a slight chuckle escapes because he has no idea. I swallow the despair in my throat. “I told you, it’s not what you think.”

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Christian says frostily.

  Gulping down the fear, I bite down on my bottom lip and tell him the truth.

  “My husband is dead, Christian. The man you saw is my best friend, my daughter’s godfather.” I try to hide my inner misery from his probing stare.

  The moment I speak of Keith and Leah, his expression changes into someone who looks like they have been struck in the face.

  His broad shoulders rise and fall as he breathes hard. “Come again?” Christian’s face is bleak with sorrow the moment he processes what I said.

  Guilt and selfishness overwhelm me. I did this to Christian. My lies, my vagueness about my life. I hurt him. If only I would have been honest with him from the start, I wouldn’t be standing in his doorway pleading for him to explain.

  I once saw a quote, “The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets. The prettiest eyes have cried the most tears and the kindest, purest hearts have felt the most pain.” No truer words have been spoken. No one knows, especially if you hide it from the world. If you only allow people to see what you want, your life becomes a charade of sorts. I allow people to see what I want them to. In this very moment, I wish there was a rewind button I could push allowing Christian to see me…. the real me.

  “You heard me. It’s not what you think.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christian

  Stepping aside, I open my door, allowing Rory to come in. She walks over to the couch and sits, pulling her knees against her chest.

  Rory dropped a bomb on me, one I never expected. In my mind, I painted the image of Rory with a husband and a child. Never did I stop and think beyond my own interpretation of what I saw in the park. She reached out to me multiple times trying to explain and I was too damn stubborn to listen. What the hell. Who does that?

  I narrow my eyes at her because she may be telling the truth. Sitting on the chair across from her, I lean my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands under my chin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know where this was going? If nothing was to become of us, why would I expose my daughter to a relationship that had no future?”

  A million questions bounce around in my head. I don’t know where to start, so I go with the simplest one. “What’s her name?”

  “Leah.” Rory’s expression is grim as I watch her.

  “How old is she?”

  “Nine months. She’ll be a year in October,” she whispers. Her breasts rise and fall under her labored breathing.

  “When did your husband die?”

  She looks down at the floor, taking a deep breath until she is strong enough to raise her head to meet my eyes.

  “April, last year.” A flash of loneliness stabs at my heart. She lost her husband before her child was even born, no woman should have to endure that.

  “Why did you walk out of my apartment after the gala?”

  She was trembling when she responds. “Fear.”

  “You need to give me more, Rory.”

  Tears slowly find their way down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what to do with the feelings I have for you?”

  Standing, I move across to the couch, pulling Rory into my arms. “So you thought pushing me away was the better option, rather than telling me how you feel?”

  I walked into this relationship with Rory with my heart wide open. From the moment I met her, I knew she was different.

  Rory pulls back, cupping my chin in her hands. “I didn’t know how to tell you I was married before. I made a promise to myself I would not be one of those women who parade men in and out their daughter’s life. I never had intentions of dating. Then you came along and flipped my world upside down. You made me feel again.”

  “I knew the night I met you, you had a story. Your eyes told me you had secrets, when you wouldn’t.”

  “What do you mean, my eyes told you?”

  “I saw it at Aces. You were okay staring at me from a distance, but when I approached your table, your whole demeanor changed. Your body language became defensive. It’s not the Rory I’ve come to know.

  “You had fear in your eyes when I was close to you. Your body would react to my proximity, despite the battle you fought not wanting to acknowledge it.”

  She nods her head. “How… how did you know?”

  My shoulders rise, “I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s just how I interpreted your behavior.”

  “Do you care?” Rory asks in a shy voice. “Does it bother you that I was married before?”

  “No.” My fingers dance gracefully over her arm. “Want to know why?”

  “Why?”

  “We all have a past. Your past is what made you the woman you are today, and I find the woman sitting here amazing and sexy as all hell.”

  I reach out, lacing my fingers with hers. “Can you tell me what happened?” I whisper.

  Lifting her head from my chest, I look at the sorrow in her emerald eyes. I tighten my arms around her and lean down, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

  “What do you want to know?” her fingers tense in my grasp.

  “Everything,” my voice breaks.

  Her lips press together, sheer agony twisting on her face.

  “My husband was killed,” she replies in a low, tormented voice.

  Her words are a punch in the chest. I pull her tightly against my chest as she breaks down, tears pouring out of her eyes. She falls apart while I hold her. My hand rubs softly up and down her arm consoling her.

  “When I heard the knocking at my door in the middle of the night. I knew something was wrong. I just knew it. It was like I had a sick sense of foreboding. Everything changed that night. I changed.”

  My mind finally pieces together the fear Rory has. The one man she loved is no longer here for her. He was taken too soon and left her with a child to raise on her own. She fears loving again because it opens herself up for either fear of losing them or being hurt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rory

  April 2017

  A loud noise awakens me from my sleep. It takes me a few moments to realize where the sound is coming from. Thump, thump, thump, I hear from downstairs. Wiping my eyes, still half asleep, I wait to see if I hear it again. My shift ended a few hours ago, I haven’t been sleeping that long. A few moments later, thump, thump, thump echoes through my quiet house again. Irritated and annoyed, I toss the blankets back, throwing my feet over the side of the mattress. Slowly and still half asleep, I grab my robe from the chair in the corner, tying it tightly around my waist and make my way down the steps.

  When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I flick the light switch on the wall, illuminating my living room. As I near the door, I hear my ce
ll phone ringing from upstairs in my bedroom.

  The knocking continues on my door. Red and blue lights flicker across the walls of my living room.

  Glancing at the red illuminated numbers of the cable box, it reads twelve-thirty. Confused, I peek out the window, unsure who would be knocking on my door this late. Two highway patrol cars are parked in front of my house in the street.

  With shaky hands, I open the front door. Two uniformed police officers, both male, stand on my front porch and another man stands next to them clutching a Bible in his hands.

  They all stare at me for a long moment before anyone speaks. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to wake you,” one officer addresses.

  A black car with flashing red and blue lights on the dashboard barrels up my driveway, screeching to a halt. The driver-side door flies open, and Brandon rushes out. He looks at the officers, then directs his eyes toward me, running up the steps of the porch. No one speaks for a moment, the silence is deafening.

  Every officer’s spouse dreads this moment. Officers in uniform don’t show up at twelve-thirty in the morning for no reason. Keith isn’t home tonight. He’s on duty.

  Brandon stands before me, dressed all in black with his vest covering his torso. These men did not want to be knocking on my door any more than I wanted to have them standing before me. My mind processes the scene before me. They’re here because of Keith.

  Dear Lord, my stomach tightened, bile rising in my throat. Please let him be okay. Tears blind my eyes.

  “No.” Shaking my head back and forth.

  Stepping back from the door, away from them, I continue to shake my head. I stare at the two officers, the clergyman, and Brandon as they stand there quietly.

  I stare at my best friend’s face, his eyes wild with panic. His eyes darken with fear and pain. “Rory, I need to talk to you.” He never breaks eye contact with me. A sensation of intense sickness and desolation sweeps over me.