The Best Is Yet to Come

by Bella Andre

  There was no way she could lie to herself and call this a hometown fling. Not when being with Calvin was so much more than that. It was why she'd stayed away from him for so long. Because she'd known that if she ever let her defenses down, he'd be right there, stealing even more of her heart than he already had.

  But hadn't she been strong for years? Hadn't it eaten through her soul to be that strong for so long? She'd spent so long worrying about complications. Couldn't she have one more night with him? One final night where he was hers and she was his?

  She'd have to be strong again soon, she knew that. But with her grandmother in the hospital, with her career suddenly having more to do with yarn than Fortune 100 business development, with Calvin's eyes seeing things no one else ever had, as her fingers curled with tension into the sweater in her lap--suddenly all she could think was, One stitch at a time. No looking forward. No worrying about making it to the end.

  She looked into his eyes, held his gaze, and let him see all her desire, all her longing. "I'm here now." For one more night.

  A second later, Calvin was lifting her off the couch, her knitting sliding off her lap onto the cushions. "I don't want to waste one more second with you." And then he was making good on his words by kissing her as he took her back to his bedroom.

  His mouth was magic, the first kiss he'd ever given her when they were teenagers having ruined her for anyone else. One small kiss was all it took for her knees to go weak, but there was nothing small about the way he was kissing her now. With such passion. With such possession. With so much sensuality, so much desire, that it turned her inside out--and made it impossible for her to hold back just how much she needed him. Just how much she wanted to possess him too.

  Once inside, he pushed the door shut with his shoulder, then turned them so that her back was to the door. As she slid down his body, onto her feet, every inch of contact caused a slow burn across her body.

  "I swore I was going to do this slow," he said as he pulled her shirt off, along with her bra. "I told myself I was going to have some control this time."

  But Sarah was sick to death of control.

  "Please," she whispered as she helped him slide off her jeans and panties. "Love me, Calvin. Just love me."

  His dark eyes dilated to black, and then her hands were tugging at his pants, at his boxers and T-shirt. And after he quickly took care of protection then put his hands on her hips and said, "Wrap your legs around me," it was the most natural thing in the world for her to trust that he would hold her.

  To trust that he wouldn't let her fall, no matter what.

  And then he was pushing into her and she was opening up for him, wanting all of him. She buried her head in the crook of his shoulder as he filled her so completely that her breath left her lungs in a whoosh.

  She lifted her head, had to look at him, had to say, "Calvin."

  He held her body still around his, his arms strong. Steady as he said, "I love you."

  That was all it took for the dam to break. She'd never felt so wild, so strong, so good. Nothing mattered but how good he made her feel, where there was no past, no future.

  Only a stunningly beautiful present. One where release came roaring through her, so powerful, so breathlessly good, that it was all she could do just to hold on and let pleasure stream through her.

  But even as she came completely apart, he held on to his control, his muscles, his tendons tight as he gripped her hips tight and helped her squeeze out every ounce of bliss as she rode him, rode the pleasure he was giving her. The pleasure that only he could give her. The same pleasure she wanted to give him. Because she craved him, craved everything about him. Not only the sound, the feel, the wonder of loving him, but also his smiles, his laughter, the way he loved so deeply. So truly.

  And then he was moving them to his bed, not letting them part, not letting anything come between them, not even air, as he ran kisses down across her temple, down over her cheekbones, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose.

  With each sweet press of his lips against her skin, she felt herself coming alive, inch by sensual inch. His body was a wonder, his shoulders and arms corded and rippling with muscles, his chest broad, his abs defined by the deep shadows between them, all of it tapering down to slim hips.

  "I can't believe I'm here. With you." Nothing had ever been this good, nothing could ever be as good as the incredibly sensual feel of his body inside her, his heat over her, his arms around her, his gaze so full of love as he looked into her eyes. "How do you do this to me? How do you make me feel so much?"

  His low chuckle was full of sensuality. Full of such deep desire--and love--that she didn't know how to take it all in. "My sweet Sarah."

  No one but Calvin had ever called her sweet. As far as she knew, no one else had ever thought it.

  He'd given her so much already, and yet she was still so desperate for him. Desperate to run her hands over his chest, his shoulders, his back. Desperate to lean up from the pillows to press hot kisses over his tanned skin. Desperate to nip, to taste, to wrap her legs more tightly around him as he grew impossibly, wonderfully, bigger inside of her.

  And then he was taking her hands in his, threading their fingers together, linking them in every single way, before lifting her arms to the sides of her head.

  "Sarah."

  That was all it took. The whisper of her name. The way he was looking into her eyes, giving her everything inside his heart, holding nothing back. And it was so much more than she'd ever thought to have again. More than she'd ever dreamed was possible.

  She was lost to emotion, lost to pleasure, lost to Calvin, when everything stopped--her breath, her heart, her thoughts--as she came apart beneath him. And then he was calling out her name as he found his own explosive release.

  She couldn't open her eyes, couldn't move a muscle. Not when she was still reeling from the passion--and the emotion--between them. But then she felt him shift as he brushed a lock of damp hair away from her face.

  "I've never seen anything, or anyone, as beautiful as you."

  And she had never felt as beautiful as she did when she was in his arms. But before she could find the breath to say the words aloud, sleep came at her like a runaway freight train, leaving her only barely aware of his words of love, of his lifting her and sliding her beneath the covers, warm and safe against his body before she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sarah woke up alone at two a.m. The bedroom was dark, and all she could hear was the slow push of waves on the shore outside.

  Where was Calvin?

  Slipping out of his bed, she wrapped his robe around her. Making sure to keep her footfalls quiet so that she wouldn't wake Jordan, she went down the stairs and was looking into the kitchen when she heard the creak of a chair out on the porch.

  She pushed open the front door, and the cold fall air hit her as she stepped outside. He looked surprised to see her and then glad, so glad that her heartbeat kicked into double time.

  "Come here, sweetheart."

  He pulled her onto his lap, covering them with a nearby blanket. He settled her more firmly, and it was the most natural thing in the world for her to lay her head against his shoulder.

  Sitting on the porch, curled up safe and warm in his arms, looking out at the autumn moon, she felt as though she was in a home she'd thought existed only in fairy tales. She wanted to sink into it, wanted to let herself believe that she really was home. Wanted to pretend that he could make her dinner every night and she could teach his sister to knit, and then later, when the sun fell and the moon rose, she could lose herself in his kisses, his heat.

  And yet, even as he pulled her closer, she knew she couldn't let herself get used to this feeling. Because Summer Lake wasn't home for her, no matter how good it felt to be with Calvin. "Why did you get out of bed?"

  "It doesn't matter." And then his mouth was on hers, demanding and giving all at the same time, and for a few long moments, she wasn't able to do any
thing but submit to his need--and her own.

  It took every last ounce of self-control to pull away. "It matters, Calvin," she said softly. "Talk to me. Please. You wouldn't be out here if something wasn't wrong. Tell me."

  "I'd rather tell you what's right. You're here."

  She smiled, even though she knew he was stalling. "You weren't sleeping?"

  He shifted beneath her, and she could feel his discomfort at her question. "No." He looked out at the lake, anywhere but at her.

  "Why?"

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Old demons. That's all they are."

  She reached a hand up to his face, wishing she could take his pain away. "Is it us?"

  "I told you our breakup was behind us, and I meant it."

  She knew what it had to be, then. "It's your parents, isn't it? You still think about what happened to them, don't you? About what happened to you? How could you not?"

  His leg muscles were so tight beneath her hips she was almost afraid to move. "Sarah." Her name was a warning, and her chest squeezed as she realized the depth of the pain he must be in, deep enough that he was afraid to share it with her. Had he shared his lingering grief, his suffering, with anyone? But she already knew the answer, didn't she?

  Thanking God that she was actually here for once when he needed her, she wrapped her arms around him--because for all her fears about being with him, and despite the fact that she knew forever was never going to be theirs--she still wanted so badly to give him comfort, to smother his demons with love until they couldn't live and breathe inside of him anymore.

  Hugging Calvin was like hugging a brick wall, but she didn't let go, couldn't let go of him. Over and over, he'd been there for her, had helped her and her family. So if holding him here in the dark was her only way to give him comfort right now, it was what she would do.

  "I still dream about it," he finally said in a low voice. "Walking into the trailer and seeing my dad there. I swear I knew something was wrong before I even opened the door."

  She didn't loosen her hold on him, not even at the stark pain in his voice, so at odds with the sound of the waves lapping at the lakeshore in front of his porch.

  "I knew he was taking my mom's death hard. I knew he was having a hell of a time trying to take care of a newborn. I knew he was drinking more than he usually did. But I didn't know he could ever do something like that."

  Sarah could feel Calvin's heartbeat racing against her chest. She wanted to tell him he didn't have to say anything else, that he didn't need to relive it all for her. But something told her that what he needed was, strangely, just the opposite. She could feel him opening up word by word, sentence by sentence. And it meant more to her than anything ever had before that he trusted her with his pain.

  "There was blood everywhere. So red and thick it looked like someone had broken a ketchup bottle all over the floor, the walls, the couch, with bits and chunks of something. I threw up. Right there in the middle of it all, I threw up."

  Oh God. She'd thought she knew the story, but she hadn't been inside his trailer that weekend--and he hadn't ever gone into the details of what he'd seen. She hadn't been brave enough to ask either. She shivered at the awful picture and pulled herself in closer to him. She could tell by the rigidity of his body beneath hers that he was lost in his memories of that night.

  "I'm so sorry." Sarah couldn't stop her tears from falling. "You were so young. You should never have had to see something like that. Should never have had to live through something like that."

  His eyes were on her, but she didn't think he saw her. Instead, he was seeing his old trailer, bloody from his father's suicide.

  "I don't even know how I got to Jordan, how I made it through that mess to her crib. But she was crying. And from that moment on, I vowed to do whatever it took to take care of her. Anything."

  Jordan was why he had stayed at Summer Lake. Not just because he loved the town. Not just because he felt he owed the people here a lifelong debt for helping him when he needed it most.

  It was all for his sister.

  Calvin wasn't just a good man. He was a magnificent man. And she would never ask him to choose her over the welfare of his sister.

  Summer Lake was a place where people took care of each other, where Dorothy watched over Jordan as a grandmother would, where Sarah's own mother and grandmother showed their love with yarn and hugs and cookies. This was exactly the right place for Jordan to be, so Sarah would never ask him to leave this small town. Even though her heart was going to break a hundred times over when she left without him at her side.

  But right now all that mattered was finding a way to help him heal, to clear away the darkness from his soul so that he could sleep through the night again, so that lingering pain didn't hide behind his smile, pulling him down when he deserved to soar.

  "Who knows what you've just told me--about what you saw, about how bad it really was?"

  "The police chief. The paramedics. They kept it quiet. People knew my father shot himself, but none of them dared ask me to paint them a picture."

  "So you've never seen a therapist?"

  "No."

  "You just picked up the pieces and moved on?"

  She felt him tense again. "I did what I had to do."

  "But I saw how angry you were," she said softly. "That first weekend when I came back from college after you called to tell me what happened, you were vibrating with it."

  "I told you, I'm not upset with you anymore."

  "I know you're not." How could she make him see what she was really trying to say? "But before we had our blowup over Jordan's diaper, you were already angry. And how could you not be? If your father had given one single thought to the kind of life he was leaving his kids to deal with, then you wouldn't have had to--"

  His hands came around her waist fast and hard, lifting her off his lap so that he could stand up and leave. Deep, heavy regret pulled at her, made her wish she could have kept her mouth shut. For so long, she'd been a master at holding everything inside. And now, the one time she let her real thoughts and feelings loose, look what happened. She hurt the very person she never wanted to hurt again.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

  But instead of walking away from her the way she expected him to, he lifted his stormy gaze back to hers. "How could I have been angry with my father? He was depressed. He couldn't control what he did."

  Sarah had a big decision to make. She could give in and stop talking about his father and maybe salvage some of the night. Or she could risk the fragile bond they'd just begun to form again and push him all the way to where he needed to go.

  But the truth was, there wasn't any decision to make. Because she already knew she'd give everything, anything she possibly could, to help him heal.

  Tonight, out on his porch, she saw all the shades of the boy she'd known... and the man she was discovering. Calvin Vaughn wasn't just the incredibly great guy she'd adored as a girl. He wasn't just the protector of his little sister. He wasn't just mayor of a town that he deeply cared for. He wasn't just sexy, funny, loving, wasn't just a man who made her heart race every time he was near.

  He was also a man who had been working like crazy every minute of his life to contain a deep well of anger and sadness and pain.

  Going to where he stood staring out at the lake, she was shaking as she pressed herself against his back. "You were such a great son, but you had already been dealing with your father's depression for years. Isn't it one thing to be empathetic with someone who's got problems--and another thing entirely when they take an action that's guaranteed to hurt you? With everyone else, you can be Mr. Hero, swooping in to save your sister and the town, but even though you really are a hero, it doesn't mean you can't take some time to deal with your own demons. So that you can finally move on." She rested her cheek in the center of his broad back, felt his heart beating strong and fast. "You can pretend with everyone else, but you don't have to pretend with me. You've
always taken care of everyone around you. You've looked so strong for so many years. But has anyone ever taken care of you the way you need?"

  "The town was there for me." His words were raw, rough. "Henry from the general store used to send over packages from out of the blue--pipes would be delivered just in time to fix bathroom plumbing, paint cans would show up right when the front porch was peeling. He even gave me new windows after a tree limb broke through during a nasty storm, saying it was part of an order that his guys had screwed up for someone else and what were they going to do with one window. Catherine would babysit. Your mom was constantly dropping off food."

  Yes, she could see that so many people had helped him with the details. But had anyone been there to heal his heart?

  She should have been there.

  *

  As Calvin slowly resurfaced from the darkness, he realized Sarah was standing soft and warm against his back. Out there on the porch, it felt like she was trying to break through his armor. Armor he had barely acknowledged he'd covered himself with for the past ten years. Everyone had long ago assumed he was over his parents' deaths. No one knew he continued to have nightmares about finding his father dead on the carpet.

  Not until tonight.

  He turned around to come face-to-face with the woman he loved. He needed to take her into his arms to find his balance. Even though she'd just sent him careening.

  Hadn't he known all along that it would come to this--that letting her in, even part of the way, meant she wouldn't stop until she'd yanked off every last layer of armor?

  This armor had seen him through the worst moments of his life. When she'd been nowhere to be found. But it was really, really heavy.

  And he was sick of wearing it.

  Faith. He had faith in Sarah. Faith that her caring about him this much meant that she wouldn't just be here for him tonight--that despite having told him she wasn't going to stay, in the end she just might choose to stay forever this time.

  Without saying another word, he picked her up and walked back into the house with her.

  "Calvin?"

  He didn't speak until they were back in his bedroom. "Thank you for helping."