Everything to Lose (Moonlight Dating Series #2)

by Owens, Natalie G.

  Sod him.

  She paused and took a deep, shaky breath to brace herself, then made herself say those last treacherous words, almost as an afterthought—“But you’re free to leave if you wish.”

  “So it’s like that, huh?”

  She tucked her heart and soul away—away from her being—and returned his glare without a blink. “Yes. It’s like that.”

  The anger continued to bubble inside them until it filled every square inch of the room, of the whole house until it bulged at the seams, unable to contain them both and their broken promises.

  It would have been best to end the conversation there. She’d done enough damage, but she could take everything back if she chose.

  She didn’t. He wouldn’t.

  “In that case, I’d better pack my bags.”

  “Fine.”

  His eyes shuttered. “That settles it, then.”

  He drifted out of her life the following morning, like a paper boat on the narrow canal of rain gathered heavily under a sidewalk. After that day, this house had become the hot drought after all the paper boats had ended in garbage and all the rain was gone, dried up by a beating hot sun.

  It was an empty shell. She felt like an empty shell hovering about the hollow rooms, a ghost of her former self.

  She was so lost in the gloom of her reverie that she jumped when a cool, calloused thumb lightly grazed her cheek and lingered on her sensitive flesh.

  Electricity flowed through her, forged an instinctive connection between her mind and her treasonous body. The softest moan of pure delight surged inside her, up her diaphragm, and taunted her vocal cords. Thankfully, no sound exited her lips.

  Idiot.

  She looked down and found herself holding a spoon in her fist, both hands poised on the cool granite by the empty mugs. Steam rose from the kettle. The water had boiled.

  Good sense finally caught up with her and she drew back abruptly from his cataclysmic touch. It horrified her that she wanted his touch. Wanted to feel.

  “You sure don’t make it easy on me, do you?” he whispered.

  She pursed her lips while he regarded her with a candid look. Full of regret.

  Not the cheerful, charming every man’s man that she knew. People loved him for that. Dane was level-headed, always in control of his emotions.

  With the exception of that one time, the day it all came crashing down. For as long as she lived, she’d never forget the coldness in his eyes, the finality in his voice. He’d let her see the darkness inside him. The darkness he’d never trusted her enough to share with her.

  She couldn’t be that kind of woman for him, the one who let him have his secrets or never questioned his motives. The one without a care in the world.

  “Almost done here,” she said a little too loudly when he wouldn’t do more than stand still, his hand an inch from hers.

  He started at her tone, as though she’d snapped her fingers in his face. “Sure thing.”

  He stepped away. Perhaps he was afraid she’d lock him out if he didn’t.

  She looked up at him then, held his eyes and knew…

  No one could be more terrified than her.

  He returned to the table, following her movements as she fussed around the kitchen and tried to calm her nerves.

  “Can’t believe how cold it is.” What else could she speak of when any discussion of substance lurked on unstable territory? Weather was good. It was safe.

  “Darn tootin’.” He sighed contentedly as the heat inside the house enveloped them. “Damn, feels good in here.”

  She couldn’t help smiling at his Texas drawl. It was a pillar of his roots planted during his childhood on a Texas ranch – an aspect of his life he mostly kept to himself, like a possessive lover. Although he often tried to suppress it under layers of manufactured corporate finesse, she could see right through his glib sophistry. It was all for show.

  Do your fancy friends in Seattle like your country twang at all? Or perhaps you don’t ever show them who you really are, she wanted to say but held back like she often did.

  The only time she’d let the devil rule her was at the end of their relationship. It was simpler to go with the flow.

  “Steve and Rob next door may find your accent humorous,” she quipped.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Again, she skirted the truth. Perhaps they both wore masks then to hide themselves from each other.

  “You’d probably adapt like you always do.” She said this like it was a bad way to be. Like she disliked him for it.

  Watch that tongue.

  He visibly flinched while she stifled a curse.

  “You never complained,” he said, his eyes alive with something dark and intimidating.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  It wasn’t that he tried to be fake, but it was like he had an alter ego, another person residing inside him who begged to be heard. Perhaps it all stemmed from a deep-rooted will to succeed. That part of him had always amazed her… how he could split himself into two different people at will. Two halves of one whole, but somehow, they didn’t fit together. A key piece remained missing.

  He gave her a small smile tinged with sadness. “Yes, you did. And I reckon you’re right.” Contrite, apologetic.

  She walked over to the table and handed him his cappuccino, taking extra care to avoid his fingers as he accepted the mug with an appreciative nod.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sugar’s right over there, in the usual spot.” She indicated the little apple-shaped jar in the center of the table.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Sitting down across from him, she blew into her mug and tweaked her nose when the rising heat tickled her nostrils with the strong scent of the cocoa and cinnamon mixture she’d dusted her coffee with.

  She chanced a surreptitious look at her ex-husband as they sipped their beverages in silence. His mussed chestnut hair

  fell over limpid blue eyes, and he looked good enough to eat. A big man with a body naturally built to work land, not to languish on desks, poring over paperwork and computer screens. To watch him lean over the table to get his sugar, his strong arms straining through his sweater, made her weak at the knees.

  She pined for him. Yearned for him, for the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands to roam over her, and his body to warm and fill her. It was a dangerous thing to remember a rogue lover’s touch. It made one desire the unattainable.

  But today she didn’t want to be amazed by this man. She didn’t want remember...

  Fat chance.

  How many times had she called herself an idiot in the past half-hour? Make that one more, she mused.

  His unusual taciturnity made her jittery. Something rode his mind. The sooner he spoke, the quicker she could put him out the door and out of her sight.

  “Spill the beans.”

  “Huh?”

  “You want to tell me something. That’s why you came. Drop the act, for once. Please?”

  She waited through his hesitation.

  “You’re right,” he caved. “I wasn’t entirely honest when you asked me why I came. Fact is, I had to see you. I’ve been worried about you, and I’m sorry for not calling you—” he finally started.

  He stopped when she raised her hand and shook her head.

  She had encouraged him to speak, but this was too much. It was a can of worms she wouldn’t open. “Please, Dane. Haven’t we hurt each other enough? What’s done is done.”

  “Lissy,” he insisted. “I’ve had all this time by myself, all this time to think about what’s important and what ain’t worth shit. I came to realize that I had everything I ever wanted and I was stupid enough to let it go.” Damn him.

  “You know that’s not the point. The point is that I wanted one thing and you wanted another. I should have spoken up a lot earlier.” So many should ’aves, would ’aves.

  He seemed to unravel before her – his face revealed so m
uch pain and confusion.

  The floodgates of Hell were opening wide and fast and she was stuck to the ground, with no means of escape, waiting for the first fiery flames to consume her in everlasting damnation.

  “Please...listen to me. I miss you so much it hurts. Nothing makes sense any more.”

  An empty shell—I know all about that.

  “When I get my morning coffee, I expect to see you right there with me in the kitchen. At lunchtime, I have to stop myself from calling you just to hear your voice.” He started to reach for her hand, but then seemed to think better of it. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “And at night… at night it’s the worst. I reach for you in my bed, but all I find is space. I miss you. I miss this house—any house, if you’re in it. I miss us.”

  There it was. He had ripped his heart out and laid it at her feet.

  She couldn’t take it. What could she possibly do with that kind of admission?

  Stunned and speechless, she simply sat there, staring at him. Of all the roiling emotions inside her, the most overpowering was the anger that once more came to the fore.

  Yes, anger was less toxic than guilt.

  “So now you decide you miss me, and you fly across the Atlantic to tell me all of this. But what about me? Have you given one tiny thought to all the heartache I’ve had to go through? You think about how you feel, what you want to do. But let me tell you something, it’s not all about you. Things just don’t work that way!”

  Hurt crept into Dane’s eyes. “I messed up and I can’t take that back, no matter what I do. I need you, Lissy, and leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. I want to make it up to you, get things back to the way they used to be.”

  Her entire body was now reduced to a quivering mass of seething energy. “Don’t call me Lissy anymore. You have no right. Do you hear me? No right!”

  “I’m so sorry, but this can’t be it. You have to give us a chance.”

  The blind rage ebbed a little but left a vacuum that was quickly replaced by a perilous sense of hopelessness and despair. “Why? Tell me, why did this happen to us?”

  She peeled that question off from the depths of her gut, jerked the band-aid from the throbbing wound in her heart. The emotion was all bare for him to see and trample on.

  She sounded like she was whining, but she was sadly beyond any sort of reason. Her sanity had flown to Timbuktu with a one-way ticket.

  “Why?” she screamed. Her nerves teetered on the brink of something utterly terrifying.

  The mug felt slick under her tightened fingers. If she added any more pressure, the handmade ceramic would surely shatter in her hand. Her head was a weighty mass that burdened her, drained her. All he gave her was an anguished look that made things worse.

  “I don’t know why you’re telling me this right now and not before we made a whole mess of things… I just can’t…”

  She bit back tears and stood abruptly. Somehow, the noise the chair made as it grated against the tiled floor exasperated her even further. She hated the chair. She hated this kitchen. Hell, she hated this whole house!

  “I just can’t deal with more of this, dammit! Can’t you see? When you left you showed me I wasn’t good enough for you. That you didn’t want me. That you didn’t want us to be anymore. All I ever wanted was your love, your child, to have a family, to love you back with all my h—heart. But I didn’t stop you from leaving. Perhaps we’re meant to be… apart.”

  Her voice broke, her throat burned. She swallowed and what came down felt like acid that corroded her insides.

  “We let each other go. Now you’re a consultant and I’m an architect. That’s all we have. Our stupid careers.”

  At the last word, she grabbed her mug and flung it with all her strength against the wall. In this violent reaction she transferred all of her aggravation, all of her pain.

  She watched, transfixed, as the dregs of the coffee left brown, streaky stains on the mossy green wall and pieces of colorful ceramic scattered on the pristine tiled floor. Strips of sunlight hit the cheerful bits through the window blinds. Dust floated in the air above them and she had a wild wish that she could be one of those specks – suspended, weightless, mindless.

  Tears fell free. Mortified, she turned and ran upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, praying to find some peace.

  But she should have known he’d follow her. That he wouldn’t let go. Her heart sank when she heard the door creak gently, followed by the sound of feet pattering on the carpet toward her. She huddled on the floor, her head buried between her knees that she hugged to her chest in a tight embrace.

  “Go away.”

  She sensed him close, crouching down, but she was too much of a chicken to raise her head and look him in the eyes. His warm breath teased the baby hairs at her temple, and strong fingers gently buried themselves in her hair, soothingly combing through the thick mass.

  “No,” he stated in a low voice. “I ain’t going away and I won’t leave you again. Never, even if you tell me to.”

  Blood pumped fast through her veins. All it took was the excruciating tenderness of his touch and the deep, rich timbre of his voice to yank her heartstrings out of her grasp.

  “Never.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Love surged through Dane, precious and pure. He closed his eyes and savored the way she felt under his touch.

  Fragile yet strong.

  Soft.

  He regretted none of his decisions in life but one: leaving his Lissy.

  And what made him fit to be tied was that it had been all a matter of stupid pride that meant nothing when weighed against the happiness they could have shared, if only he hadn’t been so blind and foolish...

  He'd had it made. How could he have the world and light out, just like that?

  In business he was like a pit-bull – when everyone else admitted defeat he just kept going until the wind blew in his favor. Giving up was not in his nature.

  Devil take him.

  Of all the things to gamble on, he had to put his marriage on the line when he knew more than anyone that running away never solved a goddamn thing!

  He’d seen firsthand how pride and cowardice could break the spirit. Bitterness, betrayal, resentment, abandonment – all these were the bread and butter of his past. The memories were ones he’d never burden Lissy with, because he’d never wanted to think of them himself. He wanted to push them away yet he couldn’t make a clean cut. They were a slow-acting poison he’d been carrying around all his life.

  But that pain was his own, not Lissy’s. Even some psychologists advised against reliving a traumatic event or period by talking about it.

  Justifying it to himself this way eased his mind. He just had to find a way to slay his demons and make her happy.

  Always on your terms? You know she won’t go for that again.

  He pushed his misgivings aside, silenced the Devil’s advocate.

  Minutes ticked by. He didn’t wish to speak for fear of killing the magic that weaved itself around them, but he knew he still had to make things right.

  They both owed it to themselves, for nothing in this world was set in stone, especially if the desire to have something was strong enough. Mistakes were always made, but some could be reversed.

  He held her like the anchor that she was.

  “One chance is all I ask,” he said.

  He drew a raggedy breath then slid a hand under her ponytail and found her delicate nape. When she didn’t push him away he dared to lower his lips to her hair and linger there.

  His mouth curved into a smile as an enticing waft of lavender scent tickled his nostrils.

  Her favorite shampoo.

  Inhaling sharply, he buried his face in her shiny mahogany strands.

  He loved the smell of her skin that reminded him of sprawling green fields bursting with flowers and sunshine. He loved everything about his Lissy – even when she bottled up her feelings until she exploded.

  She
leaned ever so slightly into his hand, a tiny white flag he didn’t miss.

  “Sometimes life and love don’t go together. Have you thought about that?” she said, her voice muffled through the cleft between her knees.

  He wanted to say so many things, the right things that would bind her to him.

  Where was his confidence when he needed it most?

  “Tell me I didn’t lose you forever. That there’s still hope for us.”

  His heart sank when she stiffened. The silence cut like a serrated knife that ripped into his gut.

  Finally she turned her head and looked at him. Her eyes, darkened with tears, bore into him, and he could see his own reflection in her enlarged pupils.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” she replied, her brown gaze devoid of artifice. “It’s not that we had a big fight that day, did we? All couples go through those things but we took it too far.” She sniffed and ran the back of her hand over her nose. “What happened made me think, though. We held back too much and it makes me wonder if we really knew what we were doing. I feel like I never grew up.”

  He wanted to shed all pretenses with her, strip his soul naked and put it in her safekeeping. No corporate achievement or step up the ladder had ever felt as good as being with Lissy. Why couldn’t he just let go?

  Because I don’t want to be like my father.

  “But then I guess I stopped believing in fairy tales,” she finished.

  A difficult statement, the self-same words his mother once said to him a long, long time ago.

  His heart twisted in his chest. He was pole-axed by Lissy’s admission, his emotions flung about like a gnat in a hailstorm. He’d tried so hard to be the opposite of the old man, but all he’d done was become more like him.

  Single-minded, driven only by money and results.

  Soulless.

  Absent.

  “You gotta show me, son. I’m like Missouri. Just coz you’re my flesh ’n blood din’t mean you got my respect. Git that.”

  And Dane scoffed at how all the bullshit sermons had panned out. Well, he’d shown that hypocrite, and he wasn’t done yet.

  Somewhere, someday, the old man would find out. Then Dane would take his respect and throw it in the garbage. In his face.