It all stopped. His heart, his lungs, his brain.
She stared at him, waiting for something he couldn't give her. He shook his head, while his chest caved in. He couldn't do it. He'd spent his whole life getting kicked around. Even Shay kicked him around. "You may want me back, but you're the most important person in the world to me, and I'm not that person to you."
She rushed him then, closing the distance, coming around the counter and coming at him until his back was against the refrigerator and her hands were on his face. "I'm a complete fucking idiot for ever saying that to you."
He sucked in air while she steamrolled him.
"You are that person to me. My boys are a responsibility to me. Don't get me wrong, I love them and I will defend them with my life if I have to. But you're the only one I have chosen." She was openly crying now, her hands gripping his shirt, but his hands held tight to the edge of the counter, not quite believing her words. "You are the one I want to be there when the boys are grown and gone. You are the only one I want."
He crumbled in the onslaught of her words. He caved, giving in to her as she rose up on tiptoe to press her mouth to his in a kiss that claimed him. His hands found her hair and held her there so he could kiss her back, hold onto the wave of pure bliss that pushed through every cell in his body.
They clung to each other, there in his small kitchen. His heart pounded, his hands grasped at her, keeping her close when she so easily slipped away. When she pulled back to look at him, it was with tears in her eyes, but a smile on her face.
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her back farther. "No."
She frowned up at him, not understanding.
"No, Shay, I can't. You'll leave me again and I won't survive that. I've come through so much . . ." His chest heaved and he felt like he was going to retch. "I know now where my breaking point is, and you're it. I can't."
"What? Why?" She stood there, stunned for a moment. Then her feet moved, changing tacks with her voice. "Do you need me to show up every day and choose you? I will. I'll tell you that I love you until you believe it. I need you. And I think you need me."
He broke then, tears crashing over eyelids he'd squeezed shut, fists clenching. "I can't. When you find out what I am, what I really am, you'll leave again. I won’t survive it this time."
He didn't open his eyes when she spoke.
"I know what you are." Her words were soft, but the blows weren't. He knew what she didn't. What she wouldn't be able to live with. "I love you."
"You don't know!" He yelled it loud enough to wake the neighbors. "You don't. You don't know what I did."
"Then tell me." He felt her touch his hand, grab it and pull him. He resisted despite the fact that he didn't have the strength. His body ached like he had sand running through his veins. No matter how he pulled away, she held on. "Tell me."
She'd let go if he did. So he opened his eyes and stared at her. Then he told her what he’d hid from everyone for so many years. "I ran away at sixteen."
"I know." Her words were soft.
He'd kill her with this, dash her sweet, happy hopes. "I ran away, not to. I'd been beaten, worked to the bone, and even molested by some of the people who were supposed to raise me."
She tugged at his hand.
"You know about my father, Shay. I can't give you more children." He blinked through his cloudy vision as she tugged him closer to the couch.
"I'm good, two is plenty. Also, I don't know who my father is." She returned. "I have three options. The con artist is the best one."
He tried again. "I ended up on Santa Monica Boulevard at night. I pawned my guitar, I sold everything I had, and then when I ran out of money, I sold myself. I hooked. I turned tricks for over a year." He was nearly yelling it, hoping she'd see, hoping each word would be the straw that broke her, so he could finally curl up alone and cry. Maybe some later day, he could scrape himself off his floor and go on.
She didn't see.
She tugged him to the couch next to her, hugged him, sniffled a little and only said, "Me, too."
He told her every horrible act committed against him. Every terrible thing he'd done. Each time she hugged him tighter and said the same two words.
Eventually he ran out of things to try to prod her with. His shoulders heaved, and he found himself undone in her arms, the two of them tucked back into a corner of the couch. She held him there, safer than he'd ever been, while he spewed out every awful thing he'd done, every crime he committed. Every confession was met with, "me, too."
At last, when he ran out of confessions, he whispered, "I did it for money."
She didn't reply, but he felt her nod somewhere over his head. Her hands felt gentle in his hair, even though he was collapsing into her as he waited. Her words were the barest sound on the air. She was crying even as she wrapped herself around him. "I know. And I don't know how you'll ever forgive me for what I've done. Because I did it for free."
Chapter 42
Craig woke to a pounding headache and the sweetest sense of Shay curled into him. Ignoring the puppies for just a moment, he rolled into her. The sensation of her naked skin against his was comforting and amazing all at the same time.
He'd gutted himself the night before. Said everything he could to make her go away. Now, as he propped himself up on one elbow and reached out to touch her hair, he was starting to feel whole in a way he never had before. Somehow it was far easier to forgive her the exact same sins he'd committed than it was to forgive himself. He'd come a long way on his own, he knew he was a good person now, but it had been hard to let go of a past he was more than ashamed of.
She was asleep in his bed, in his arms until he'd started to get up. Responsibility was responsibility. And it was more than that when it was a creature. Human or puppy, he was glad all the small ones in his care had it better than either he or Shay had had it.
So he slipped out of bed and pulled on pants. He was exhausted. He'd cried his eyes out, something he hadn't done but the once since he was a kid. No wonder his head pounded. Then he and Shay had been up most of the night, making love that was carnal and raw. He had nothing left to put out there, nothing left to push her away with. He watched as she rolled over softly, the covers falling away.
He loved her. All her flaws, all her faults, all her history.
Turning away from his introspection, he answered the soft whines that were getting louder as he dressed. Setting Scarlett and Gunnar free, he slid his feet into shoes and pulled on a t-shirt. That was Nashville for you; fifty degrees in the middle of winter. It would turn cold again, but today, he wore short sleeves.
He headed out the back door, hearing birds chirp and seeing a blue sky above him. He almost laughed at his goofy exuberance. There were still two dogs doing their business on his back lawn—not exactly romantic.
He was tired deep in his bones, but the dogs needed some play time. It wouldn't be long before they needed to be able to be out of the crate overnight. He was able to leave them in the backyard unattended now for short periods of time, but he usually didn’t do it in the mornings. Since those deeper barks had started coming in, he'd grown concerned about waking the neighbors.
Keeping an ear out, he went into the kitchen and made himself an industrial strength pot of coffee. He was nearly to the bottom of his first cup, sitting in the one chair he'd put out on his porch and contemplating getting a second, when Shay slid the porch door open.
Her own coffee in hand, she glided out to him looking well-loved—mussed and sated. She settled herself in his lap as it was the only place to sit. Taking what must have been her first sip, she scrunched up her face and made a gagging noise. "What is this?"
"Sludge." He grinned and took the cup from her. "Do you want me to make a pot of actual coffee for you?"
"Like I would trust you after you made that." She swatted at his shoulder and got up.
The heat of her left him and even though she was only in the kitchen, he missed her. Scarl
ett brought him a ball, dropping it at his feet, so he picked it up and threw it for her, only to have it returned by Gunnar.
He did it mechanically, his brain turning another direction. Each time he and Shay had worked something out, it had broken apart again. He felt this time was different, but he'd felt that before.
When she emerged with her own coffee in hand, she seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts. Her soft words floated to him, even if she stayed put. "Talk to me."
"I just realized it's Sunday morning."
"And?" She prompted. She was right, he wasn't good at going straight into something.
So he looked at her, wanting to not dance around things anymore. "So you spent the night on a Saturday night. Do I get to come stay with you on Saturday night next week? Will you bring the boys after school one day this week?"
He still wasn't getting right at what he wanted, but she understood. Only she said, "No."
"Oh." He looked away, the ‘everything’ he so desperately wanted still just out of his reach. He was telling himself that she really loved him and that had to mean a lot, when she spoke again.
"You didn't like that arrangement, and that was part of me trying to keep you out of the boys' lives. That was a mistake." She sat on his lap again, an arm around his shoulders. "I don't want to spend another day or night away from you again. But what do you want?"
He took a deep breath. It was a good question.
It hit him then. For the first time, it was about him.
"I want to be with you as much as possible. I want to sleep next to you every night." He shook his head. "I'm sure that can't happen, but it's what I want."
"Let's make it happen." She set down her coffee, wrapping both arms around him.
"What about the boys?"
"My boys need a happy mother. They'll adjust. And they need you. Aaron asks after you, and when Owen ran, he ran to you. I'm the one who's been slow on the uptake here."
Leaning his head into her for a moment before he had to throw the slimy tennis ball again, Craig soaked up her words. "Neither of us has a house big enough for all of us. Not for any length of time, and I know you want to own your own house—"
"No, I don't." When he frowned at her, she continued. "It was a dream I had for a long time. Something I clung to and honestly thought would still be a long way off. It took a while to realize that I didn't like any of the houses I looked at because there wasn't any room for you."
"We haven't been speaking." He reminded her.
"A huge mistake on my part. So huge that even then the houses weren't right." She took a breath. So many big breaths in the last twelve hours, so many big things changed and moved. "I want a house with you. I want to pay my part. I want my name on the deed. But I want it next to yours on the same deed."
When he opened his mouth, she shook her head. "It's a big thing. Big. You should think about it."
"Okay." He nodded. "I would love that." He rested his head on her shoulder. "I understand about wanting the house. I'm still working on my steps to being what I'm capable of. I remember the first time I got a full-time job, it was at Starbucks. I even got health insurance. The first time I visited a real doctor's office, I was excited to pay my co-pay. Buying a house was a really big thing."
She laughed, the sound slipping through him and settling in his soul where it belonged. "The first month I paid all my bills by myself I was so excited. And proud. It was the first time I knew that I would be okay. Owen was a toddler and I was still pregnant with Aaron, and finalizing my second divorce. Until then, I had no idea I would be able to make it on my own."
"You're more than capable." He told her.
"I am. And so are you.” She was looking out over the back yard as he looked at her. Mussed morning hair, sleepy eyes, soft glow to her skin. He liked knowing that he put it there. Her voice rolled over him. "I still have a long way to go. But you made me realize I should look back."
He frowned, he did not like looking back. Nothing back there was good or worth saving. Some of it nearly not survivable.
She must have seen his expression out of the corner of her eye. She looked at him. "You and I have already climbed further than most people will ever even have the opportunity to. I'm not done yet, Craig, but of all the thousands of steps I've taken, this one is the biggest and the best. I’ve been afraid and worried every step I’ve taken before. But not this time."
Chapter 43
My BookShay looked out the passenger window as Craig turned off the engine of the old truck. The truck did not fit in with the neighborhood.
"Is this it, Mom!" It wasn't a question. Owen figured out they had parked in front of it, so it must be theirs.
"Yes, this one is ours." She turned to Craig, a grin spreading across her face. Sparks flew between the two of them at the thought.
Obviously, they'd seen the place before; they'd walked through, argued the selling price and made counter-offers. But today they arrived as the new owners, keys in hand.
Owen was the first one out of the car, his feet jumping to the ground and starting across the lawn.
"I've got him!" Craig announced, breaking the lightning arc between them and taking off after her oldest. Shay climbed out only a little more calmly than Owen had and went to unbuckle a squirming Aaron who was getting upset at being the last one in the car.
As she set him down, still holding his hand, she wondered if he would remember this day when he was older. Maybe it was okay if he didn't. Maybe it was fine if this nice neighborhood with the good school district and the house with his own bedroom was all he remembered growing up. Maybe he would never remember a time when he didn't have Craig.
They joined the others on the front porch until they were standing four across—Shay next to Craig, Aaron's hand in hers. Owen seemed to feel the importance of the moment and tucked his hand into Craig's. These last few months had been nothing but confirmation that she'd finally made the right choice. Craig was the right choice for her boys, but more importantly, he was the right choice for her. In fourteen years, it would just be the two of them. The boys would grow up, move out, get married, just as they should. She knew where she belonged.
"You do the honors." He handed her the key. He'd already done this once—turned the key to his own home. He was giving her the chance. The only one probably. They'd talked about this—they made plans to pay the place off in fifteen years. They weren't going to trade up; neither of them ever wanted to move again. They wanted to leave the boys in one home for the remainder of their childhoods. She knew things could change, the world could fall away from under her, but she finally had the power to influence it.
She pushed the key into the bolt and turned, opening the door into a small foyer that opened immediately in to a large living room.
Owen and Aaron bolted, exploring parts unknown. Craig watched them go then turned to her. "I've been waiting for this."
Her heart pounded. She had plans and she hoped he didn't ruin them. But he scooped her into his arms and kissed her, carrying her over the threshold. She flashed back to a gauzy yellow dress and a tux, a hotel suite and the promise of a single night of freedom.
This was a hell of a lot better than that freedom. She kissed him back with everything she had, hoping to hell that he didn't propose to her.
When Owen yelled out, Craig set her down and asked her what time it was.
"Ten-twelve." She looked at her watch. The movers were supposed to show up around ten thirty. It was going to be a mess. Her things, his things, they didn't have some of what they needed and they'd been donating duplicate items where they could.
Though they'd had to move to a different neighborhood—Craig's had been made up of smaller bungalows—they'd managed to stay close. The boys would have the same bus driver even.
She watched as Craig rounded up the boys from the back of the house where the kitchen overlooked a good-sized back yard. He held Aaron's hand and pointed Owen up the steps as he grinned at her. "Come on, Shay.
"
Following them upstairs, she made it in time to hear Owen ooh and ahhhh over the attic room. "Can we put toys up here?"
"How about we put you up here?" Craig asked. "This is your room."
"All by myself!?" He flung himself at Craig who hugged the boy back, lifting him off the ground and whispering, "Tell your mom thank-you, too. She worked really hard to make this happen."
She was almost bowled over by the hug flung at her waist.
The house wasn't exactly what they needed. The attic room didn't have a door—not a problem for a six-year old, but it would be later. The fence in the backyard wouldn't last when the dogs gained another twenty pounds each, as they were expected to do. But they would fix and change things as they needed. With both of them chipping in, they could make it happen. Even if Wilder tanked tomorrow and never had another hit, they had each other.
They were showing Aaron his room when she heard the deep squeal of air brakes. "The moving truck is here."
She spent the rest of the morning directing boxes that she'd tried to label as well as possible over the previous week. It felt like she'd just done this, though the move into and then out of the rented townhouse was by no means her fastest turnaround. It felt good to finally put down real roots.
After a late lunch and a visit to walk the puppies, they started the task of opening boxes and putting things away. She and Craig stayed side by side, working first on the kitchen, then the bedroom. She went to wipe the inside of the cabinets only to remember the cleaning crew they'd sent through two days before.
She'd always before cleaned her own places when she went in. Each motion brought flashbacks of other moves. Chipped tile counters, cracked linoleum floors. In the past, she'd wiped roaches out of kitchens and bathrooms, and in one place out from under the old bed she and Zoe were to share. She'd cleaned detritus from previous tenants, swept broken beer bottles from a living room floor once when kids had broken in during the week the place had been vacant. None of those things bothered her here.
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