by LENA DIAZ,
But there was one more person she needed to make peace with.
That’s why she was sitting in her car on the curb in front of a house she’d never been in, hungrily watching the front windows, both hoping and fearing for the glimpse of a familiar profile. It had taken several trips and finally an all-out bribe at the DEA office to get Nick’s address. But now, she couldn’t seem to work up the nerve to even walk to the door.
Just like yesterday.
And the day before.
And the day before that.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Why couldn’t she work up the nerve to get out of her car?
“What are you doing here?”
She jumped at the sound of the voice beside her. Rafe Morgan was crouching down next to her open window. The frown and tension around his mouth told her he wasn’t a bit pleased to see her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave.” She reached for the keys in the ignition.
“The hell you will.” He stood and opened the door. “Get out.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me. Get out or I’ll drag you out.”
She blinked, and let out a shriek of surprise when he reached in across her and unbuckled her seat belt. He hauled her out of the car and started walking up toward the house with her in tow.
She pulled back, desperately trying to stop him. “What are you doing? Stop it right now. Let me go.”
He ignored her struggles and forced her all the way to the front door before finally letting her go.
Heather yanked her hand back and rubbed her aching shoulder, the one Nick had popped back into the socket. She was still going through therapy, and Rafe’s rough treatment had it throbbing.
His face flushed as he glanced at her hand rubbing her shoulder. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you. My apologies.”
Heather dropped her hand. “It’s an old injury. You didn’t know.”
He gave her a curt nod. “I couldn’t let you leave again without talking to Nick.”
This time it was her turn to flush. “Again?”
“I come over here every afternoon after work to check on Nick. And every evening about this time you end up sitting out front, trying to gather the courage to knock on the door. Well, I’m tired of waiting for you to develop a backbone. So I’m taking the decision out of your hands.” He turned the knob and shoved the door open. “After you.” He swept his hand out in front of him.
Heather balked at the threshold. “Wait, what do you mean you come over here to check on him? Is he sick or something?”
“Or something. He’s out back where he is every day at this time. I don’t mind telling you that I think you treated him like crap, and he doesn’t deserve that. I wouldn’t let you near him except that I know the idiot will be happy to see you. Mainly because he’s a little bit drunk and too stupid to know better.”
Heather’s stomach sank. “He’s...drunk?”
“Only a little. He just got started. You’ve caught him at a good time. Now go talk to him. I don’t care what you’re here to say. Just get it over with. Either make up with him or make sure it’s a clean break. Get it all out so he can move on with his life.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and physically set her in the foyer as if she were a doll.
She was too shocked to do more than blink at him and move her mouth like a fish, but no sounds came out.
Rafe shut the door in her face, leaving her alone in the darkened entranceway.
Heather reached for the doorknob, intending to step right back outside, but the pictures on the wall caught her attention. She slowly lowered her hand. There were dozens of photographs, family pictures, there could be no doubt. She recognized Nick in some of them, laughing or smiling, the Nick she remembered from when they’d first started dating, the charmer who called her darlin’ and made her heart melt.
Her breath caught when she saw a rectangular strip of pictures affixed to the expensive wallpaper with a thumbtack, a black and white collection of five pictures of her and Nick, taken in a photo booth at the local fair. She’d forgotten about that day, had assumed she’d lost those pictures somewhere. She never would have expected to find them on the wall in Nick’s house.
For the first time since she’d left him standing in the cemetery after saying those horrible things to him, hope flared inside her that he might yet forgive her. It gave her the courage she’d lacked all week, and had her walking through the house toward the sliding glass doors that opened onto the backyard.
She paused with her hand on the door handle. He was standing with his back to her, staring at the creek that ran behind his house.
Leaning on a cane.
Why did he have a cane? She shoved the door open and stepped onto the back deck.
Nick held up a half-empty beer bottle but didn’t turn around. “If you’re going to lecture me again, brother dearest, at least wait until I’m drunk to do it.” He tilted the bottle and took a long drink.
Heather stepped off the deck onto the grass, a flash of anger finally giving her the courage she’d been lacking. She marched across the grass and grabbed the beer bottle out of Nick’s hand.
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he tried to swipe the bottle back from her.
She held it out of his reach and tilted it so the liquid ran out onto the grass.
He glared at her. “What do you want? An apology? Well, forget it. I’m fresh out.”
“Why are you using a cane?”
His mouth tightened, but he didn’t answer.
“Rafe said you’ve been drinking a lot. Is that because of me?”
He turned and headed back toward the house. It nearly broke Heather’s heart to see him leaning so heavily on the cane. She hurried after him.
“Stop, Nick. We need to talk.”
He ignored her and climbed the steps to the deck. The grimace on his face told her how much it hurt him to do that. She followed him all the way to the door, but when he didn’t turn around, she rushed to stand in front of him, blocking his way.
“Move,” he said, bending down as if to intimidate her with his height.
Truth be told, she was intimidated. He had several days’ growth of stubble on his face and his hair looked like it hadn’t been cut in a month or more. His hazel eyes had darkened with anger and he looked as if he wanted to beat her over the head with his cane.
She swallowed and reminded herself that he didn’t hate her. If he did, he wouldn’t have kept her pictures in the foyer.
“Now who’s the coward?” she accused. “Big, strong Nick Morgan running away from a woman.”
He braced himself against the sliding glass door, his frown ominous as he held up his cane for her to see. “Not so big and strong anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Sympathy flooded through her, but she knew he wouldn’t welcome her pity, so she struggled to keep it from showing. “Is that because of the explosion?”
He gave her a curt nod.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He leaned on the cane again and stared at her for a full minute, as if trying to come to a decision. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “Most of the burns were second degree. They healed fairly quickly. But some tree sap stuck on my right calf burned clean down to the muscle. I’m on disability until the doctors decide I can go back to work again.”
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice losing some of its anger. “None of it was. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just...happened.”
She put the flat of her palm on his chest.
He stiffened, but she didn’t move her hand.
“I know that now,” she whispered. “I know
it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault that any of those terrible things happened.” She took a step closer and tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. “Lily’s death wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own. I’m so sorry that I ever blamed you. I don’t blame you anymore.”
He stared down at her, searching her face, her eyes, for the truth. “What are you saying?” His voice was raw, raspy.
“I’m saying that I was...confused, hurting, and I wanted you to hurt, too. Because I’d just lost my sister. I wanted, I needed, someone to blame. So I blamed you. But it wasn’t your fault. I know that now. And it wasn’t my fault, although I believed it was for a long time. There are a lot of people I can blame—myself, Lily, Luis, Jose—but not you.”
He reached up and slowly, as if he was afraid she’d reject him and turn away, traced his fingers over the curve of her cheek. “I’d rather you blamed me than yourself,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Can we go inside and sit down?” she asked. “Your leg must be hurting, and I need to explain a few things.”
He nodded and pulled the door open for her to go inside.
He limped in after her and lowered himself to the couch, grimacing as he did so.
Heather wanted to soothe his pain away, to run her fingers across his battered leg. But this truce, or whatever it was, that they’d just made was tenuous at best. She didn’t want to push too hard. Not yet. She sat down in the chair beside the couch, with a foot of space separating the two of them. So close, and yet so very, very far.
“I never told you about my childhood, about growing up with Lily. And I won’t bore you with all the details now except to say that it was...rough. From as far back as I can remember, Lily always seemed to resent me. Oh, we had happy times, but they were when we were very young. Our parents died when we were little and we were raised by relatives, shuffled back and forth. It never bothered me. I always seemed to thrive and excel at school. But Lily was just the opposite. It got really bad after she turned fifteen.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
“I always felt like it was my fault somehow, like maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard at school. Or maybe I shouldn’t have made so many friends. Lily and I grew further and further apart no matter what I did. And then, on our sixteenth birthday, she ran away. I didn’t see her again until a couple of years ago―the first time she stopped in to ask me for money.”
Nick watched her intently, as if he were eating up every detail of her life.
“The point is, I always felt like I’d let her down somehow, like her failures were my fault. Like I should have done something more to help her. That’s why it was so important to me to try to...save her...when I thought she’d been kidnapped. That’s why I was willing to give my life for hers. I felt I owed her that.”
Nick shook his head. “You didn’t owe her anything.”
“Oh, I know that now. Because I was just a child, you see. I couldn’t have known what was happening.”
Nick closed his eyes briefly before looking at her again. “Lily was abused, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. She was relieved when he didn’t pull away, but he wasn’t really holding her hand, either. He was letting her hold his hand, without responding one way or the other.
Heather swallowed against the lump in her throat. “After Lily’s death, I searched out my relatives. I hadn’t kept in touch over the years, but I learned that several of them suspected what I’d never realized, that one of my uncles had abused her. He’s dead now, so it’s not like I can try to pursue any legal action against him. But at least now I know why Lily was so angry and resented me so much.”
Nick gently squeezed her hand.
She felt that touch all the way to her heart.
“She resented you because he never...touched you,” he whispered.
“Yes. I don’t know why he chose her as his victim.”
“You can’t blame yourself for anything that happened. You were a child.”
She pressed her lips together, nodding. “I know. I don’t. It’s like I’m...at peace now. Now that I know what happened, and why everything went so wrong between Lily and me, I can forgive her. I understand how torn up she was inside, why she longed for someone to really care about her but never felt she could turn to me. I honestly believe she wanted to protect me from the truth, but that she still couldn’t move past her resentment that I was the one who escaped, even though she’s the one who ran away.”
“I’m glad you don’t blame yourself,” Nick said, looking wary. “But why did you feel you needed to tell me this?”
Her heart broke at the guarded look in his eyes.
“Nick, I love you. I needed you to know why I said all those horrible things, and that I regret every single word. I’m at peace with my past, except for the part where I hurt you. I love you. And I’m here to ask you to forgive me.”
“I forgive you,” he whispered. “And I love you, too.”
Heather let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you. That means so much to me, to know you forgive me.” She let go of his hand and stood. She hurried across the room, desperate to get out of the house before he saw her tears.
“Hey, where the hell are you going?” Nick called out from behind her.
“Home,” she called back as she hurried into the foyer.
The front door opened, and Rafe and his wife Darby stood in the opening. They were smiling until they spotted Heather. Rafe’s eyebrows rose and his smile faded.
“I thought you two, I mean, I could have sworn that you would have...” His words trailed off and his mouth tightened with disappointment.
“I...ah, need to go home now. Thank you for letting me speak to your brother.”
“Don’t let her step one foot out that door,” Nick growled from behind her.
Heather stepped forward, but Rafe nudged his wife back behind him and crossed his arms, lounging in the doorway.
“Detective Morgan, I’d appreciate it if you would get out of my way.” Heather was trying hard to hold back her tears. She would be mortified if she cried in front of all these people. It was hard enough to leave without having an audience to her humiliation.
“Heather Bannon, turn around and explain what the hell you think you’re doing. You can’t tell me you love me then walk out the door.”
Heather glared at Rafe. “You aren’t going to move, are you?”
He slowly shook his head. She could have sworn he was trying not to laugh.
She huffed out a deep breath and turned around. “Fine. Have it your way,” she said to Nick. “I didn’t want you to see me cry, okay? Well, look your fill. These are tears. I’m a strong woman but sometimes I can’t help but cry. There. Satisfied?” She crossed her arms and stared at the floor, gulping in deep breaths.
Nick limped toward her and stopped a few inches away. He gently nudged her chin up. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I love you, you stubborn man.”
“Okay, maybe I’m a little slow here, because I’ve never been in love before. But I don’t get the connection.”
Heather shoved his hand away from her chin. “Do I really have to spell it out?”
“Um, yeah. You do.”
She huffed again and fisted her hands beside her. “You’re a DEA agent. My sister was a drug dealer’s girlfriend. Heck, let’s be honest. She was basically a drug dealer, too. I had felony drug charges against me. Yes, they were dropped, but only because I helped with a case. I know what all of that means. It means we can’t be together. So forgive me if it makes me sad, okay? Now can I go?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” she practically screamed at him.
He put his arms around her and gently but steadily pulled her against him. “I
love you, Heather Bannon. And you love me. I chose my career over you once. That was the biggest mistake of my life. I won’t make that mistake twice. And no, you aren’t leaving. Ever.”
She blinked at him. “Ever?” she whispered.
He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. “Ever,” he repeated.
“But...but...your job means so much to you.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I have a past, too. A cousin, whose life was destroyed by drugs. When he died, I vowed I’d grow up to be a DEA agent, that I’d help stop drugs from pouring into our streets. I was sixteen. And yes, I still meant that vow. But, honey, I can help people without being a DEA agent. I didn’t think it was that simple before, but I’ve lived the past four weeks, ten days, and—” he looked at his watch “—thirty-two minutes without you. That’s the longest I ever want to be without you again. I can find another job. But I’ll never find another you.”
“What a nice thing to say,” Darby’s voice sounded from behind Heather.
Nick frowned.
Heather turned around, blushing fire-hot when she saw Darby and Rafe both standing in the doorway. She’d forgotten all about them. Darby’s eyes were misty. Rafe was grinning as if he’d planned this reunion all along.
As Heather thought back to when he’d pulled her out of the car earlier, she realized maybe he had.
She grinned back at him.
Nick grabbed her hand and hauled her into the living room, cursing under his breath. For a man walking with a cane, he could move at a pretty fast clip. He practically dragged her toward the opening into the hallway.
“Hey, wait, where are you two going?” Rafe called out. He and Darby ran into the living room behind them.
“I need some privacy to tell Heather that I love her,” Nick yelled as he pulled Heather down the hall.
Rafe stepped into the hall behind them. “But you already told her you loved her. We heard you.” His voice was thick with laughter.
“Yes, we did,” Darby agreed.