Something Borrowed (New Castle Book 3)

by Lydia Michaels

  “I’m done, Trenton. Kids… I have mine. Marriage… It doesn’t agree with me.”

  “What about love?”

  Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m just too fragile.”

  “You’re tougher than you realize.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bullshit. I watched you get out of there twice. You’re the toughest woman I know.”

  “I don’t feel tough. I feel battered and beaten in every sense of the word.”

  His jaw noticeably clenched as he stared at her. “My future’s with you, Chloe. I can either suffer through everything that comes after this moment, wonder every day if you’re happy, or I can make sure of it. But you have to let me at least try. With all my heart, I believe I can make you happy. I did once. Let me try again.”

  Gathering her hands in both of his, he squeezed. “I’d be a good guy to Dayton and Mattie. I’d love them and protect them as if they were my own. I just want to love and take care of you—all of you.”

  Her vision blurred. “Why?”

  “Who gives a shit why? I love you. I love you blonde, auburn, or gray. There hasn’t been a day—in nearly seven years—that I haven’t thought about you, wondered if you were all right. It doesn’t take work because my heart just goes there. I’ll worry about you no matter what. It’s the only thing I’ve consistently done in my life. I don’t wanna say ‘this isn’t perfect, let’s throw it away and shop new’. This is you and me. It’s what I want. I want … us.”

  “Trenton, I … you’re a very sexual person.”

  “So are you.”

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I was, but I’m not anymore.”

  “Chloe, what do you feel when you see me?”

  So much. “I don’t know.”

  “Think.”

  Her lips pulled into a sad smile. “Happy. Nervous.”

  “What kind of nervous? Nervous like fear or excitement?”

  “Nervous like I’m rolling down a hill in a fast car and my stomach feels like it’s going to jump out of my body.”

  “You make me the same kind of nervous. When I see you, a fire catches in my lungs and makes it hard to breathe. My skin tingles all over. I feel breakable and impetuous, and always a little unsure because I know each time I’m with you, I’m with the kindest, most beautiful woman in the world and I don’t want to mess it up.”

  Her brow creased. “I do that to you?”

  “Yes! Will you listen to me, woman? You make me crazy. Do you know what that nervousness is, Chloe? It’s desire. Circumstances might’ve doused it, but nothing can destroy it. You just need some kindling and that little flame will grow so big and strong, before you know it you’ll be racing down those metaphorical hills remembering how fun it is to let go.”

  Her heart was breaking. Everything he said, she wanted to believe it could all be true. She loved him so deeply and yet she feared he’d eventually grow tired waiting for her. She could handle disappointing someone she hated, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint someone she loved to the degree she loved him. “I’m scared.”

  “Scared how?”

  “I’m scared if I try, I’ll end up letting you down.”

  “Never.”

  “We have to be realistic, Trenton. You could touch me and I could lose it. I can’t even be alone in an elevator with a man. You don’t know how bad it is.”

  “We’ll get there. I don’t care if it takes years.”

  “You say that now—”

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Chloe. I mean, don’t get me wrong, sex with you was off the charts, honestly, the best I ever had, but there’s so much more. We’ll deal with all that when the time comes. For right now, I just want to be with you, a part of your day-to-day life. Even if we never get to the sex, I’m okay with that.”

  “You … can’t be okay with that.”

  “Yes, Chloe, I can. That’s how much I love you. If I can get your mind and your heart, the other parts are just a bonus.”

  “I don’t know if I believe that.” Not because of her trust issues or because she doubted his sincerity, but because she knew he’d never be satisfied with a sexless relationship—even if he wholeheartedly believed he could be.

  “Chloe, I’ve been sniffing your clothes for almost eight months. They’re running out of smell.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “The bag you left at my house, everything in it smells like you. I’m not crazy—well, maybe it’s a little crazy—but I miss you. Here—” He reached into his pocket, opened his hand. A black tube lay in his palm.

  She gasped. “My lipstick.”

  “Yeah, I should’ve given it back. I didn’t know you were looking for it until Sue bought you a new one. I found it in the car the day you went missing. I’ve carried it around ever since.”

  “You were at my house the day I went missing?”

  “Yes. I came and searched your house for anything the cops might have missed. I found this under the seat of your car.”

  She picked up the tube. It was lighter. She lifted the cap and found it empty. “What happened to it?”

  “I told you, I’ve been carrying it around for over six months. It was a hot summer. It melted. All of my jeans have pink stains in the pockets.”

  “Why didn’t you throw it away?”

  He moved to take it back, but she pulled it away and his eyes turned pleading. “Because it reminds me of you. It smells like your kisses.”

  And here she was thinking herself crazy by drinking her coffee black because they tasted like his kisses. She held the tube under her nose and inhaled the familiar scent of cosmetics. She supposed it did smell like her. She handed it back to him and relief stole over his face.

  She realized in that moment that he hadn’t moved on at all. Maybe neither of them had. Just like he’d thought of her all these years, she also thought of him—her hero who saved her when she needed to be saved.

  He never asked her for much but he was asking for everything now. If there was any possible way she could save him from pain, she wanted to. Maybe, somehow, they could save each other.

  “Okay, Trenton. We can try. But you have to be patient with me.”

  His blue eyes lit as a smile stretched across his face. “Doll, I’m not a fancy man, but I plan on wooing you in ways that would make the greatest poets cry. If patience is what you need that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chloe opened her office door and frowned at the antique teddy bear with copper button eyes sitting on the floor. She picked it up, noting the vintage style mouth and stitching.

  “Tommy, do you recognize this?”

  He looked up from the basket of freshly washed clothes he was hanging. “Never saw it before.”

  “It was outside of my office. Do you think it belongs to one of the residents?” They only had two at the moment.

  “No.”

  Her gaze narrowed at his quick answer. “We should at least ask.”

  “Go ahead and ask, but it doesn’t belong to anyone.”

  “How do you know?”

  He sighed and hung a shirt on the display wrack. “Maybe Cupid left it, Chloe.”

  “Was Trenton here?” That had to be what he meant. Either that or she was missing the punch line.

  “I saw nothing.”

  He was no help. “I can just check the security cameras.”

  “Sure, if you want to be a brat about it.” He winked.

  Her lips twisted as she fought a grin. She carried it back upstairs and placed it on one of the empty shelves in her office. The gesture was sweet—if it had actually been Trenton who left the bear.

  Within an hour she was rolling back the security feed, because, yes, she had issues. With everything she’d gone through of late and her duty to protect those staying at BASE, she couldn’t rest until she was certain who had been outside of her door. Trenton had access codes now and the necessary clearances,
but…

  She exhaled as she watched the footage, recognizing his large form approach her door as he bent and carefully placed the antique bear on the floor. She smiled, almost wishing she hadn’t needed the reassurance but feeling much more at ease now that she was certain.

  The next day a small box wrapped in twine sat outside of her door. She searched the hallway but saw no one. Inside the box sat a vintage pocket watch. She placed it with the others in her collection, making sure it was in the front.

  For a week straight she found little trinkets at her door, each one uniquely beautiful and showing her that he paid attention to the things she liked. She wanted to do something in return, so she took a detour on her way to work Friday morning and picked him up a stainless steel travel mug and had his initials engraved in it.

  Later that day, when he was unpacking a large shipment of equipment in the gym, he looked up from sipping said mug and gave her a knowing smile. She lingered by the door.

  “Where you looking for something, doll?”

  “No. I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  His brow lifted. “There’s plenty I need. What are you offering?”

  She didn’t dare step any closer. “How’s the coffee?”

  His smile held. “It’s the best I’ve tasted in years.”

  “Good.” She reached into her pocket and held out the rock that had been left by her door that morning. “Do you know what this is?”

  He took a step, still leaving several feet between them. “Looks like a rock.”

  “I know it’s a rock.” But she didn’t understand the meaning behind it after a week of other trinkets. “I’m trying to figure out why someone would leave it by my office.”

  He took three slow steps to cross the distance between them. “May I?”

  She placed it in his palm and he examined it as if he’d never seen it before when she knew he was the one who left it. There had to be some meaning behind it.

  “It’s a sedimentary rock. See all the little granules of sand and broken shells? Look how you can see all the layers on this side. Each one’s different.”

  She stepped closer and glanced up when she heard him inhale close to her hair. His gaze held hers. “Why would someone leave this for me?” There were several thin layers built over time.

  “Hmm. I’m not sure.” He placed it in her hand. “Careful, it looks fragile. In the wrong hands, it could break. I’d keep it somewhere safe. It’s rare to find such a pretty stone with so many layers. I bet each one tells a different story.” His thumb dragged over one beveled edge. “Each one made it stronger. Even these little broken pieces… It’s all part of what makes it unique and beautiful, fragile yet resilient.”

  Her fingers closed protectively over the rock. “Is this rock supposed to represent me?”

  Head still tipped close to hers, he smiled. “I don’t think it would be as pretty if it still was just a smooth little pebble that never moved or changed. Its imperfections are what make it special. I bet you could search the world and never find a stone exactly like that one.” His fingers brushed over the backs of her knuckles. “That’s something I’d take care of. Something that wouldn’t be able to be replaced if anything ever happened to it.”

  She blinked as he casually strolled back to his boxes and picked up his coffee mug, his blue eyes watching her as he took a long sip and winked.

  When she returned to her office, she placed the stone on her desk, turning it so the roughest side with all the layers faced her chair. Of all the treasures he’d left her that week, this one was by far her new favorite.

  Her client list was low but BASE kept her busy. They never had more than a few residents each month and the times she offered her counseling services, she was left weighted in a solemn state of mind. She was helping, but it didn’t feel like enough. What worried her most were all the emails from women promising they’d get there but never showed.

  Trenton made a habit of arriving in the mornings and lingering until she left to pick up the boys from school. Every day he’d walk her to her car, but he never made any move to kiss her or ask her on another date. She was selfishly satisfied with the comfortable way they interacted. He made her happy and surprised her regularly with subtle gestures like the novel he’d left by her door that week.

  Missing him, she took her lunch down to the gym. He’d set up a desk in the corner and sat with his head bowed over some paperwork.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  His head lifted and he put down the pencil he held. “Not at all.”

  She took the seat across from his desk and opened her lunch, splitting her sandwich in two and handing him half. “What are you working on?”

  “Schedules for the classes.”

  “I hope we have more residents soon or you won’t have anyone to teach.”

  “If you build it they will come. You gotta be patient.”

  “I sent a few women some bus tickets today.” She shipped the tickets to a public pick up point and hoped this time the women found a way to use them.

  “You’ve been doing that a lot.”

  “I know. It’s not the most fiscally responsible way, but I can’t read their letters and do nothing.”

  “Can you write it off?”

  “No. It comes out of my pocket.”

  “What happens when you start getting more letters? You can’t finance every woman’s journey.”

  She peeled away the crust of her sandwich. “I know. I’ve been thinking about a fundraiser, but I feel like we have to be more established to start asking private donors for contributions.”

  He said nothing.

  “My biggest fear is not being able to help the woman who needs it most. I can’t stomach the cost of a bus ticket getting in the way of someone’s happiness. So many say they’ll come and they never show up.”

  Her mind flashed to the time she tried to run away and failed. Rotating her wrist, remembering her scream as Marcus slammed it in the car door, she let out a long breath and shook away a chill.

  “If you’re worried about staying afloat, we could close off this section of the building and open the self-defense classes to the public. They’d never have to know what’s hiding upstairs.”

  “That’s a possibility.” She crumpled up her trash and put it back in her lunch bag.

  “It’ll get there, doll. I have faith in your dream.”

  She smiled, his confidence lending itself to hers. “Thank you.” She watched him as he sat back and rocked in his chair. “Trenton, would you like to come to our house for dinner tonight?”

  His smile told her he’d been waiting for her to ask. “I’d love to.”

  The boys were happy to see Trenton. He listened to Mattie play piano and played a few video games with Dayton, who no longer brooded and seemed much happier this school year.

  After dinner, they watched a movie and he held his hand open on his thigh. Her gaze continuously turned to his open palm and splayed fingers until she finally laced her fingers with his. Focused on the screen, he closed his hand around hers and smiled.

  A storm unleashed in her stomach, warm and exciting. The turbulent way her nerves bounced whenever he was near put a sense of urgency inside of her she couldn’t navigate. The looks, the feather-light touches, they were all pleasant and therefore confusing.

  More confusing was the hollowness she suffered when they parted. The more time they spent together the more she looked for him when he wasn’t there. Her thoughts turned to him at night and during her solitary moments of the day.

  Her thoughts became so preoccupied with Trenton, she hardly ever thought about Marcus. Then one day out of the blue, she realized, as if she didn’t already know, that Marcus was dead.

  Dead. Never coming back. She’d pulled the trigger and finally exhaled as he drew his last breath. No sense of remorse came and perhaps her fear of guilt was what kept her from accepting the finality of her actions. She’d killed her husband.

  The
police, when she’d sat down with them, had done their own investigation. Everyone who knew her gave a statement and Nathan had handled the legal matters to shield her from the unsavory memories whenever possible. But not once had anyone made her feel as if her actions were not justified.

  The things Marcus had done to her… They were cruel and pre-meditated, guaranteed to inflict the most harm. He’d given her no choice but survival because in those last horrific moments his intent to murder her had been painfully clear.

  She fought. She defended herself. And she … was alive.

  The simple realization had her lowering into her seat and dropping her weight like an anvil. He was dead. The finality of such an epiphany struck hard and left her numb. She wanted to tell someone but that would just be stating the obvious. They all knew he was dead. They knew how and why, so how come this information was just processing in her brain now, months after the fact?

  He was gone. Forever. Dead. It was an absolute that could not be undone and the realization filled her with a grotesque giddiness.

  Place your bets. I bet dead. Dead it is! I’m gonna let it ride on dead. Place your bets again... Dead! I can’t lose! He’s always going to be dead!

  She grinned and covered her mouth, ashamed to joke about such things but not ashamed for what she’d done. She was probably a little crazy, but who wouldn’t be?

  Yes, it was horrible to rejoice in the death of the father of her children, but he’d never really fathered them or taken the time to know them—even when he’d had the chance. He was too interested in cloning himself to see that her boys were already better than him.

  He could never hurt her again. She was free. So why wasn’t she living the life she dreamed of someday having, embracing all that was stolen away for so long? Her time with Marcus didn’t represent everything she was. She was no longer borrowing happiness for a time, she was entitled to it—forever. He was the one who had stolen her entitlement away. But in the end, she took her freedom back. Permanently.

  This was her life and her choice how to live. Why had she been so convinced she didn’t deserve to be happy again? She wanted to be happy—dear God, she wanted it!