He pounded on the door and then silence fell.
I stared down at the blood dripping from my knuckles and down my fingers. The pain filled me with an odd sense of satisfaction. The physical pain drowned out what I felt inside. I liked it.
The door burst open, splintering from the hinges. Trent stood there, cradling his shoulder, his chest rising heavily with each breath. His mouth fell open as he caught sight of the shards of mirror littering the black and white tiled floor and my bleeding hand.
“Row,” he gasped, dropping to the ground and reaching for my hand.
I whimpered as he inspected my bloodied knuckles. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No. No hospital. Please.” My words came out short and clipped as I winced from the stinging pain in my hand.
“You might need stitches. You should go to the hospital,” he pleaded.
“I’m not going.” I pulled my hand away from his hold and cradled it once more.
He sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair and then wincing from the pain in his shoulder.
“Fine,” he relinquished, “but at least let me clean you up.”
After thinking it over for a moment, I nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
He grasped my arms and hauled me up. He eyed the mess on the floor and then my hand. “What were you thinking?”
That I hated myself.
“I don’t know,” I said instead.
He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and helped me stumble out of the bathroom. My legs were shaky from the leftover adrenaline.
We made our way slowly up the steps and some guests lingering in the hall and foyer eyed us with curiosity.
Once in his bedroom he pointed at the bed. “Sit.” The tone of his voice told me not to argue with him.
He shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it on a chair in the corner, then proceeded to undo the first three buttons on his crisp white shirt. He eyed my hand, which had stopped bleeding, and a frown marred his face. He muttered something under his breath and strode into his bathroom.
I heard him rummaging through a drawer and when he found what he was looking for he came back into the room, kneeling in front of me. He opened the first aid kit, pulling out a set of tweezers, and laying a towel to the side.
“I need to get the shards out of your skin before I clean it,” he murmured, holding my hand up and twisting it in the light so he could search for the small pieces.
I winced as he began to pick them out. My skin was raw and tender and the metal points of the tweezers hurt as they pinched at the debris.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered.
“You don’t understand what?” I asked, my voice hoarse as if I had been crying.
“Why you would do this,” he answered.
I looked down, letting the stray hairs that had fallen loose from my up-do hide my face. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Why do I feel like I’m losing you?” His eyes flicked up to meet mine and those pretty baby blues rooted me to the spot.
“Can you lose something if you never really have it?”
His teeth smashed together. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true,” I whispered as he lay the tweezers aside. He picked up the rubbing alcohol and dabbed it on a cotton ball before cleaning my knuckles. I winced from the burning sensation.
“Why are you so fucking scared of us?” He pointed at his chest and then me. “We’re good together, we’re happy. Why would you run from that?”
I’d been scared the night I left the tent, but that wasn’t my reason for running now.
“I’m not running, Trent,” I shook my head as he cleaned the blood from my hand.
“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” he spat, reaching for the gauze to tape around my wound.
With my hand that wasn’t injured, I reached for his face, rubbing my fingers against the slight stubble on his cheek. “I’m not running,” I repeated. “I’m protecting you.”
“Protecting me?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “From what?”
“From me.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle you, Row,” he tenderly lifted my hand as he secured the gauze in place.
“It’s not about handling me,” I retorted. “I think you know after what I said today that there’s a lot I can’t tell you. I can’t allow you to…” My gut clenched painfully. “I can’t allow you to love me with these secrets standing between us.” My voice cracked painfully. I hated doing this to him again. I felt like my insides were curling in on themselves.
“Why can’t you tell me?” He looked at my quizzically, wishing I would spill my secrets to him. “Does it really matter if you do?”
I closed my eyes. I wanted to tell him. There had been several times where I had come close to spilling the beans, but I always stopped myself, because I was protecting him from the repercussions of my sins.
It had been selfish of me to give in to my desires. No matter how much I had wanted this time with him, it wasn’t fair to either of us. I was ruined for anyone else and he’d never understand why I had to do this.
“Yeah, it does,” I finally answered. “I wished it didn’t, but it does matter. One day,” I rubbed his cheek softly, “I’ll be able to tell you, but until then, I can’t say anything. I wish I could.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing as he swallowed painfully, “did you sign some contract or something?”
I nodded.
His eyes widened in surprise at having guessed right. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”
“I didn’t kill anybody,” I joked pitifully, “and I’m not in the witness protection program.”
“I don’t understand,” his eyes pleaded with me to speak the truth.
“Good,” I responded.
I lowered my head to his level, where he was bent, and tenderly kissed him. Sadness clung to both of us, as we both knew this was goodbye. He knew me so well that I didn’t even need to tell him.
Trent kissed me back fiercely as he climbed onto the bed. “I’m not okay with this,” he whispered, his lips caressing the skin of my cheek as he spoke, “but because I love you, I’m going to set you free.”
A sob threatened to escape me at his words. He kissed me as his hands found the zipper on the back of my dress. Cool air hit my back as it became exposed and he drew away from me as he pulled the sleeves off my arms and then the dress down my hips. Once it was off I was left in nothing but a pair of lacy black panties and a bra. His eyes feasted hungrily on my body.
“If this is our last night together,” he murmured, gently tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth, “then I’m going to make every second count.”
My heart clenched painfully. A part of me was happy that he had accepted that this was it, that there could be nothing more between us, but another part of me was immensely sad. Trenton Wentworth had ruined me for all other men. He owned me, heart, body, and soul. I loved him, I did. I knew that now. But I couldn’t tell him, or he’d never stop fighting for me, and I needed him to let me go.
He took his time kissing me all over and undressing the rest of my body. My fingers shook as I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his lean shoulders. His arms wrapped around me, protecting me with their warmth and security.
“I love you,” he whispered in between kisses, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” I wondered if he thought by saying those words he could change my mind.
I wished it was that easy.
He rolled on a condom and slowly eased inside me. Our fingers entwined together, and he rested his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes and straight down to my soul as he made love to me.
His lips placed tender kisses along my face, down my neck, and over my shoulders and breasts.
Everything was so sweet and tender.
It was the perfect goodbye.
If only goodbyes las
ted forever…
chapter fifteen
When I woke up Trent’s arms were wrapped around me and our legs were twisted together. It was like in his sleep he’d thought I might escape and he needed to bind me there.
His face was pressed into the crook of my neck and his forehead was wrinkled as if he was dreaming of something unpleasant.
I watched him sleep, studying his features—the elegant arch of his nose, his pouty lips, the nearly invisible scar on his cheek, even the light freckles on his nose that you couldn’t see unless you were up close to him like this. They were all such simple things, but they were a part of him. What I loved the most about Trenton though, wasn’t what he looked like, it was his heart—he was the kindest, most giving person I knew. He cared so deeply, it was a rarity to see that in a man—I would know with all the men my mother had brought around as I grew up. Despite the distance in our social classes, Trenton understood me. At a time when I’d been the scared new girl, he’d taken me under his wing and made me feel comfortable. He’d been my best friend. I had trusted him more than I ever had anybody. He’d tried to claim my love before I was ready to give it, and it sent me running. Because of it, I had made some horrible decisions I could never take back. Regret is funny and it does terrible things to you. It robs you of happiness.
As if he felt me watching him, his eyes cracked open and he smiled sleepily. His smile quickly turned to a frown though as memories of last night flooded him.
“I’m ready to go home,” I whispered sadly. I had to force myself to say the words. I didn’t really want to go back to that place, back to my shitty mom and my sleazy step-dad. I wanted to stay right here with Trent. However, I knew if I let myself linger much longer, the pain I’d feel later would be even worse. The sooner I got away, the sooner I could grieve this loss and move on. Well, there never really would be any moving on for me. Every day I’d be reminded of what I had done, and what I had lost because of it.
Trent swallowed thickly and nodded. He clearly didn’t want to let me go, but he knew he had no choice.
He extracted his body from mine and stood, pulling on his boxer briefs and then rummaging around his suitcase for a pair of jeans. “I’ll take you home.” His voice was thick, whether from still being sleepy or emotions he was fighting, I didn’t know. I held the sheet to my chest and sat up, looking around his room for my own suitcase.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw what I was searching for. He grabbed my suitcase, which had been hidden from my sight by the mountain of blankets on the bed, and deposited it in front of me.
I dressed as quickly as possible and pulled my hair back in a messy ponytail. My eyes were bothering me from having fallen asleep in my contacts, so I went to the bathroom and removed them, perching my glasses on the end of my nose.
My hand hurt like a bitch this morning, but its constant throb helped diffuse the other pain inside me.
I eyed my tired reflection for a moment. My eyes were sunken in with dark circles beneath them and my mouth was turned down in a frown that I couldn’t force into a smile no matter how hard I tried. Yesterday had been a trying day for me. I still couldn’t believe I’d had that meltdown in the car, and then again in the bathroom. It wasn’t like me, but everything was catching up with me and I didn’t know how to process my feelings.
I finished in the bathroom and found Trent waiting by his bedroom door with both our suitcases. “Let’s go,” he muttered without looking at me.
It killed me that he couldn’t bring himself to look at me. This had to be done though. We had to end. He couldn’t find out what I had done and I wanted to tell him so bad. Some secrets have to be kept quiet and I was bound to mine.
He carried the suitcases down the steps and out to the garage. All the while not saying a word to me. I wanted him to look at me, to say something…anything. Silence, ultimately, was better though.
He drove me home, his jaw tight with anger, but sadness too.
I knew he’d hate me for this—for breaking his heart a second time.
But better he hate me for that than the truth.
He parked in the driveway, not the street, and hopped out to get my suitcase.
I knew better than to argue as he wheeled my suitcase up to the front door. I walked slightly in front of him and jumped in surprise when the door opened. I expected it to be my mom or step-dad, since they should’ve been the only ones home, but instead it was Tristan.
“Row!” He cried my name with joy as he came barreling into my arms.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
They weren’t supposed to be home yet! I was supposed to pick them up tomorrow! Tristan shouldn’t have been here!
“Hi,” Tristan released his stranglehold on me and turned to greet Trenton.
Trent’s mouth fell open in shock as his eyes landed on the little boy. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement, then flickered to me, and back to Tristan again. Recognition lit his eyes and my throat closed up.
He knew.
There was no denying the resemblance.
“Hello,” Trenton finally responded, his voice slightly squeaky as he stared down at Tristan.
I knew what he saw. I saw it every single day. Tristan had the same light colored hair I’d had as a child, but everything else about him had Trenton Wentworth written all over it—especially his vivid blue eyes.
“You need to go inside now.” I gave Tristan a slight shove. He didn’t need to be here to witness this.
“Why?” He peered up at me with inquisitiveness.
“Just do it,” I said, my voice harsher than how I normally spoke to him.
He frowned, but finally went back inside, waving at Trent before closing the door.
“That’s my son,” Trenton stated, his eyes full of anger. His face was growing red and his nostrils flared.
I nodded. I couldn’t refute it.
“That’s my son,” he repeated, rubbing his jaw. His face was clouded with disbelief. “My son,” his voice grew soft with shock. “Why the fuck did you never tell me?!” He suddenly roared, pointing an accusing finger in my face. His eyes were full of hatred for me. Despite knowing if he ever found out that he’d hate me it still hurt to see that look in his eyes.
My voice seemed to have stopped working. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. My worst nightmare was playing out before me and I was powerless to stop it. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid for the last five years. I knew letting Trent back into my life, no matter how brief, would have lasting consequences.
“I have a son,” his voice was full of wonder as he glanced at the closed door. “What’s his name?” His eyes stayed glued to the door, like he was willing the small boy to come back outside so he could see him again.
“T-Tristan,” I stuttered, finally finding my voice.
“You gave him a T name,” he whispered under his breath so low that I wasn’t sure I heard him right.
He stared at the closed door, his jaw clenched, and his hands fisting at his sides. He seemed to be battling some internal war.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me!” He twisted back to face me, and I flinched at his harsh tone. I didn’t like him yelling at me, but I understood. This was a shock for him. He had every right to be angry and hate me.
“I couldn’t tell you,” I cried softly, itching to reach out and touch him, but knowing that was the last thing he wanted right now.
I had known there was the possibility he might find out about Tristan, it was a small town after all, but I’d hoped to avoid this. I had been forced to keep this a secret, and it had slowly been killing me inside to stay silent, but I’d had no choice. I wasn’t allowed to say anything to Tristan until he was eighteen, which meant Trent couldn’t know until then either. I had always planned to tell him, knowing that he’d hate me when he found out, but having him see Tristan and find out the truth like this was horrible. I knew he wouldn’t understand why I did it.
“Like hel
l!” He spat, shoving his fingers forcefully through his hair. “I can’t fucking believe you, Rowan! This,” he pointed at the closed door, “is what you’ve been hiding from me! This is the reason you wanted to end this! Didn’t you think I had a right to know?!”
“Of course!” I reached for his arm, but he flinched, backing away from me. “I couldn’t tell you, Trent,” I pleaded with him to understand. “I wanted to, so bad, but I couldn’t.”
“I can’t even look at you,” he muttered, his voice growing quiet once more. “I have to go.”
“Trenton! Please, let me explain!” I screamed as he darted around me, running for his car. “Trent!” I begged. I needed him to stay and hear me out. I had to make him understand. I knew he wouldn’t want anything to do with me after this, but I deserved to explain myself.
“I don’t want to hear it!” He yelled, turning to point an accusing finger at me. “I’m so fucking angry right now! Guess what?” He spread his arms wide. “You’re getting your wish! From this moment on, I’m out of your life!”
He climbed in his car, slammed the door closed, and sped away.
I sunk to the ground, snow seeping into my jeans and chilling me. A sob escaped me, and then tears. I reached up, feeling the wetness with timid fingers. I hadn’t cried in five years, not since I found out I was pregnant and my world came crashing down around me.
I thought I had been broken before…and I was…but Trenton had managed to carefully piece together the shards of me. Now, I was breaking all over again, and this time I knew the pieces would be too small to ever be reassembled.
past
My hand shakes as my gaze drops to the slender white stick in my hand. I slide to the floor, my back against the bathroom door.
Pregnant.
Holy shit.
How am I going to raise a kid?
I already take care of Ivy, I don’t see how I can raise my little sister and a child of my own.
Tears coat my cheeks with sticky dampness.
I will the test to change to negative, but of course that doesn’t happen.
I’m going to have a baby.
Trent’s baby.
Tempting Rowan Page 22