by Hope Ramsay
She shook her head, trying to get the hair out of her eyes, but the wind was having none of that. A little curl formed at the corner of her lips as she started talking about her new ideas. This time she wasn’t nervous or defensive.
Her words sparked his imagination. As he sailed his yacht toward the island, he could almost see it there: The big veranda, the low, hipped roof, the cupolas. And the other things she talked about: the swimming area off the western side of the island, the breezeway to the lighthouse, the technical details for the electric, septic, and fresh-water systems.
They discussed the house as he made the final approach to the island. Once they had Bachelor’s Delight moored at the dock, Jessica clambered out of the boat with the grace of a gazelle, and he followed like a clumsy rhino.
“Let’s go up to the light,” he said, unfolding his aluminum cane.
She turned with a frown. “Don’t you want me to pace out the house for you?”
“Later.” He headed up the flagstone path toward the lighthouse as fast as his bad leg would allow him. The cane improved his speed, even though he hated using it.
“You’re going to try the stairs, aren’t you?” she asked from behind.
“Am I that transparent?”
“Yes. Is that why we’re here, so you can prove something to me?”
He turned around. “How about proving something to myself?”
She gave him a direct and unsettling stare. The sky was filling with high clouds, and she’d pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head. Her hair was a windblown mess, which gave her that fresh, girl-next-door vibe that he loved so much.
“Do you need to prove something to yourself?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Why?”
He stood there blinking at her, the question so simple and so impossible at the same time. What was it about this woman?
Was she his tormentor or an angel come in answer to an unspoken prayer? Having no answer for her question or the deeper one plaguing him, he turned around and redoubled his pace to the lighthouse’s iron door, which he unlocked and pulled open.
He didn’t wait for her as he limped across the slate floor and took the first few stairs spiraling up to the light room at the top, his boat shoes ringing on the cast-iron treads.
The first fifty steps were hard. The last one hundred and seventeen took the better part of half an hour, with frequent rest stops along the way. Thank God Jessica had the good sense to keep her mouth shut during this ordeal.
When he finally climbed the ladder from the keeping room up to the gallery, the muscles of his left thigh and calf twitched and threatened another leg cramp. He stretched his Achilles tendon and then leaned into the masonry windowsill and gazed westward toward the mainland.
In the time they’d been climbing, the clouds had closed in. Off to the west, a front was approaching.
“Did you check the weather this morning?” she asked.
He nodded. “They were calling for a slight chance of rain.”
“That doesn’t look slight to me,” she said, coming up beside him, her body heat warming his skin. He wanted to reach over and cover her hand with his. Instead, he gripped the masonry a little tighter.
“Are you telling me we need to hurry back down?” He tried to invest his voice with a hint of humor. He wasn’t terribly successful.
Silence welled between them for a long moment. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” she finally said.
He turned, leaning his left side on the windowsill. Her eyes had gone the color of the clouds scudding in from the west—a gray, stormy color.
“Don’t I?” he said, his mouth dry from the slow climb. Gravity was a bitch.
“No. I’m your architect. I’m here to give you your dream house.”
Was that it? Probably. They should climb back down and pace off the dimensions of the house. They should talk about wastewater systems and all that. But that wasn’t what he wanted.
No surprise there. He was never satisfied. He’d always been striving for something. First it had been the NFL, then it had been a business, then it had been wealth, and then…
It had been speed, in the leather cockpit of a Ferrari on a curvy road.
“We can work on the house in a minute,” he said. “Right now, while I’m catching my breath, I want you to tell me the truth.”
She stepped away from him. “The truth?”
“Yeah. As odd as it may seem, I’d like to know what really happened sixteen years ago.”
She turned her back on him. “I don’t want to talk about that, okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. The other day you said I needed to do a penance. I’m happy to get down on my knees if that’s what it takes. But to truly seek forgiveness, I need to understand how I specifically hurt you,” he said on a puff of air as he took one painful step toward her.
This time she didn’t move back. But her mouth opened a little, her lips round and seductive.
He brushed back a strand of wind-ravished hair with his finger, and then he couldn’t help himself. His hand cupped her cool cheek.
“I never intended to hurt anyone. And I goddamn don’t want to hurt you now. I’ve already told you; I think you were put in my path to save me.”
* * *
The warmth of his fingers against her skin stunned her for a moment. She stood rooted to the concrete and iron floor, unable to step away, while every nerve in her body jangled.
“Please don’t,” she said in a desperate voice, her heart shuddering in her chest. She pulled away from him and made a dash toward the ladder to the keeping room.
“Don’t run away,” he said. “Whatever it is you have to say, it won’t offend me.”
She stopped and turned. “This isn’t about you,” she said.
“Okay. I’d still like to hear the story.”
“No, you don’t want to hear it. And I don’t want to tell it.” She swung to the first step of the ladder, hoping he would have trouble following her. But he surprised her by moving with astonishing speed.
“Don’t run away. I get it. I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I do. I can see it in your eyes. You think you have to keep all those angry thoughts inside. You think if you let them out, no one would ever love you.”
His words were like arrows shot right into her heart. How could he possibly know? He was a man who wore his anger for all the world to see. And he was sometimes hard to like, much less love.
Whoa, that stopped her. She blinked up at him, her hands and lips going numb. She didn’t love him, but she found him attractive, despite the scars, despite the anger that sometimes raged on the outside.
And that was frightening. She couldn’t afford to—
“I’m not here for a bunch of bullshit. I want the truth. Unvarnished,” he said. “You owe it to me, especially since you’ve blamed me for some great harm. Telling me the truth is part of my penance.”
She almost laughed at the way he’d turned her words against her. “I forgave you.” She continued climbing down the ladder.
“No, you didn’t. You said a bunch of polite but meaningless words so I would stop provoking you. Tell me the truth.” His words followed her down to the keeping room. A moment later he came down the ladder, using the handrails to ease his left side.
“Just spit it out,” he said, turning toward her. He was out of breath.
She looked away.
“Jessica, look at me.”
It was the same tone of voice her father always used when he was angry. The same order. The same words.
She could remember that horrible day when Daddy had called her into his study. Colton hadn’t been arrested yet, but the gossip had started and Daddy had gotten wind of it. “How could you have been so stupid?” he’d asked, confirming in one short sentence that he’d believed the lies people were telling about her.
“I didn’t do any of those things they’re talking abou
t,” she’d said, defiantly meeting her father’s angry gaze.
“Don’t you lie to me,” he’d said, and when she’d refused to back down, he’d locked her in her room for an entire day—the day Colton was arrested.
Enraged, Daddy had called Uncle Joe and told his brother-in-law, who was the chief of police at the time, to make Colton’s life miserable. And Uncle Joe had taken care of things, arresting Colton for possession of a couple of joints. The criminal justice system had taken care of the rest, sending him away for a year.
The next day, when Daddy told her what he’d done, she’d stood on Granny’s precious Persian rug studying the swirling patterns as a tidal wave of remorse hit her. Colton’s arrest had always been her fault.
“Look at me,” Daddy had demanded.
And when she’d looked up, his cold gray eyes had bored a hole right into her middle. “Are you ready to tell the truth?” he’d asked.
She’d met his stare and told him the truth. But he didn’t believe it.
Three days later, he’d sent her away to a strict boarding school for teens with behavioral problems. On the day she’d left, he’d said, “When you apologize and tell me the truth, you can come home.”
“Jessica?” Topher’s voice pierced the toxic fog of her memories. “Please look at me.”
His tone was nothing like Daddy’s now that she thought about it. Her father had demanded. Topher was merely asking. But the words were the same, and it was more than she could bear.
“No,” she raged. “No, I won’t. I won’t look at you just because you demand it. I won’t tell lies for you just because you’d prefer to hear them. I won’t apologize for anything I did. I just won’t.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me lies,” he said. “I can take the truth. Whatever it is.”
His tone was so gentle that she finally met his gaze, stunned by the fact that he was astonishingly handsome, even with the scars marring his face, even with the eye patch. And he wasn’t wearing his anger on his sleeve right now. He wasn’t staring at her the same way Daddy had stared that day.
“That’s better,” he said softly. “I like it when you look right at me. It gives me hope or something, because the truth is, not many people look at me anymore. I’m as ugly as sin.”
“No—”
“Yes. I am. And it’s a kind of armor. Because it means that you could take me to your darkest nightmare and I could endure it because I’ve already experienced the worst that life can hand out.”
“They didn’t believe me,” she said. “And you know what? They weren’t the first or the last ones not to believe me. Sometimes it feels like no one ever believes me. I tell the truth, and it’s like…I don’t know…spitting in the wind or something.” She shook her head as a knot the size of Alaska lodged in her throat.
“Who didn’t believe you?”
“My parents. Daddy.” She hauled in a big breath. “He believed all the gossip everyone told about me. And when I insisted that it wasn’t true, he called me a liar and sent me away to a school for troubled teens.
“It’s worse than that, really. He never let me come back. He insisted that I apologize for things I never did in order to be allowed back into the family.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you think I should have lied to him?” she asked in an angry tone. A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. “Because I was so damn stubborn, you know. I was determined to have my truth. And I lost my father because of it. I might have lost my mother too. It took fourteen years before I finally gave in.”
“You gave in? Why?”
She nodded as more tears trickled out of her eyes. “It’s crazy and complicated. The more important question is why I defied them in the first place.”
“No.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t really defiance. I was trying to prove something. You know, my family was pretty religious. We went to church every Sunday, and I got my weekly dose of how important it was to love. To love everyone.
“And when I got older, I decided I’d love Colton. Not the way people talked about us. But, you know, I’d make him my friend. Just to prove something. Just to underscore my father’s hypocrisy. Because he was good at loving certain people and looking down his nose at others.
“And boy, that backfired on me. For a very long time, I thought hate was more powerful than love.”
“Why on earth did you ever come home?”
“Because I don’t really believe that. Believing that hate always trumps love is a horrible way to live.” Her voice shook, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. “And when Momma got sick…” She looked away, unable to say another word.
When Momma had gotten sick, Jessica had been ready for forgiveness. She’d been through therapy, and she’d been willing to accept the lie for a chance to reconcile.
After fourteen years of standing on principle, accepting the lie seemed so simple. And the reward was salvaging her relationship with Momma and Granny.
But now maybe she wasn’t so sure.
She took a shuddering breath and stared out one of the porthole windows. The clouds were gathering on the horizon, and the storm outside matched the one in her chest. “So, the simple answer to your complicated question is that I didn’t go away to have Colton’s baby. I was sent to a place called Longwood Academy for Girls for the purpose of recovering from my addictions.” She let go of a strangled laugh. “I was somewhat notorious there because I was the only student who was still a virgin. I got an education there, but maybe not the one my daddy wanted me to get.”
“Didn’t anyone at this school realize you didn’t belong there?”
“Sure. I never failed a drug test, not even before I was sent there. But Daddy was determined, not because he really thought I was doing drugs, but because my actions had humiliated him.
“My counselor tried to get my parents to take me back. But they refused. Mrs. Mulgrew was my savior. She helped me apply to college and get a scholarship. Without her, I would never have gotten my degree. As it is, I have a huge amount of student debt I’m still carrying, but I’m luckier than most. I have a professional certification.”
“I am so sorry.”
She headed toward the stairs, desperate to get away from the pity in his voice. But before she could reach the stairwell, Topher grabbed her by the arm, just as he’d done a few days ago. The touch was much the same as before. Oddly gentle.
And this time it had the opposite effect. Instead of unleashing a panic, it became a lifeline, like the flotation device she’d shoved at Topher a few days ago. His hand on her wrist pulled her up from the depths and saved her from drowning.
In the next instant, she found herself pulled hard against his chest, his warm hand cupping the back of her head, his deep voice rumbling in her ear.
“Oh, Jess, I am so sorry that happened to you. Let me hold you up for a while.”
Chapter Fifteen
Topher held Jessica close as she cried, and his heart broke for her. He knew in some ways what it felt like to be abandoned. His mother had died when he was young, and everyone said he and his dad had taken a long time to get over it.
But Topher didn’t remember much of that time. His memories were filled with big family gatherings at Howland House, Aunt Mary’s wonderful cakes, sailing with Granddad, camping out on the island. And making his father proud because of his ability to throw a football.
He’d lived a golden life. He’d been loved. Hell, he’d been smothered at times by the women in his family, every one of whom wanted to make up for the mother he’d lost.
He’d told Jessica that he could take anything she could dish, but he wondered. Life had thrown him a horrible curveball. But he’d never been alone.
His family had gathered around him. Not merely Ashley and Karen and Sandra, but all of his cousins. They called him. They badgered him. They pushed him. And yes, they tried to protect him. Because they loved him. No matter what.
Jessica had n
ever been loved unconditionally, had she? In a lot of ways, she’d had a rougher time of it than he ever had. She deserved a few breaks. She deserved to be wrapped up and taken care of.
He held her a little tighter as she cried out her sorrow, burying his fingers in her hair and taking some of her weight on his shaky legs. By the time the storm of her tears had broken, the distant roll of thunder reached him through the thick lighthouse walls.
She lifted her head. Her eyes puffy and tear-swollen, her nose red and runny. She was still beautiful.
He let her go when she stepped out of the embrace and turned, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. He wished he was the kind of guy who carried a handkerchief. It would have been kind of romantic or noble or something to be in a position to supply one.
But he’d never carried a handkerchief in his life, proving once again that he was piss-poor hero material.
Once she’d dried the tears from her cheeks as best she could, she turned toward him, her face a beautiful mess. “Was that thunder I just heard?”
He nodded. “I’m a little worried about the boat. We should probably get back to Bachelor’s Delight and batten down the hatches. And then we can lie low until the storm passes over.”
She glanced back at him like a wounded fawn, not unlike the animal he’d swerved to avoid on the night of his accident.
He recognized that doubtful look. She knew. She understood. He didn’t even have to explain. On some deep level, she understood his struggle to live a normal life. He couldn’t hide his scars, but she had managed to hide hers. He was trying to escape to this island, but she’d been living on one for years.
The thunder rolled again.
“We should really see about the boat,” she said, backing away. Did she realize they were more alike than they were different?
“Yeah, it’s going to take me a while going down. Down is harder than up, if you can believe it.”
“Do you want me to go ahead?” she asked.
He hated the idea of sending her out into the storm to do something he ought to be able to do for himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”