Hold Me Until Morning

by Christina Phillips

  It wasn’t likely. She’d only been ten.

  She dug into her salad. He thought they’d moved on. Then she looked up at him, and he knew they hadn’t.

  “About that night…” Her voice trailed away, and she bit her lip. She obviously wasn’t sure whether it was something he was willing to discuss with her.

  He never discussed it with anyone. He frowned at his steak, but Paris didn’t say anything else. So of course he had to look at her.

  She gave him a faint smile. “You can tell me to back off, but I only know what Scott told me later—and he always liked to…embellish things.”

  He doubted Scott had embellished anything that’d happened that night. There’d been no need.

  “What did Scott tell you?” He picked up his soda and took a long swallow. Beer would’ve been better but hell, he could live without it while he was with her.

  He could probably live without another beer forever.

  She twirled her fork through her salad and avoided his gaze. “He said if Alex hadn’t done anything, you would’ve ended up in the morgue instead of the ER.”

  It sounded like the kind of thing Scott would say.

  He gave a noncommittal grunt and started on his steak.

  “You mean it’s true? He wasn’t exaggerating?”

  He heaved a sigh and caught her gaze. Her gorgeous green eyes were fixed on him with something that looked like horror. Seeing her look so worried for him did something strange and warm to his insides.

  “I knew what I was doing.” The words were out before he even knew he was going to say anything. “I could never keep my mouth shut around my dad.”

  “That doesn’t mean you deserved what happened.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but she sounded so furious he forgot all about his steak. “How can you even think that?”

  He’d thought about it a lot over the years. Not so much the fact he’d ended up with broken bones and a concussion, but because if he hadn’t pushed his dad over the edge then Alex wouldn’t have become involved, Social Services wouldn’t have poked their noses in, and their dad…

  Who the hell knew what would’ve happened to his dad.

  He didn’t want to talk about it. He never talked about it, but there was something about Paris that made him want to spill his guts.

  He tore his gaze from her and stared at his plate. This guilt was his. No one else needed to hear it—especially not her.

  She laid her hand on top of his and slid her thumb beneath his palm. “Cooper.” Her whisper was no longer filled with anger. “None of that’s your fault.”

  He stroked his thumb over her skin. Why did he feel this burning need to tell her? It was like a rock lodged in the center of his chest. Fuck it. How had they started talking about that night in the first place?

  “I should’ve just left him alone in the kitchen.” So much for shutting up. But the words pounded in his head and spilled into his throat, choking him. “All I wanted was for him to look at me as if I wasn’t a piece of shit on his boot. I don’t remember my mom—I was only six when she died—but I can’t forget that look on his face whenever he caught sight of me.”

  Paris’s hand tightened around his, and he dragged his reluctant gaze up to hers. She swallowed and pressed her lips together, her eyes glassy.

  She didn’t say anything.

  Shut the fuck up. But it was as if he’d pulled a scab from a festering wound, and the poison just kept on coming.

  “I don’t even remember Alex hauling him off me. I was well out of it by then.” He fisted his other hand on the table and stared at it. All he could see was Jackson’s battered face as he told Cooper the cops had dragged Alex off to juvie.

  “It was your dad’s fault.” The worried look was back on her face. “You do know that, right?”

  This was getting way too heavy. He didn’t want to spoil whatever it was he had with Paris with the ugly brutality of his childhood. He tried to laugh, to lighten the mood, and turn it all into a joke, but found he couldn’t.

  “It was my fault, Paris.”

  When she opened her mouth to disagree, he threaded his fingers through hers. “Not the beating.” He tugged her hand up and grazed her knuckles along his jaw. It felt good. “But what happened to Alex. Juvie changed him, and that was my fault.”

  She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Had he really thought telling her would shift the guilt lodged inside? Because it hadn’t. He felt worse.

  “No.” There was an oddly thoughtful note in her voice. “What happened to Alex wasn’t your fault.”

  She didn’t understand. “If he hadn’t beaten the crap out of our dad, he wouldn’t have been locked up. He’s never told J or me what happened while he was inside, but something must’ve. Because when he came out…” Cooper’s voice trailed away. How could he explain how his brother had changed?

  She had really summed it up when she’d said Alex was contained.

  “I’m not saying he should’ve been locked up. I’m just saying…you’re not responsible for what Alex did that night. He made his own choices.”

  “Because of me.”

  She frowned and cupped her chin in her free hand. “Yes, because of you. But you didn’t make his decisions for him, did you? I mean, you don’t have some superpower where you can make people do stuff with your mind, do you?”

  If it had been anyone other than Paris who said that to him, he’d have thought they were fucking with him. But he would never have had this conversation with anyone else but her, and he knew she wasn’t being sarcastic.

  She was serious.

  He leaned across the table. “Babe, I ruined his life.”

  She pulled his hand toward her and pressed his knuckles against her lips. “Yeah, I can see how you ruined his life. He owns his own business, drives a convertible, and wears designer gear.”

  “That’s not—” he cut himself off and frowned as two things hit him between the eyes. One, she had discovered a hell of a lot about Alex during a couple of hours with his gran and Ella, and secondly, her comment struck him as being strangely similar to his when he’d disagreed that her mom had sacrificed so much for Paris’s career.

  A shudder inched along the back of his neck. He’d never looked at it from that angle before. “Alex would always have made it.”

  “I’m not saying he wouldn’t. I’m just saying you’re taking an awful lot of credit for the ways things turned out.”

  He stared at her. How had she done that? Taken his guilt and managed to turn it into—what exactly?

  Pride?

  “That’s fucking twisted.” He wasn’t sure whether he was annoyed or not.

  She grinned at him. “That’s me. Twisted as fuck.”

  “Huh.” For about the hundredth time since they’d left her cabin he squashed the urge to pull that wig off her head. He guessed he wasn’t that annoyed with her after all. “So…you definitely due back in Hollywood tomorrow?”

  She pressed kisses along his knuckles, without taking her gaze from him. He’d never known his knuckles had so many nerve endings.

  Paris hoped Cooper couldn’t guess how she leaped to crazy conclusions at his question. He might just be making conversation.

  No, he isn’t.

  “I have a photo shoot at the end of the week, but I don’t have to go back before then.”

  He worked his fingers free from her, and picked up his knife. Without looking at her he said, “I’ve got a couple of local jobs this week. You want to stay at my place for a few days?”

  Yes! She’d been right. It was hard not to punch the air. She didn’t even pretend to think about her answer. “Sure. Why not?”

  He glanced up at her, fork halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?” He sounded slightly shocked that she’d agreed. “Tonight?”

  “Of course tonight.” She laughed at the look on his face. “I can’t wait to see where you live.”

  Just before they left, he went to the restroom, and as she watched him strol
l across the restaurant, more than a few heads turned his way. He didn’t seem to notice.

  The besotted smile on her face faded. She’d always known that night twelve years ago had been bad, but she’d only been a kid at the time, and Scott’s graphic stories had never seemed quite real.

  It was a good thing Cooper’s dad was dead already, because she wanted to gut the sadistic bastard. When she remembered the haunted expression on Cooper’s face as he told her how his dad used to look at him, her chest hurt.

  Her mom always used to say the Grayson boys would end up in jail, or worse. She could only guess what her mom meant by worse—but whatever. Her mom had been wrong. They’d turned out fine.

  Cooper had turned out way better than fine.

  She was in danger of having a ridiculous smile on her face when he returned so she dug into her purse for her cell. Might as well get it over with.

  She sent her mom a text, telling her she’d be back by the end of the week and not to worry as she was in their old neighborhood staying with Cooper Grayson.

  Then she turned off her cell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The following afternoon while Cooper worked, Paris shopped. Not that he realized what she was doing. From what he’d said earlier before he left she got the impression he thought she’d be hiding out in his apartment until he got home.

  A squishy warmth stole through her. His apartment was only about a ten minutes’ drive from his gran’s house but it might’ve been in a different world. A one bedroom cute conversion in an old 1920s brick building, it had real potential—not that he’d done much with it.

  Would he mind if she bought a few things for his apartment? She wanted to do something for him in thanks for all the work he’d done in her yard. God, that had been fun. She’d never done anything like that before. Maybe they could even spend weekends together fixing up the cabin.

  This was definitely more than a fling. It wasn’t all in her mind. Tonight she’d take the plunge and ask him if he wanted to get serious. As in, officially dating serious.

  She had a big dreamy smile on her face, and she couldn’t seem to hide it. She was getting a few sideway glances as well, but she didn’t care. If people wanted to take pics of her on their cells, let them.

  She’d left her wig on the bed. She didn’t need it anymore, and she didn’t need a bodyguard either.

  Her cell went off. She checked it and sighed. After turning her cell back on that morning she’d discovered her mom had left half a dozen messages since last night. She had to speak to her sooner or later.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “You’ve been with Cooper Grayson since you left here?” Her mom sounded very calm. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  Paris raised her eyebrows. She’d expected her mom to go bat shit crazy. It was a relief she didn’t want a full explanation. “Um, sorry.”

  “Scott’s just told me he asked Cooper to look after you. If I’d known that I wouldn’t have worried so much.”

  Her mom was being very understanding, considering how both she and Scott had misled her. A twinge of guilt ate through her. “I did tell you not to worry.” She hoped she didn’t sound too defensive.

  “Scott tells me Cooper’s contract ended this morning, honey. Have you hired him for a few more days then?”

  She tightened her grip on her cell. Her mom made it sound like she was hiring Cooper for sex or something. Well, obviously her mom didn’t think she was having sex with him. If she knew that, she’d be spitting bricks.

  Paris didn’t know what she and Cooper had together, but it had nothing to do with business. Now wasn’t exactly the best time to tell her mom her plans, but the truth was—there never would be the right time.

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “I really like Cooper. I want to see how things work out between us.”

  The silence was ominous. Why hadn’t she let the call go to voicemail?

  Finally her mom took a deep breath. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Her face heated. No one was taking any notice of her, but she suddenly felt horribly on display. She edged toward a storefront and leaned against the wall. It was better than standing in the middle of the street while her mom asked her about her sex life.

  “That’s really not any of your—”

  “Honey, I know I upset you when you saw me with Anson.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t want to talk about—”

  “But it would kill me to know that’s the reason why you jumped straight into Cooper Grayson’s bed.”

  Anger sparked through her. “That’s not the reason I— That’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all.”

  “Look, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” If she didn’t end this call she was going to say something she’d regret.

  “Scott often goes out with him—and I know the kind of things they get up to. He’s not the type to settle for one girl, Paris.”

  The anger stirred again. “You’ve no right to say that. You don’t know him, Mom.”

  “I know he likes to drink. I don’t blame him for that, considering the childhood he had, but you need to be careful. You can’t be with someone who can’t live without alcohol. You need support and someone who understands, honey.”

  God, her mom had a nerve. Every fucking party and event she attended was flooded with alcohol. Her mom had never given that as a reason why she shouldn’t go.

  “It so happens he does understand.” She hadn’t quite realized that until this moment. And while it had only been a couple of days ago that she’d told him, he hadn’t touched a beer since. In fact, he’d dumped his stash from the cabin into the garden shed, even though she kept telling him it was fine. “Actually, he doesn’t see why I need to keep it all a big secret, either.”

  “I see.” There was a strangled note in her mom’s voice. “What else have you told him?”

  “I’m not talking about this anymore. I’ll call in a few days and let you know when to expect me.” With that she hung up. God, she needed a coffee.

  It was almost seven before Cooper returned home. Strange, he’d never really thought of it as home before. It was just a place where he crashed, occasionally cooked himself something to eat, and had friends over to watch a game on the big screen. He’d only bought the minimum of furniture and a lot of his crap was still packed in boxes.

  But at odd times during the day he’d found himself looking forward to coming back here, just so he could see Paris again.

  He’d never really looked too far into the future. He’d been renting this apartment for a couple of years and it was fine for him. Both his brothers had taken out hellish mortgages to buy their places, and he’d never really understood why.

  Now, for the first time, he did.

  He let out a long breath. He wanted to ask her to move in with him. Until last night he hadn’t even thought that far ahead. And now he couldn’t think of anything else. Except why would she want to?

  But when he’d asked her to stay with him for a few more days, she didn’t hesitate. He was still kind of shocked by that. He half expected her to have disappeared first thing that morning, but she’d cooked him pancakes again.

  He paused, front door key in hand. It was one thing asking her to stay for a few days. It was another to ask her if she wanted to move in permanently when she was on vacation from college. And while a part of him still couldn’t believe she’d want anything longer than a quick fling with him, there was another part of him—a big part—that desperately hoped she did.

  Which meant he had to think ahead. His apartment wasn’t big enough for two. Hell, he still couldn’t believe the amount of stuff she’d taken to the cabin for just a week. He wasn’t sure he could imagine how big a closet she’d need for real.

  He’d make sure she knew he’d find them somewhere bigger. Fuck the repayments.

  The door swung open before he even got the key in the lock. Paris sto
od there, her gorgeous red-gold hair tumbling over her shoulders in the way he loved and there was a wicked smile on her face.

  “Had a good day at the office, dear?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that wiped all thoughts of ball-breaking mortgages from his mind. She pulled him into the apartment, and he kicked the door shut.

  “First time anyone’s greeted me like that.”

  “I should hope so.” She stepped away, hands on her hips. “Just so long as you’re not expecting anything to eat the minute you get home. Even I can see having pancakes more than once a day is kind of excessive.”

  He wound his arm around her waist and tugged her back. “You taking cooking classes at college, then?”

  She smacked his chest. “The hell I am. That’s what a housekeeper’s for.”

  “Bit of a princess really, aren’t you?”

  She squeezed his butt. “You love it.”

  He laughed as they entered his open plan living area, and then he stopped laughing. “Fuck me.”

  Paris tensed, but she didn’t pull out of his arms. “You don’t like it? I didn’t mean to…well, I mean it looks like you’ve only just moved in and not really got sorted. And I just wanted to do something as a thank you for everything, but you don’t need to keep any of it if you don’t want.”

  The apartment had stripped timber floors throughout. It’d never occurred to him to do anything else with it. Now a massive rug covered the floor in front of the flat screen, and huge cushions took up half the space on his two mismatched sofas.

  He blinked. There were even a couple of small square tables between the sofas, with modern looking lamps on them.

  “You’ve been shopping.” It was stating the glaringly obvious, but he had no idea what else to say. Whatever he’d thought she had done today, buying stuff for the apartment hadn’t come close.

  “I do love shopping,” she said. “I have a knack for it.”

  “Good thing one of us has. I hate shopping.”

  She frowned. “Oh, well, I don’t love grocery shopping. In case you were wondering. Takeout okay?”