Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story)

  Stacy’s eyes glossed over with tears. “I had no idea he was this bad. If I had known, maybe I could have—”

  “He’s going to try, Stacy. We’ll get him through this.” Allie squeezed her trembling hand and felt her bones, so fine and delicate, slide beneath the skin.

  Moments later, Matthew appeared. Both his eyes were swollen up like blue and yellow golf balls had been stuck under his cheek bones, his bottom lip black and puffy from the angry tear Allie had glued back together; but he looked a lot better than he had. His hair was dark brown, still damp from his shower, finger combed out of his face, but sure to flop forward again once it dried. When he walked toward them, she noticed his side shuddered beneath his tee-shirt with every step, like his body was resisting, even as his stubborn will kept him moving on like it was no big deal.

  Wary eyes rested on Stacy as he stopped in front of them. “You ready to get out of here?” His voice was a deep rasp.

  Stacy’s hand curled into a small fist and plowed into Matthew, square in his chest. “If you hadn’t already been beaten to a pulp, I swear . . .”—her fist hauled back and hit him again—“I am so mad at you right now.” She was trembling, eyes flashing up at him, full of lightening.

  Matthew’s body sagged under the weight of all his misery and self-loathing, shoulders rounded over his chest. “I know,” he whispered.

  “Don’t you ever do that again. You hear me?” Stacy’s voice wavered and she had to clear her throat. Twice. Matthew pulled her into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of her head. His eyes, wide green pools of despair, found Allie’s over a ring of black curls.

  Allie grasped onto his hand and squeezed hard. She was in this with him.

  A shudder trilled up his spine and his Adam’s apple jerked up and down in his throat. “Let’s get out of this place.”

  ***

  Allie walked into her home alone a little after midnight with the ache of a thousand years in her bones. Matthew had grudgingly agreed to call Adam’s therapist friend first thing in the morning to set up an appointment. Allie and Stacy were going to have to stay on him, though. Matthew was less than enthusiastic about seeing a shrink again.

  When Allie stepped into the little family room she stopped, observing life on another planet.

  Lainie, Jennifer, and the rest of the crew were sprawled out across the floor, their voices raised in cheers and laughter as two of the guys were locked in competition at the center of them all. Curled up on their backs, feet touching, they both had hold of a broomstick that was between them, straining to pull the other guy over their heads. Beer bottles were spread around the floor along with paper plates and a couple of gutted out pizza boxes.

  The whole scene smacked of youth.

  Carefree.

  Alive and vibrant.

  Made Allie feel like she was a million years old.

  Suddenly the dam broke that she’d been holding back on the car ride home and rivulets of hot tears leaked from her eyes. Not wanting to spoil the other’s fun, she quickly ran her palms over her wet face and stumbled into her bedroom. She shucked her clothes, still stained with Matthew’s blood, and considered just tossing them in the trash. She had no desire to be reminded of any of what had transpired this evening.

  Or last evening, she thought as she read her little digital clock . . . it was morning now, she supposed.

  She put on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt—wanting some kind of insulation from the chill that consumed her—pulled her sheets free of her bed, and curled into as small of a ball as she could manage deep within the womb of her bedding.

  Only minutes later there was a soft knock on her door and then Lainie’s voice muffled through the other side. “Are you alright, Allie?”

  Allie pulled herself up. “Come in. It’s open.”

  The crack of light from the hallway flooded through her room as the door opened and Lainie came inside.

  Allie leaned over to turn on her bedside lamp. “Hi,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she could get through a whole sentence. Her voice wobbled already, as it was.

  Lainie’s face was lined with worry. “Oh, honey. What is it?” She rushed to the side of Allie’s bed and wrapped her arms around her. The warmth of Lainie’s arms and the soft tickle of hair in Allie’s nose just did her in. Tore all of the strength she’d wrapped around her away and left her raw.

  Allie simply curled into Lainie and lost it all over her, sobs convulsing all the way through her and deep into her soul. She felt hands in her hair, soothing her, and leaned into the touch, desperate for the comfort.

  “What’s wrong, Allie? Is it your mom?”

  Allie sniffed and pulled back enough to wipe at her eyes and nose. Not that it did anything to ebb the flow of tears down her cheeks.

  She was just so exhausted.

  “No”—she cleared her throat—“Mom’s fine.”

  “What is it, then?” Wide, blue eyes met hers.

  “It’s been a really long week. That’s all.”

  “Oh, Allie, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I just need to sleep, I think.” Maybe for a few hundred years.

  “Thank god it’s Friday, huh?” Lainie gave her a sad little smile.

  “For sure.” Allie sniffed again.

  There was another rap at the door and Jennifer poked her head in. When she saw the disheveled state that Allie was in, she started. “Oh. Sorry. I . . . ah . . . didn’t know—”

  “It’s okay.” Allie gave her a pathetic lift of the lips, knowing she must look like a total car wreck. She’d always been a bad crier. The red and blotchy, puffy kind.

  Jennifer fidgeted. “Okay.” She looked to Lainie. “We’re gonna take off for the night. Already cleaned up.”

  “Cool. Alright.” Lainie replied. “Mind locking up when you leave?”

  “No prob.” Jennifer’s eyes softened and turned back to Allie. “Bye, Allie.”

  Once the door clicked shut again, Lainie sighed and hugged her tighter. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Sorry I ruined your night.”

  Lainie waved the apology aside with a hand. “Don’t even, Allie. We’d run out of beer by the time you got home, anyway. Party over, right there.” She grinned.

  Allie couldn’t help but return the smile. “Thanks for taking me in. And for putting up with me.”

  “Stop, would ya? Nothing to put up with. And, besides, I get to see the merc flash his ass anytime I want if you stick around.”

  Allie’s giggles quickly eroded into sobs. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to somehow fill the hollowness in her chest.

  “Is that what this is? Matthew?” Lainie’s lips thinned. When Allie only cried harder, Lainie added, “You want me to kick the bastard’s perfect ass?”

  More laughing, mixed into sobs. Boy, was she bipolar tonight or what?

  As Allie lay down, Lainie snuggled up next to her, still stroking her hair. When her tears had dried up enough she trusted herself to speak, she whispered. “I’m in love with him.”

  “Oh, honey. I know.”

  Allie rolled over to look at her with wide eyes. “You do?”

  Lainie’s lips quirked to the side and she nodded. “It’s pretty obvious.”

  Aftershocks from her crying jag: a great shudder ran through her body as she sucked in a breath. “I don’t know how to cope with the feelings I have for him. They’re so intense. He’s like a drug. I know he’s got to be bad for me, but I can’t breathe without him.”

  Lainie tucked some hair behind Allie’s ear. “Does he not treat you good? I mean, obviously he’s gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean a thing if he’s a d-bag.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” she sighed. “He’s got baggage. Like a mountain of it. And it’s crushing him. Geeze”—she shook her head, and laughed without humor—“how do I end up in such a crazy mess? Why can’t I be normal—have a normal rela
tionship like you—?”

  “—Me?” Lainie gave a low chuckle. “Me and Jason, you mean? Sorry, honey, but there ain’t nothin’ normal about me and Jason. We’re pretty damn screwed up; and I know he’s bad for me. Problem with being in love with someone is you don’t get to choose who you fall for. All I know is, once you have it, it’s better to be miserable in love than alone, knowing what you had; or what you could have had. That can kill ya.”

  Chapter twenty-two

  “Hey, Allie! Wake up! You’re gonna be late!” Lainie’s voice shattered into her ear canal with all the efficiency of a freight train.

  Allie blinked as Lainie’s bright eyes slowly came into focus. Too damn bright. What the hell was she doing, being all happy, happy, happy, when it was so early, anyway?

  “Up ‘nd at’em, Sleeping Beauty!” Lainie chirped as she tugged Allie’s comforter off her butt and onto the floor. Slowly, Allie stretched. “Mmmph,” she complained. What was that buzzing noise? She rolled over onto her side, doing her best to ignore Lainie as she searched for the sound.

  Alarm clock. Right.

  Her hand flailed around until she finally smacked the snooze button on top. And then she knocked the whole thing onto the ground. Served it right for being a pain in the ass at . . .

  What time was it, anyway?

  She rolled onto her belly and hung halfway off the bed before she saw the small, digital screen.

  “Crap!” Seven o’clock!

  Lainie chuckled as she tugged Allie to her feet. “You’re a lost cause, girl.” She shook her head. “That thing has been going off for over an hour. You drove Jason right out of the house.”

  Oh, Jason slept over. No wonder Lainie was so annoyingly chipper.

  It had been a week now since the fiasco at the UMMA and Matthew’s first therapy appointment was this morning. He was supposed to pick her up in . . .crap—!

  Twenty-five minutes!

  Stumbling into the bathroom, she took care of the essentials, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that she hadn’t seen Matthew since he’d received his self-inflicted beating. He’d had to go out of town bright and early Saturday morning for some kind of body guarding gig. They hadn’t been able to really talk about . . . anything, actually. The whole damn situation felt painfully unfinished.

  Well, good thing they were going to a shrink, then, huh?

  She stood; hands planted on hips in front of her closet, and tried to find something that was good supportive-girlfriend material. Finally, when she’d picked out, and then put back the same navy blue sweater three times she growled, “Come on, Allie! It’s not that big of a deal. Just pick something!”

  Boy, she was nervous to see him.

  Her eyes squeezed shut as dread washed over her anew. The next twenty-four hours were going to be emotional, and she wanted to be there for him if he needed her, but she had no idea what to expect. She’d had all kinds of images of Matthew flipping out and going all MMA on some poor little old guy with a notebook.

  Thank goodness for Stacy.

  Since Matthew had baled and Stacy still had a few days before she had to go back home to Chicago, they’d gotten together a few times. It had been really good to talk candidly to someone who understood what she was going through. She couldn’t bring herself to let Lainie in on all of Matthew’s problems. The words just seemed to stick in her throat every time she thought about telling her. Not that Allie didn’t trust her. It had been more about keeping Matthew’s pain private as much as possible. And she’d already let Adam in on it—major cringe, there.

  She finally grabbed a tan, V-neck shirt and jerked it over her out of control morning hair, followed by a pair of her favorite, go-anywhere skinny jeans.

  Hallelujah! The clothes were on at last!

  Hard decision made, she finished the ensemble off with a thin belt, which she looped around her waist. She combed her mane of lion’s hair into submission with brutal force then left it in a loose, auburn wave down her back. Matthew liked it that way, loved to run his fingers through the soft locks. Allie’s nose curled up with her pursed frown. Hope he didn’t end up tearing it all out by the roots this morning.

  As for makeup—preferring the KISS theory (Keep It Simple, Stupid)—she brushed on a light layer of powder, swiped some mascara over her lashes so she wouldn’t look like a hairless albino, and finished up with a swipe of light pink lip gloss. The result was pale, but pretty.

  When the doorbell rang, she had just enough time to roll a pair of UGGs up past her knees while stumbling down the hallway to answer the door—heart in her throat.

  And there Matthew stood on the other side, in all his panty-dropping glory.

  The early morning sun shone warm on his back and cast his hair in a glorious tousle of copper around his face. Dressed down from his usual work attire of black fatigues, he was wearing a pair of dark jeans that settled low around his hips. A light blue, button down, long sleeve shirt—the cuffs rolled up to his elbows—hugged his chest and abs in a way that was downright hazardous to Allie’s health. Made her think of the assets hiding behind all that fabric and denim, and how much she’d love to run her tongue over them.

  His square jaw was freshly shaven. A light trace of aftershave hung beneath his cologne. His mouth curled up into that small half-smile that she loved, making his green eyes crinkle up at the corners, just enough to show that he was happy. He’d look like one of Michelangelo’s sculpted angels if not for the ghost of yellow and black bruising that still clung to the skin beneath one eye. Gave the impression he preferred red jerseys to white. No wonder he was so hot!

  She considered ditching their appointment to jump him. A whole week without Matthew had sent her libido into some major withdrawals. “Hi,” she murmured. There will be no jumping of bones allowed on the way to the therapist.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  Geeze, that voice.

  Pure sex and chocolate.

  His fingers traced the line of her jaw and then curled around the nape of her neck. When she stumbled forward into his warm kiss his arms wrapped around her hipbones to steady her; his mouth moving over hers in ways that should be illegal.

  Pulling back way too soon for her liking, he smiled. “Ready to go?”

  “Umm.” She blinked up at him. Boy, he knew how to scramble her circuits. “Yeah. Let me just get my purse.”

  When she turned for the door his fingers gripped her elbow. “Allie,” he chuckled, “your purse is on your shoulder.”

  Huh? She looked down and blushed when she saw it hanging at her side. “Oh. Duh.”

  “Damn, I missed you.” He laughed again.

  Towing her over to his Escalade, he opened the door and helped her up into the passenger side seat. She ogled him through the tinted front windows while he loped around to the driver’s side and got in.

  As he pulled out onto the main roadway, Allie realized that she was fiddling with the lap band of her seatbelt and forced her fingers to stop. “Are you still okay with doing this?” she asked.

  His mouth tightened a little. “We’re going, aren’t we?”

  Right. Dumb question.

  “I just mean”—why was she pushing him on this?—“You know. You haven’t said anything about it. And I know you weren’t very happy with your last therapist.” She winced, but she had to get it out before they got there. Had to make sure he was okay.

  “I told you I’d try, Allie.” He sighed and looked at her. “I want us to work, and this is probably our only way to make sure we will.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Her gaze fell to her lap where her fingers had formed a pretzel around each other.

  When she peeked up at him, his jaw clenched, and to Allie’s surprise, he added, “Therapy’s dumb. I hate it. The whole thing. Whining to some stuffed up asshole about your problems because you’re not man enough to fix them on your own.” He shook his head and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. His knuckles were split open on his right hand—still fresh with scabs tha
t could only have formed within the last day or so. Her stomach roiled. He’d been in a fight.

  She swallowed. Would she ever get used to being with someone so physical?

  “What on earth did you do to your hands?”

  He gave her a tight smile. “Some asshole stalker wouldn’t take no for an answer when the woman I was guarding tried to get past him and into her hotel. Took him over behind the building to have a calm little chat about keeping his hands to himself, and would ya believe it, he accidently fell on my fist.”

  Allie laughed. “Oh, Matthew.”

  The boyish grin and set of matching dimples he rewarded her with just about lit up the whole SUV cabin.

  Shaking her head and trying to smother her giggles beneath a disapproving scowl, she looked out the passenger side window. Two seconds later she was smiling again. Oh, what was she going to do with her knight in shining armor?

  Why on earth would he worry about someone questioning his manliness? He had enough testosterone running through his veins to supply an entire nation of eunuchs.

  She turned back to him. “There’s nothing wrong with it, Matthew. If you need help, then you should get it. You wouldn’t leave a broken bone to set on its own just because you thought it was wimpy to see a doctor, would you?” She bit her lip, thinking of the superglue again.

  Dang it, he probably would leave a broken bone.

  He sighed again and his hand ran through his hair, making it stand up over the crown of his head. “It’s stupid, Allie. I don’t even think he’ll be able to fix anything.”

  He was nervous, she realized.

  Oh.

  Why was that such a revelation?

  She reached out to squeeze his thigh and felt the warmth and hardness of his muscles move beneath her fingers. “We’ll give it a shot, okay. If he sucks you can tell him he’s a crackpot fraud and we’ll go. Try something else.”

  His mouth turned up at the corner. “Crackpot fraud, eh?”

  She nodded and grinned. “I wonder if he’ll wear one of those tweed vests and make you lay down on a couch so he can hypnotize you into barking like a dog or something.”