Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  It was remembering the way she’d shivered in his arms last night. It was wanting to have her like that again.

  “You don’t understand,” she said as she hugged herself.

  Oh, like that was something different? When had he ever? He shrugged, still trying to slow his breathing. “So? Explain it to me, then. I’m listening.”

  For a long time she said nothing. And then she sighed. “Look, Ryan... when I came to your house last night I... well, I wasn’t just looking for sex.”

  He stared at her. He felt as though he’d been shot in the chest with one of the darts from her tranquilizer gun. His lungs felt paralyzed. “Siobhan. Last night— It wasn’t just about sex for me either. Really. I—”

  She glared at him impatiently. “I know that! What do you think I’m telling you?”

  He shook his head. He had no idea what she was getting at. That part was real clear. But as for the rest? He couldn’t ever remember feeling this clueless in his life.

  “It was always enough before.” She turned her head away as she continued. “It was quick and anonymous and…and cheap. But it drove the demons away, you know? At least for a little while it did. And that was all I was looking for. Until you came along.”

  She looked back at him then, her eyes dull with some emotion he couldn’t fathom. “I knew you were going to be trouble, Ryan. Deep down, I think I knew it, all along. Right from the start. These last few weeks— it wasn’t just sex I wanted. It was you. I wanted you.”

  He shrugged. “And now you got me. So what’s the problem?”

  “Oh, you still don’t understand. I don’t want to get involved like that, damn it. Not just with you, but with anyone. It’s too risky. And, trust me, you really don’t want to get involved with me, either.”

  “Too late,” he answered softly, as he got to his feet again. He’d had enough of this conversation. It wasn’t going to get them where they wanted to be and it was time to put a stop to it.

  “No, it’s not too late.” She tried to push him away as he took her in his arms again; but not hard enough. “Don’t say that. And... damn it, Ryan, stop that!”

  “Or what?” he asked, amused by the efforts she was making to try and free herself without hurting him. He pulled her closer, pinning her wrists behind her and trapping her against his chest. “What are you going to do now, huh? You gonna punch me? Kick me? Knock me down again?”

  She stopped fighting and glared at him. “I might. If you don’t quit acting like such a Neanderthal.”

  He couldn’t help teasing her. “You really want me flat on my back, Siobhan? You already had me like that, you know. Last night. But then, you had me a lot of ways, so maybe you don’t remember them all.”

  “Don’t make jokes about it,” she mumbled, her cheeks flaming.

  “Then don’t fight me on this.” He released her wrists, put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. “You just said that you want me. So, good. I want you, too. Why can’t we just—”

  “Because that’s not enough of a reason!”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s not the only reason, either. Is it? You need me, Siobhan. That’s the real reason you showed up at my door. C’mon, admit it.”

  “No. You’re wrong.” She shook her head. “I don’t need you, Ryan. I told you that once before. I don’t need anyone.”

  He smiled at her stubbornness. “Oh, sure you do. You’ve got a lot of needs, Siobhan. You need someone to give you a hand here at the center. And you need a lover in your bed.” He grabbed the wrist of her wounded arm, holding it up, where they could both see it. “And, Lord knows, woman, you definitely need a keeper! And—”

  He broke off, staring again at the angry red line that extended practically from her wrist to her elbow. At her white skin stained brown by the antiseptic. At the long line of incredibly neat, black stitches. Sure, she’d probably used an anesthetic, but even so... that had to have hurt like hell. She was an amazing woman, all right. He dropped her arm, lifted her chin on the edge of his hand and smiled into her face. “And sweetheart, this must be your lucky day. Because right now, you’ve got me for all those things.”

  “Why are you doing this?” She moaned, as he kissed her again.

  “I told you that last night. Because it feels good.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “You don’t have to fight me, Siobhan. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make you happy. To make us both happy.”

  “But I won’t make you happy,” she insisted.

  He sighed. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, okay? Are you really that afraid of a little happiness?”

  “Maybe I am.” She raised her head to look at him. “Bad things tend to happen when I get too happy.”

  Once again, he couldn’t resist teasing, “I’m not sure you even know how to be happy. Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong. If you want, I could give you some lessons—”

  She pulled away from him then. He let her go, and watched as she paced the floor. “I know all about being happy, Ryan. For the eight years before my daughters died I was so happy I should have been delirious. But it wasn’t enough for me. And I didn’t know what I had until it was too late.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Tilting his head to the side, he leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “Look, what happened to your family is terrible, but it was an accident, Siobhan. It certainly wasn’t your fault it happened.”

  “Oh, what do you know? That’s the real reason they’re dead. Because I had to be happy. Because I had to feel fulfilled. If I’d only stayed home that weekend. If I could only have been a better wife. Or a better mother. Or a better... a better person maybe.”

  “Siobhan—”

  She stared at him, eyes glittering. Her voice was harsh and hollow. “You don’t know, Ryan! You don’t know anything! Not about me, or, or— D’you wanna know where I was, that weekend when my daughters died? What I was doing? I was off getting laid, that’s what. I was shacked up on Catalina Island with a colleague from the Marine Institute.”

  She threw an arm out to gesture in the direction of the Bay. “While their little lungs were filling up with sea water I was busy pouring tequila down my throat. And I was shopping, Ryan. Because that was just sooo important. And eating serveche. And coming my brains out in a hotel room, overlooking the very same fucking ocean where my daughters were drowning!”

  “Stop it!” he ordered, grabbing her and holding her close. Her body was tense and trembling. “You think you could’ve saved them just by being a better person? Or that maybe your husband would’ve figured out how to sail, if you’d been off doing something else that weekend? It’s not your fault, Siobhan. Maybe you made some poor choices. And maybe you even have some reason to feel bad about cheating on your husband, but—”

  “Poor choices?” She pulled away a little, and scowled at him. “Bullshit. You just don’t get it, do you? This has nothing to do with choices or, or— And, for your information, I was not cheating on Tim! My marriage was over. We’d been separated for almost a year, at that point. And if we could’ve only agreed on some kind of custody arrangement, the goddamn divorce would have already been final. So don’t you dare start preaching to me about morality, or choices, or—”

  “Well, what’s this all about, then? You’re the one who brought it up, you know. I never asked what you were doing.”

  She sighed. “If I’d been home that weekend, Tim would have called me when the girls wanted to go out on the boat. Just like he always did. And I would’ve gone with them. And then probably nothing would have happened. They’d still be alive and—”

  “You’re guessing, Siobhan,” he said as he stroked her hair. “You’re grasping at straws. There’s no way for you to know if that’s true. If you’d gone with them... you could have ended up being killed as well.”

  “Maybe it would have been better if I had,” she muttered.

  He ignored that. “Besides, what makes you think he
would have called you? From everything you’ve told me, he sounds like the kind of jerk who’d think he’d be fine on his own.”

  “Well, now, there’s where you’re wrong.” She sighed wearily, and for just a moment she rested her head against his shoulder. “See, he was always calling me about things like that. Every single weekend. Those whole ten months we’d been apart. There was always something Tim wanted me to do for one of them. Some toy I had to bring over, because Beth had forgotten to pack it. Some special meal I had to prepare, ‘cause it was the only thing Emmie would eat. Some game they’d suddenly all decided they had to play, at eight o’clock, on a Saturday night, that required four players, not three.”

  When she raised her head, he wasn’t surprised to see the tears that gleamed in her eyes. “It was like, all of a sudden, I had three children, instead of two! Like I was the only person on the planet who could ever figure anything out for them. For him. Like I was the only one who could ever do anything. Or fix anything. Or just... be there for any of them!”

  She paused, and he could tell she was trying not to sob. “But not that weekend,” she said as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “No. That weekend I was going to be too smart for him. I’d decided I wasn’t going to play his stupid little game, anymore. I was gonna make him stand on his own two feet, and act like an adult for a change.”

  She shook her head. “I just wanted a little time for myself, you know? Just a little bit of breathing room. A little space. Just... just the chance to remember what it felt like to be a woman again. Not always somebody’s parent. Not always at someone’s beck and call. I just... oh, God, it sounds so selfish now! But I just didn’t want to be bothered. That’s the truth of it, Ryan. I didn’t want to be bothered. Not by any of them. For that one weekend I wanted to be free. Just a few days, that’s all. Just for one, lousy, stupid little weekend I wanted to be... to be... Oh, my God!”

  He tightened his arms around her as he felt her give way; supporting her as she clung to him, all her anger dissolving into grief.

  “Oh, my God, Ryan! It was a weekend, that’s all! Just two little days! It wasn’t supposed to be forever. I never thought I could lose them. I didn’t know! Oh, God, I didn’t know they’d be dead!”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again. Because it was true. And because he could think of nothing else to say. Could think of nothing at all that would ease her pain. “I’m sorry, Siobhan. I am so, so sorry.”

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  * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * * *

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Siobhan sighed, when the storm had finally passed and she could think again. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry.”

  Ryan’s arms felt treacherously warm and secure around her. She tried to pull herself away from them, but he wouldn’t let go and she was too exhausted to fight him. She sank back against his chest after hardly any struggle. Lulled by the strong, steady beat of his heart she found herself closing her eyes again. “Really. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “It’s okay,” he crooned as he stroked her hair. “Don’t apologize, Siobhan. You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.”

  Oh, that was perfect. A tiny bubble of hysterical mirth erupted inside her. Coming from him? That had to be the funniest damn thing she’d heard in at least a month.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky with laughter. “I’ll try to remember that.” She nestled closer, for one last, delicious moment and then said the words she knew she had to say. The words that would end things between them. “But at least maybe now you can understand why I can’t get involved with you?”

  “What?” He pulled back and frowned at her. “Now what are you talking about?”

  She tried again. “Look, after I lost my daughters I—”

  “Oh, Jesus.” He scowled harder. “Look, Siobhan, you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to them. I know you’re hurting, but... well, it’s been ten years! And even if you deserved it – which you don’t – don’t you think you’ve beaten yourself up enough about that by now?”

  She stared at him. “Ten years? What the hell does that mean? Ten years, twenty years, a thousand – what’s the difference, Ryan? They’re still dead, aren’t they? Nothing can ever change that.”

  His frown disappeared and a crooked smile twisted his lips for just an instant. “Well, yeah, But you know, in a thousand years, they’d be dead anyway, wouldn't they?”

  “Ryan, I—”

  “Listen to me,” he ordered, not smiling now, but not frowning, either. His expression was troubled and intense. “I hate like hell that this happened to you, and you’re right, there’s nothing that you, or I, or anyone else can do to change it. But it’s your daughters who are dead, Siobhan. Not you. Hell, sweetheart, you’re more alive than anyone I’ve ever met. And sure, they didn’t deserve to die, but neither do you. I care too much about you to let you keep trying to punish yourself for it. You deserve the chance to be happy. We both do. And I think, if we give ourselves the chance, we could maybe make each other happy. For a little while, anyway.”

  “Oh, Ryan.” She shook her head, sadly. He didn’t understand, and she didn’t know how to make him understand. Not without telling him everything, and running the risk of losing even his friendship, as she had with Bob. What would it hurt to pretend? The little voice from last night was back; urging her to give in, to take a chance, to make believe for just a little longer that she was once again capable of maintaining the kind of relationship she craved. The kind of relationship he seemed to be offering her. “This is such a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he said, as she collapsed once more against his chest. “It wouldn’t be the first of those I’ve had.” He fell silent for a moment, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair as if his thoughts had wandered far away. “So, you want to come out and have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “Dinner?” She turned her head to look up at him.

  He smiled at her surprise. “Yeah, you know. You and me? Some food. Maybe a couple glasses of wine. Dinner. Something like last night, only a little more private. I’m thinking maybe Beach Hoppers, or the Temple Garden.”

  “Sure, I guess... if you want to.”

  “Oh, hey, try to restrain the enthusiasm, huh?” He eased her away from him. “Okay. Well, now, if that’s settled... look, I... I won’t be in tomorrow; I’ve got therapy again. But I’ll come by and pick you up after work, okay?”

  He looked around the room, his expression a little fretful all of a sudden. As if he was searching for something,. Or as if he’d all at once remembered somewhere else he had to be. And then, finally noticing the dog at his feet, he reached down to pick up her leash.

  Siobhan frowned. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, well...” He looked faintly embarrassed. “We didn’t either of us get much sleep last night, and I just thought it would be better if— look, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You gonna be all right here now?”

  “Yeah,” she said, trying to force her lips into a small smile. “Sure I will.”

  “Good.” He leaned in towards her, his lips just brushing her cheek. “I’ll let myself out. You’ll lock the door though, right?”

  “Yeah,” she repeated again, automatically. “Sure.”

  And then he was gone. She heard his footsteps, a little unsteady, as they echoed in the outer room. Heard the door close behind him. A faint noise at her feet made her look down. Selke whimpered sadly. It was a lonely sound. Something she knew all about. “Oh, shit, Selke,” she said, shaking her head. “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into now?”

  * * * *

  Ryan barely made it out of sight of the cabin before the muscles in his leg seized up, as he knew they were preparing to do. He quickly lowered himself onto one of the benches that lined the path. For a long while he just sat there, staring out at the Bay. Too exhausted to even think about how he was going to make it the
rest of the way home. Almost too tired to care. He’d exerted himself too much last night. And then again today, when she’d cried—

  If he hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have collapsed in a wet heap on the floor. As it was, she’d gone altogether limp in his arms – so overcome with grief she probably hadn’t even realized how completely she was leaning on him. Or how much pressure her weight had put on his leg.

  She needed him. And not in any of the ways he told her she did, either. This was more than that. Way more. Maybe more than he could handle. It had been a long time since anyone had needed him this much. A really long time. He’d almost forgotten how it made him feel. But he was remembering now, all right.

  It made him feel helpless. Helpless, resentful and trapped.

  His mother had needed him like that, after his father had been killed. He remembered again how it had felt to be almost fourteen. To be too tall suddenly, and too clumsy. With a body he could only count on to embarrass him and a voice that wouldn’t quit cracking. Transformed overnight, as well, into the man of the family.

  And then his birthday had come.

  His mother always fixed a special dinner when it was one of their birthdays. For as long as he could remember his birthday meal had been hamburgers and homemade French fries. With chocolate cake for dessert. And, that year in particular – maybe because nothing was familiar any longer, nothing in his life was as it had been – he’d looked forward to that meal all day.

  But then, when they were seated at the table, his mother had brought out pork chops. His father’s meal.

  Confusion, disappointment and pain left him speechless. He stared first at the plate, and then at his sisters. “Don’t say it.” Nancy’s eyes seemed to be pleading. And, “Eat the pork chops, Ryan.” Laurie had mouthed. And he’d known then what it felt like to be needed.

  So he’d eaten pork chops and green beans and applesauce. And two helpings of blueberry pie. And he’d sworn to his mother that it was the best birthday he could ever remember having…