by Alicia Rae
I gestured to the paper in her hand with a tilt of my head. “Where did you get that?”
“I found this note under the wiper blade of my windshield tonight after work.” Raelyn searched my face, trying to get a read on me. “Who is he?”
I exhaled a deep breath, praying for patience. I should have known that Drake would hound Raelyn again now that she’d returned to driving herself to and from work. The unyielding bastard.
I didn’t want to answer her. It would drag me down the slippery, dark slope of my past—the very one I feared would swallow me whole, as it had all those years ago. And responding to this query of hers would only lead to her asking more questions.
“He’s no one.” The sharp tone of my voice was meant to be final. I didn’t want to have this conversation.
Raelyn flinched, and I cursed myself for being so harsh. She turned her head. I intently watched her as she looked at anything but me. Soon, tears began to obstruct her beautiful greens, and it fucking killed me to see them. I hated myself for inflicting her sadness.
“Raelyn,” I sighed, overcome with immense guilt. I shook my head and remorsefully gazed at her. “It’s not something I like to talk about. Please, please, for the love of God, don’t make me. My past has no fucking place in my future.”
Her eyes went wide, appearing as though something had struck her mind. “Do you have a child I don’t know about?”
“No, of course not!” I gaped at her. That wasn’t even fucking close.
“Another brother?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Who is he then?”
“No one.” I gritted my teeth. “Someone from my past. That’s it. End of story.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The clock ticked as she pensively eyed me. Then, without a word, she withdrew her legs from my lap and rose to her feet. The wine glass in her hand was placed on the table before she began to walk toward the staircase, all without acknowledging me.
I stood. My chest rose and fell severely. “Raelyn, don’t walk away from me.”
She whipped around on me with lightning speed and pinned me with a glare. “Don’t. You. Dare,” she cried. “Every single time I tried to spare you of my past or the heartache of knowing about my brain tumor that was trying to stake its claim on my life, you made me talk. Even when I didn’t want to!” She came at me and pointed her finger at my sternum, stabbing me with it. “I didn’t want to tell you I was sick, and you forced answers out of me! I refused brain surgery, and you pushed me to make impossible decisions. You gave me hope to take a leap of faith, and you stood by my side, never once leaving me. I didn’t want to fall in love with you, purely out of fear of losing you, yet you made me accept and voice my feelings!”
I clenched my jaw as she continued, “We-we’ve been through hell and back with my health, yet you can’t seem to confide in me.” She sobbed. “I-I love you with all that I am, every last part of me, and it-it’s still not good e-enough for you!”
Pure frustration fell over her features, and she closed her eyes. I knew it was because her stutter had kicked into full swing. It only happened when she was exhausted or stressed, and I was to blame for both of those states.
Her feelings hit me square in the chest. I’d failed her for more reasons than one.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Raelyn, that’s not true. You’re everything to me,” I stated reverently.
“It is true, and I’ve been too blinded by love to see that you’ll never let me in.” She backed away from me, one step at a time.
Each movement was a knife in the gut.
She inhaled a shaky breath before releasing it. All the while, her tortured greens reflected the heartache crucifying my soul. “Your secrets will be what rips us apart, Damien.” Tears poured down her face as she gravely stared at me. “I-I won’t marry a man who won’t share himself with me.”
Her final admission took that same sharp knife and punctured my heart, leaving my wound to spill blood. For the first time, I stood motionless and watched Raelyn climb the stairs two at a time.
As the seconds ticked by, my feet refused to move. I was too stunned from hearing that name.
Henry Heathman.
It had been so long since I heard that name.
The growing distance between us stifled the air around me.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
fourteen
Raelyn
I made it to the threshold of the bedroom before the tears broke free. I cried endlessly, staring at the bed where I’d shared so many passionate nights with Damien, where I had completely given myself to him. The memories only made the pain of his secrets more unbearable. Plus, I’d begun to mix up my words, losing the clarity in my speech, which only infused my irritation. It was embarrassing.
Unable to stand the profound hurt he was inflicting on my heart, I spun on my heels and padded down the hallway toward the first spare bedroom. I barely made it to the mattress before my legs gave out. I threw my face into the pillow as deep sobs racked through my chest.
I wept for Damien, his horrific past that always created a lasting barrier between us, and the traumatic childhood he must have endured to make him feel this way, and I also bawled for how he kept me at arm’s length day after day.
All I longed for was for him to let me in, as I had done for him. I wanted to understand him on a deeper level and offer him comfort, as he’d done for me countless times. It was what couples in love were supposed to do for one another—be there for each other, no matter what the troubles might be.
I’d nearly drifted off into a restless slumber when strong arms found their way around my body, lifting me. I automatically linked my fingers around his neck to hold on to him.
“I can’t stand the thought of you being upset with me, Raelyn, let alone knowing that I’m the one causing you all of this heartache.” Damien’s voice was low and somber as he strode down the hallway, carrying me. “But there is not a damn thing that will keep me from having you at my side at night. Not even you.” He tenderly kissed my cheek.
I wanted to kick and scream at him in hopes of making him see my point of view, to make him understand what his silence was doing to us. I held back though. I was too emotionally drained and shattered to fight him.
Damien laid me on our bed and entered beside me. It was only a mere second before he drew me close. I felt the rapid beat of his heart pressed along my torso. His labored breathing was the only sound. I stared out the window at the half-moon beaming into the room where I was torn between wanting to stay angry at him for his secrets and feeling guilty for lashing out at him.
“My birth name is Henry Heathman,” Damien finally confessed into the darkness.
My cardiac muscle froze, refusing to beat, at his shocking declaration.
“What?” I blurted, unsure of what else to say.
His admission had blindsided me. This was totally unexpected.
“Annabelle named me Henry Heathman. For some unknown reason, she gave me my biological father’s name even though he was never in the picture.”
Damien sighed heavily as my pulse began to slowly drum again.
“I could never do right by her as a child. I was told that I was uncaring of her feelings. I was selfish for wanting simple things, like a five-dollar shirt from…fuck, anywhere. I’d have been happy with a shirt from a thrift store. But, no, Annabelle would need something more, like a forty-dollar shirt and a matching pair of shoes for the upcoming weekend.”
My eyes blurred with tears as he continued, “Annabelle was always first. I would have been happy to come second or third in her list of priorities, but I wasn’t. It was always about her and what she needed.”
I flipped over, desperate to hold him. I wrapped my arms around him.
He added, “When I was sixteen, I emancipated myself. The next two years of my life were a struggle. Back then, it was easier to work, still being so
young, but it was always a constant fight to support myself. I lived in a hellhole in the worst part of town, and I ate the cheapest foods that would fill my stomach enough to survive. All the while, every time someone called me Henry, I would think of that little boy who was unwanted, who was never good enough. It fucked with my head each and every day. I couldn’t move on from the scars ingrained in my head, so when I finally had the money saved, I legally changed my name to Damien.”
I. Had. No. Words.
I only felt a profound anguish for what he’d endured as a child. Imagining a young Damien as a little boy, denied any love from his own mother, was absolutely crushing. No wonder he’d been so determined to succeed—not to live a lavish lifestyle, but to ward off the fear of having no bare essentials to survive.
Tears streamed down my face, and I swallowed thickly. He’d opened up to me.
I cupped either side of his face and caressed it with loving tenderness. “Thank you,” I whispered, finding my voice. “You’ll never know how much it means to me that you love me enough to let me in, to share yourself with me.”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Raelyn.” His palm came to my lower back, and he pulled me closer. I felt the heat of his mouth cascading over my face. “I’ll never stop loving you, fiercely, not even after my heart stops beating,” he promised. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to shield you from any heartache because seeing tears in your gorgeous greens is more than my soul can bear. And I won’t let anything or anyone come between us. You’re mine. Forever. And, very, very soon, you’ll legally be mine on paper, too.”
My insides melted more and more throughout his speech. But the last sentence really did me in.
“I feel the exact same way.” I nuzzled into him and softly kissed him. Butterflies soared in my belly as I quickly withdrew to look at him. The moon slightly lit his features as it continued its ascent in the sky. “And just how soon are we talking here?” I asked, curious if we were finally going to talk about a date.
The shadow of his face curved into a handsome grin. If I wasn’t lying down, I would have been knocked off my feet from its sheer intensity.
“This month,” he stated, as if it were no big deal, while I just encountered whiplash from our rapid change of topic.
“This month?” I squealed, freaking out. “Are you crazy?” I didn’t wait for him to answer as I tossed out, “You’ve lost your mind!”
“You can pick the weekend.” He shrugged casually. “The sooner, the better.”
“I can’t plan a wedding in a month!”
The man wasn’t getting it. It took months and months to coordinate a memorable day.
“Fine. Since we’re already nine days in, I’ll give you thirty days, total. Not a day longer though, Raelyn. I want you to be Mrs. Heathman on paper, and I wanted it ages ago.”
Shiiit!
“And I want a small, intimate wedding. The less people there, the better. You and me. And a few others. That’s all I need.”
Well, that was one part we agreed on, but still, my sexy CEO was being rather demanding.
“Any other requests?” I smirked at my challenging man.
“Yes,” he answered, nuzzling into me. “I don’t want this to stress you out, but I’m equally determined to make you mine in a timely fashion. I’ll help whenever you need me to. All you have to do is ask, and I’ll be there.” He pushed me onto my back and came up over me as he breathed, “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
Then, all conversation ended when his mouth came crashing down on mine. It was there, in our room, that our passion scorched and sizzled between us, igniting our reverent need for one another, as we made love into the night.
In such a little time, this man had stormed into my life and completely consumed every last part of my heart and soul. I couldn’t wait to walk down that aisle and truly become his, once and for all.
The next day proved to be extremely trying. I was exceptionally forgetful at work. I couldn’t seem to get a grip on remembering even the littlest of things. I lost track of time, misplaced pertinent information at the office, and struggled to communicate clearly. I was constantly mixing up my words, thoughts, and emotions.
As the day ticked by, I only seemed to get worse. I lost three sticky notes from Kate with info of clients who had left me messages, and I didn’t have the slightest clue as to where they’d gone. It was as if the small pieces of paper had grown legs and run off.
To top it off, I was randomly seeing different letters and numbers on my computer screen. A lowercase P was suddenly a B, the letter M magically became an N, and the number 3 somehow became an 8. Either I was going crazy, or I was regressing in my recovery, which didn’t sit well with me—at all. And the terrifying thought of relapsing was stressing me out even more. I was a mess. A jumbled, mixed-up mess.
A knock sounded at my door, and Kate barged in a moment later. “Hey, lady. Bella Abernathy is on line two for you. She said you missed a phone appointment with her twenty minutes ago.”
The memory of my calendar mysteriously appeared in my faulty brain—a whole twenty minutes late.
Great.
I thrust my elbows on my desk, hitting the wood rather hard, and I covered my face with my hands on a troubled groan.
“Hey, you okay?” Kate asked, interrupting the pity party I was attempting to rein in.
My gaze snapped up to hers. “Yes, Kate, I’m fine.” I attempted to give her a reassuring smile. “I’ll take the call from here. Thanks.”
The look on Kate’s face told me she wasn’t buying my feeble attempt to brush her off. She came to me and halted in front of my desk, studying me. “Raelyn, you don’t look so good. What’s wrong, sweets?”
I was stressed to the max with my newfound challenges at simple tasks, especially how they’d constantly alter from day to day when I was exhausted. I liked things to be consistent, predictable, unwavering—the total opposite of the woman I’d become since my surgery. Maybe I wasn’t ready for eight-hour workdays, back-to-back for five days a week straight. The thought didn’t sit well with me, for I’d been a driven workaholic since the day I graduated college.
I couldn’t very well divulge all my inner feelings to Kate without worrying her or wasting precious work time, so instead, I said, “I’m just tired. Thanks for asking though.” I forced my smile to be more convincing.
Kate weakly nodded her head.
I reached for the phone and told her, “I’d better not make Bella wait any longer than I already have. Excuse me, Kate.”
I didn’t wait for her response as I lifted the phone off the receiver and pressed the appropriate line to connect the call.
“Mrs. Abernathy, I sincerely apologize for the delay. How are you?” I asked while rising to retrieve her file from the filing bin.
“That’s all right, Ms. Jennings.” Her happy voice purred through the line. “I’m well, thank you.”
With the appropriate file in hand, I took my seat and pulled out the summary spreadsheet. “That’s wonderful to hear. I have your accounts for this quarter finalized. Everything looks spectacular with your sales steadily increasing seven-point-eight percent over the last four months.”
“I saw that in your email this morning. What delightful news!” she exclaimed in my ear. “Now, can we please email the totals for the last two calendar years as well as this year, up to the previous month, to my loan officer? He only requested the previous full two years, but with our profits increasing substantially these past several months, it couldn’t hurt to pass the extra info along, too, right?”
“I agree that the more account information we give him, the better off it will be. It certainly can’t hurt,” I said, understanding Bella was looking to obtain another loan to open her third bakery.
“Great. Can we send these documents to him today? I can give you his email again if you need it.”
I face-palmed my forehead and resisted the urge to break into tears, knowing I’d lost that note
between yesterday and today. The list of my mess-ups was piling up at an alarming rate. I wanted to crawl into a hole at my disorderliness. It was so unlike the OCD Raelyn I’d once known.
I couldn’t very well tell Bella I’d been careless enough to lose the email address, so I said, “I’ll email him right away for you. And, yes, please provide his address again. I’ll jot down his contact information once more just to be sure I have it handy.”
Bella gave me the loan officer’s name and email again before we ended our call. I immediately fulfilled her request to be certain I wouldn’t space it later.
As I copied her on the email, my eyelids became awfully heavy. I blinked several times as I double-checked the uploaded documents to be sure they were the correct ones, and then I hit Send.
Oh my, I am so, so tired.
My hands overlapped on my desk, and I lowered my head to close my eyes for just a brief minute. I only had about fifteen minutes before my next client’s arrival.
“Raelyn.”
Someone shook me.
I was too tired to respond or peel my eyes open.
“Raelyn.”
Someone shook me again, more forcefully this time. I needed five more minutes of sleep. Just five more minutes.
“Raelyn!” The male voice escalated.
Startled awake, I jumped backward. My head and torso collided with the leather chair behind me. I brushed my hair off my forehead and cheeks, and I came face-to-face with Cale standing before me on the opposite side of my desk.
Profound concern was etched across his features. He pinched his brows together until they nearly touched. “Raelyn, I’m worried about you. I think you’re overdoing it.”
“I-I…” I stuttered, beyond humiliated. I let my eyes linger to the artwork to the right of him and then to the window before returning my attention to him. “I’m sorry. I must have dozed off for a minute.”