As far as being disinherited…money has never been a concern. Even while working, earning a paycheck and buying my own food these last couple months, the fact that I could return to my own life and be comfortable again was always in the back of my mind. I was never truly broke. It was all an illusion. But this is real. This possibility of going from wealthy to a pauper in the space of one day is terrifying.
“You’ve been molded from childhood to settle into a comfortable life, Naomi. Working for a paycheck is not in your DNA. How long do you think you’d be able to keep this up? You want to be a pageant coach? Do it in Charleston from the comfort of our home. Or your husband’s home. It’s a hobby, not a business. Not for you. You have no business experience.”
How many blows can I sustain before falling over? I’ve been a good daughter. I’ve always done what is asked of me. Expected of me. I’ve treated my father with respect, but right now all of it seems like a waste. He thought so little of me all along. What was the point?
He sighs, his demeanor growing weary. “I give you credit for lasting this long. I do.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “But were you ever truly out on your own? Or did you just find someone else to take care of you?”
There it is. The knockout punch. I sway on my feet, feeling strangled. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I stood on my own since arriving in St. Augustine. I found a place to live, a job. I paid my way. The relationship I developed with Jason was on my terms. My father is wrong. I am not being cared for by a man, no matter how much that man insists on being my protector. Right now, however, in the face of my father’s verbal assaults, my self-confidence is teetering. Everything I’ve accomplished seems silly. So I learned to cook for myself. So what? So I taught a girl how to walk a stage. So what, Naomi?
“You’re beginning to see sense.” My father nods, sliding his car keys from his pocket with a jingle. “I’ll let your mother know to expect you home by tomorrow. We’ll have your room aired. Once you’ve gotten some sleep, we’ll sit down and sort through this mess.”
“I have a commitment tomorrow,” I manage, my blood icy as I realize my words constitute an agreement to my father’s orders. Yes, I was planning on going back to Charleston anyway, but that was my decision. Now it’s his. “Birdie’s pageant. I won’t miss it.”
He stops at the door, jostling his keys in his palm a couple times. “Then you better drive fast if you want to make it home by midnight.”
There’s no telling how long I stand there once the door closes. Hours? No, minutes. I hear the purr of my father’s Mercedes leave the curb and a breath wrenches up my throat, followed by a sob. I cast a look around the chalet, the neatness I took such pride in before mocking me now.
He’s right, isn’t he? Everything my father said was right. I got lucky with this arrangement. Jason and Birdie were godsends for a helpless woman. If I hadn’t fallen blindly into this perfect situation, I would have gone back home the day after I fled from the wedding. I have no skills to take care of myself or make a sustainable income. I’m useless. Jason knew it, too, didn’t he? That’s why he retrieved me from the ramshackle motel and brought me here. That’s why he’s never charged me rent. Pity. It was pity.
I’m pitiful. All this time, I thought I’d come to Florida to have an adventure and figure out who I am down deep at my core. Well I found out, didn’t I? I’m an embarrassment to my family and myself. Jason takes pride in fighting for his country. My parents take pride in building charities and being pillars of their community. What do I take pride in? Flowers in the center of my table. Going scuba diving once. Not an adventure. Not important.
I stumble toward the bed, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I fall onto my knees and drag the suitcase from beneath the frame, walking on my knees to the small dresser. Packing my clothes in heaping handfuls of colors. Clothes tastefully picked out for the perfect spring honeymoon. Such attention paid to every pleat, every stitch pattern. Stupid. So stupid.
When the dresser is empty, I march to the closet and throw it open, yanking my wedding dress off the pole by its hanger. The beading looks like alien crop circles. How did I never notice that? I run my finger over the circular patterns and dig deep. I dig deep for the extraordinary confidence I felt this morning. This self-doubt burns. I don’t want it…but it won’t go away. I’ve been ripped to shreds.
The door to my apartment opens and there stands Jason, his gaze going from curious to turbulent when he sees me holding the wedding dress, caressing it with my fingertips. I love him. So much that my heart starts beating at a different tempo, my arms dying to close around him, face wanting to bury itself in his neck to inhale, rub, revel. Mine.
That instinct is what traps me in a bubble of resentment. But were you ever truly out on your own? Or did you just find someone else to take care of you?
Heat smarts my cheeks, the dress turning abrasive in my hands.
Powerless, I can do nothing but try and take some of my pride.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
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Username: LittleMissMorbid
Not to be weird or anything, guys, but…have they pulled her dental records yet? Just to save time?
Jason
Amazing as it seems, I’d forgotten about the wedding dress hanging in her closet. I’m not sure how, since it represents something wholly unacceptable to me. Naomi married to another man. If she’d gone down the aisle in the thing and recited her vows, I never would have met her. We never would have crossed paths. Or if we had, she would have been off limits to me. I hate that fucking dress with every fiber of my being and she’s handling it like a newborn baby. Hell, she seems irritated that I interrupted. I’m on shaky ground already after having her father dismiss me with a rich guy sniff and not being privy to their conversation—an important one, I’m sure of it. So her snapping eyes hit my chest like shock paddles. She needs something from me, I just don’t know what it is yet. Only that I need to provide it.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
That single, defiant word catapults a boulder into the center of my chest. Her plan was to leave after the pageant. Her packing shouldn’t catch me off-guard like this. But it does. How can she leave when I can’t imagine a day without her? For the first time, I notice the open suitcase on the bed. It’s full of her clothes.
No. Uh-uh. I’m rendered helpless in an instant and I need to shake it. Now. I’m not a man who can exist long in a state of helplessness. Not during battle, not even at the supermarket. But sure as hell not when the woman I love is on the line. “Put down the dress and let’s talk about what happened with your father.”
Her eyes flash. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fine.” My voice is actually hoarse with the need to get that dress out of my sight. Away from her. “Can you please put it somewhere I don’t have to look at it?”
For just a second, Naomi from this morning is back, her expression softening. She turns in a rigid circle, searching for a place to stow the garment, before finally hanging it back in the closet and shutting the door. “I have a lot to do before the pageant tomorrow night. I won’t be able to have dinner or…I’ll be busy right up until the competition, actually.” She’s still not facing me. “Just leave me to it, Jason.”
Could she really go that long without me so easily? I couldn’t. Having her send me away when I’m prepared to lay my fucking heart on the line is unacceptable. “Leave you to what? Your stuff is already in the suitcase. Unless you’re planning on packing the appliances, you’re done. Come down to the house with me.”
Naomi whirls, hands fisted at her sides. “What part about don’t tell me what to do didn’t you understand?”
I massage my brain through my skull. Calm. Keep calm. It must have been a hell of a fight between Naomi and her father. I’m coming in blind and I need to be patient. “I’m sorry. I just want to help.”
“Yes, I know. Poor little Naomi is always in need of help, i
sn’t she?” She cuts through the apartment, collecting knick-knacks as she goes and stuffing them into her suitcase. “Jason, let me ask you a question. Do you really think I could start my own pageant coaching business, or did you just say that because you wouldn’t be around when I found out you’d lied?”
Thrown for a loop, it takes me a second to catch up, but that negative, helpless part of me rebels hardest at being called a liar by the woman I’m crazy about. “Christ. What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you, Naomi.” I can’t have this conversation with furniture between us, so I advance closer, my neck tightening when she backs toward the windows. “What the hell did your father say to you?”
“Nothing that probably…nothing that isn’t true.” She stares into space for a moment, breaking the spell with a jerky shrug. “He has the family’s best interest at heart. Unlike me. I’ve been down here having a complete break from reality. I’m not the only person affected by my bad decisions—”
“Am I a bad decision?”
Her mouth snaps shut, her eyes regretful. But she doesn’t make a denial and a fire spreads in my sternum, ripping through my city and burning down skyscrapers. “Do you think if I’d landed on someone else’s doorstep that I could have lasted this long on my own?” Naomi asks instead, her vulnerability plain.
The answer is right there on the tip of my tongue. A vision of her smearing motor oil across the front of her white dress drifts through my mind. It’s replaced by her determined marches past the kitchen window, groceries in hand. The way she saved the day when Birdie invited friends over for the first time. How she made it easier to go into a crowded restaurant because I witnessed her bravery first. Yes, of course, you could have made it on your own. You’re amazing. You’re dynamic. You adapt in a heartbeat and you refused to let me in until you’d settled into yourself. We both watched it happen.
But I hesitate. I hesitate because I desperately need acknowledgment that I’m important to her. I’ve never been a needy person, but goddammit I’m needy in the face of her packing up and getting ready to leave me. Implying I’m a bad decision. If she can just give me a glimmer of hope that I was good for her, I’ll have the courage to ask her to stay.
“Having me around to protect you wasn’t the worst thing. Was it?”
“No.” I can hear her swallow. “Thank you for being tactful, at least.”
It’s clear that I’ve fucked up. She doesn’t look pissed off anymore, just defeated. Her shoulders sag because of what I said. And God, that spirals me into a panic. I’m losing her. Did I ever have her? “It wasn’t a bad thing to have me around, but you would have found a way to last, baby. I’m positive of that.”
Too late. My confidence in her came too late. It’s diluted by my hesitation. She’s not listening. “Thanks,” she bites out. “I really need to get back to what I was doing.”
“So this is it, huh?” My tone is raw, just like my insides. She’s dismissing me. Ending this prematurely without any deliberation. “We’re done. A day ahead of schedule, even. Efficient.”
She squeezes her eyes closed. “We both knew this was temporary.”
That might be true, but my heart never believed that bullshit. She was my woman from the moment I saw her. Mine. How could she have made the same love in the same bed and still classify this as temporary? Casual. Panic and anger clog my windpipe, making it difficult to hide how desperate I’m feeling. She’s leaving. If I ask her to stay, she’ll say no. What do I have to work with? What do I have? “Wow. After everything, Naomi. After this whole adventure-seeking mission and all your attempts to be a big girl, you’re ready to pack up and run back to daddy at the drop of a hat, aren’t you?”
I’ve never known regret like the kind I feel as soon as those words leave my mouth. She gulps a breath, her arms wrapping around her in a protective hug. Guarding her against me. Oh my God. I hate myself in this moment.
“I didn’t mean that, baby. I’m just standing here watching you leave and—”
“You did mean it. You both did.”
That revelation that I’ve echoed something her father said is abhorrent. I want to heave. And God help me, in the wake of my defeat, I’m still obsessed with the possibility that she could go back to another man. It’s going to rule my every waking thought when she’s gone. The knowledge that she’s going to be in the same town as Elijah is a manacle around my neck and I just need…I either need to tighten that manacle until it strangles me. Or I need it loosened.
“Did you keep that dress because you think you might wear it again?”
Again, her silence is as good as a yes.
“Will you go to see him?” I rasp.
We stare at each other across the expanse of the room for long moments, but I can read nothing in her expression. She’s totally closed off to me, except for maybe her fingers twisting in her skirt. “Don’t ask me that,” she finally whispers.
That’s as good as a yes, isn’t it? Rage and misery claw my stomach, leaving nail marks. If she wasn’t standing inside this structure right now, I think I could tear it down with my bare hands. But her safety and happiness are still the most important thing in my world. Tell her you love her. In the movies, that sentiment solves everything, but I can see it won’t make a difference right now. It won’t even make a dent. Love can’t change the fact that our lives are taking different paths and she’s not interested in finding a way for them to intersect. Hell, maybe it’s impossible, anyway. Maybe it always was.
With my head on fire, I leave her standing there, the truest three words I’ve ever left unspoken fighting to leave my mouth.
*
I wake from a nightmare dripping in sweat, my fingers tearing at the sheets. My usual routine of reminding myself I’m in my room in Florida is useless, though, because it’s not the recurring dream. Being underwater with no oxygen, blasts going off overhead.
No. It’s the shark. My worst nightmare is now Naomi in the path of the shark.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed, doubling over into a coughing fit. One second she was there, the next she was gone. Not so different from reality, is it? She’s as good as vanished. Lost to me. Going somewhere I can’t protect her. Love her.
Frustration sends me lunging to my feet, stripping off my soaked boxers and sweatpants, leaving them draped over my open windowsill to dry. Have to run. Energy crackles in my veins, turning me jumpy. I drag on a new pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. With moisture still forming on my forehead even in the air-conditioned room, I shove my feet into sneakers and leave the house, unable to resist a look up at Naomi’s dark window. How dare she sleep while I dream of her being devoured right in front of my eyes? At the same time, I savor this last night of knowing she’s safe in bed, close by.
My feet eat up the pavement, carrying me farther and faster than ever before. I don’t even recognize the neighborhood I’ve ended up in when I force myself to turn around and go back. Not a single car passes me as I sprint home, already knowing the run isn’t going to be enough to stop the thoughts of another man’s hands on my woman’s skin. Thoughts of waking up every morning for the rest of my life and knowing she’s out of my reach. That she always will be.
By the time I skid to a stop in the driveway, I’m a snarling beast. My shoulders are bunched up at my ears, hands in fists. No way I can get through the day like this. I can’t even make it through the next hour. I’m preparing to leave the driveway and go for another run—farther this time—when the door opens at the top of the stairs. Naomi’s door. She steps out into the night, her white nightshirt a beacon in the darkness.
Hunger takes flight inside me. Maybe it was there from the moment I woke up and I disguised it as something else. My need for this woman is monstrous on a regular basis. Throw in the fact that this is the final night she’ll be near to me? I need to be inside Naomi so bad, my cock is already turning thick and ready in my pants, sweat molding the material to my growing flesh. And when Naomi starts to desce
nd the stairs in a hurry, her blonde hair flying out behind her, a growl of relief and stupefying desire leaves me.
Proof she needs me, too. I want to drown in it.
We meet at the bottom of the stairs and I haul her up into my arms, almost falling to my knees at the sublime fit of her. Somehow I remain standing as her legs lock in place around my waist and we fall headlong into a kiss. It’s noisy and wet and we’re both breathing heavily—it’s heaven. It’s heaven. I delve one hand into the back of her panties to get a good handful of her ass, my other hand tangling in her unbrushed hair, tilting it left and right as I demolish her mouth. The sounds I’m making into her mouth barely sound human, but I don’t care. I care about nothing but getting as close to Naomi as possible and to that end, I stumble in the inky blackness of the night, searching for a place to get inside of my woman.
She gasps up at the sky a second later as I throw her up against the side of the house, my mouth finding her neck and licking straight up the smooth column of it. Her pussy clenches where it presses to my erection. I can feel her response right through the wet material of my sweatpants. I’m damp all over from running, I remember vaguely, but she seems disinclined to care, her fingernails already ripping a path down my back. She needs this cock as badly as I need to give it to her. Thank God. There is something here. Maybe it’s only physical for her, but goddammit, I’ll take anything I can get.
“Nightmare?” Naomi breathes as I return to the kiss, twining our tongues together, pressing her chin down with my own so I can get it deep.
“Yes,” I grate, thrusting my hips into the cradle of her thighs, driving her up against the house. “You were there and then gone, baby. The shark took you and I couldn’t stop it. I tried and I couldn’t.” The truth comes out of me in a rush, so fast I’m unable to stem the flow. Maybe it’s the complete darkness, the fact that we can barely see each other’s faces. Or maybe it’s the animalistic nature of what’s happening right now. We’ve fought, she’s broken off what’s between us, but our bodies aren’t done. If it seems like our bodies are communicating something deeper, I have to ignore it now. I can’t take having my hope smothered one more time.
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