by Mari Madison
I opened my mouth to speak but she raised a hand to stop me. “I know you don’t want to go on medication,” she said. “And that’s fine. That’s your choice. But there are other resources out there—other professionals who will help you with other kinds of therapy. Cognitive therapies, exposure therapies. Sometimes just talking through what happened can make these symptoms lessen. I’m not saying you’re going to be instantly cured. But you can start wrestling back control of your life.” She gazed at me with her huge, beautiful blue eyes. “That’s all I want for you, Troy. For you to find peace again. Maybe even happiness. Is that so wrong to want?”
I felt the tears prick at my eyes and angrily tried to swipe them away. “I don’t deserve you,” I whispered. “After what I did to you . . . Why are you still even here? I ruined your life. I ran away. You shouldn’t be here now, trying to save me.”
“Oh, Troy . . .” I heard the pain in her voice. “Don’t you get it? I still care about you. And yes, maybe that makes me an idiot, but I’m okay with that. What happened back then, it wasn’t good. And yes, it broke my heart. But it didn’t break me. I’m still here. I survived. And you will, too. If you just give yourself half a chance.”
I rolled over, peering down at her, at her beautiful face. At her deep, soulful blue eyes—eyes I could stare into forever. I drew in a breath, knowing suddenly what I had to do. What I had to say. What I should have said long ago.
“How can I move on?” I asked quietly. “Knowing you will never forgive me? That you won’t even listen to me when I try to bring up the past? You talk about therapy, talking things through. Yet you refuse to talk about what happened with us.” I swallowed hard. “If I’m really going to be able to work through this, I have to start at the beginning. I have to make things right with you.”
I paused and I could see her shoulders stiffen, as I could have predicted they would. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to deal with it anymore. She would rather push it all under a rug—try to forget it ever happened in the first place. Just like she’d probably been doing for the last five years. Like I had been doing, too. But I couldn’t keep pretending. I couldn’t keep staring at the elephant that followed us around to every room. If I had any chance of reclaiming my life, it had to start with her. With us.
“Talk to me, Sarah,” I begged. “Tell me how angry you were with me. Tell me how betrayed you felt. I can take it—really.”
She stood up abruptly, walking out onto the balcony, once again staring out at the sea. For a moment I thought she was going to refuse me altogether. And I wondered what I’d do if she did. But then she turned, stepped back into the room. Her face was a mess of mixed emotions. Her eyes were rimmed with tears.
“I loved you,” she said. “I trusted you. I gave you my heart.”
I forced a nod. “I know.”
She paused, something flashing across her face. Something . . . angry. “No,” she said, waving a frustrated hand across her body. “That’s not exactly it. I mean, that’s part of it, of course, But there was so much more as well. Because it wasn’t just our relationship that you stole from me. It was my whole life. And I know that sounds completely overdramatic, but in a way it’s true.” She raked a hand through her hair. “When I was with you, when we were protesting—it was the first time in my life I’d ever felt like more than just my father’s daughter. This precious princess, heir to the throne.” She scowled. “I always wanted to be more than that. And with you, I felt, for the first time, that I was.” Her voice cracked. “And then . . . to find out it was just a lie all along?”
“It wasn’t a lie!” I corrected fiercely. “You were that person. You worked tirelessly on that campaign. You protested. You went undercover. You were willing to risk your safety and your family’s future—all to save those animals.”
“But for what?” she demanded, giving me a look that pretty much killed me. “It was for nothing! No one gave a shit about those animals in the end. Ryan was just out to rob my dad blind. And you—you simply parlayed it all into your own personal dream job. You both used me. And then you left me behind. And none of us ever helped save any freaking whales.”
I drew in a breath. “I know. And you’re right. I should have never left. I should have stayed by your side. But I was scared. Your dad told me if I didn’t take this job and leave the country I would go to prison like Ryan. I was a dumb kid and I was petrified and I reacted before thinking things through.” I shook my head. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted to leave you.”
“Then why did you? Why didn’t you agree to run away with me when I asked?” She bit her lower lip. “Oh, right. I remember,” she added, her voice thick with sarcasm. “You told me you didn’t want to live a small life. Or, in other words, I wasn’t enough for you.”
I hung my head. I wanted to deny it. To tell her she’d misunderstood. But I respected her too much to do that. She deserved to know the whole truth—no matter how painful it might be.
“I did say that,” I agreed. “And I was fool enough to believe it at the time. But, Sarah, I was wrong. I realize that now. I was so wrong. A life with you would have been huge and wonderful and as important as anything else in the world.”
A sob escaped her throat. But she turned her face away.
“There’s something you don’t know,” I added. “Something I’ve been wanting to tell you since that day.”
She was silent for a moment. Then, “What?”
I drew in a breath. Here went nothing. The secret I’d been keeping for five long years, out at last. “The first day of the trial,” I said slowly, “I saw you standing in the courtroom. And suddenly I changed my mind. I realized how much I wanted to be with you. How awful life would be without you at my side. I ran out of that courtroom and found the first jeweler I could find. I bought you a ring. A diamond ring.” My voice broke. “I was going to propose to you. I was going to agree to run away.”
She turned to me, her eyes welling with tears. “But you didn’t,” she said, her voice filled with accusation, mixed with grief. “Why didn’t you?”
“Your father wouldn’t let me see you that night. I tried and begged but he wouldn’t allow you to come to the door. The next day I went to court again, determined to talk to you on the way out. But that was the day you learned the truth—through Ryan’s testimony. That he had orchestrated our relationship from the start. After that, you refused to talk to me. Never mind run away with me.”
She swallowed hard. “Do you blame me?” she demanded. “I mean, what was I supposed to think?”
I shook my head. “I don’t blame you one bit. I was wrong. I had made a terrible mistake. But at the same time, you never let me give you my side of the story.”
She looked at me warily now. As if I were some wild dog she wasn’t sure was about to bite. “What side? Are you trying to say Ryan was lying?”
“No. Ryan was telling the truth. He did ask me to date you. And he pressured me into getting you to flirt with that IT guy to get access to your father’s network passwords. All of that was his idea. And I went along with it, like an idiot.” I shrugged. “It was wrong. It was stupid and shortsighted. And you have every reason to hate me for what I did.” I straightened up, meeting her eyes with my own. “But for you to say our entire relationship was a lie? That’s just bullshit.”
She opened her mouth, but I waved her off. I needed to finish this, once and for all. Lay all the cards out on the table.
“I loved you. I loved you from that very first day when you were selling those disgusting, undercooked cookies out on the campus lawn. I suggested you sell them at the Environmental Club meeting because I was too chicken to ask you out on the spot. So, yeah, when Ryan suggested I hook up with you? I was all in. Absolutely. One hundred percent. To me it was like being granted the winning numbers of the lottery.
“What happened between you and me? That was real. That was true. Ryan wa
sn’t in the bedroom with us. He didn’t tag along on those long walks on the beach. I didn’t report back to him our conversations or share with him what I hoped would be our future. And in the process, I fell in love with you. Not what you could do for the cause, but you. You were so much fun. So passionate. So beautiful. So perfect for me. My girlfriend in every sense of the word. And the stupid way we’d first gotten together? That didn’t matter a bit.”
“Oh, Troy . . .”
“I would have run away with you. I would have married you. I would have had babies with you. And it wouldn’t have been a small life. It would have been the biggest, most wonderful life I could ever imagine. And I’m so fucking sorry it didn’t turn out like that in the end. I wish there was a way I could make it happen now. That I could melt your heart and force you to see how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”
I groaned. “I’m not going to lie. I’m an absolute mess. My life is in shambles. Half the people in this country think it would be better if I’d had my head chopped from my shoulders. I’m damaged goods, baby. The last thing you probably need is to be with a guy like me,” I said. “And I know that. And I can accept that. But I can’t accept you thinking that I don’t love you. That I don’t wish to God every single day of my life that things had turned out differently.”
I stopped, suddenly feeling completely spent. Unable to say another word. Let her digest what I’d told her—let her come to her own conclusions. No matter what she decided in the end, at least I had been able to say my piece. To get it all out at last.
I felt her looking at me, but I couldn’t raise my eyes to meet her own, too frightened of what I might find in their depths. If I caught even a hint of disappointment, I think it would have done me in.
But then she stepped forward. Taking my chin in her hands. Tilting it up and forcing my eyes to gaze upon her face. And what I saw there? It wasn’t disappointment. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t an accusing glare. There was sadness, yes. But there was also something deeper. Something tender. Something that looked a lot like love.
“Oh, Troy,’ she said, shaking her head. “Do you really think I could have ever stopped loving you?”
And then, before I could reply, she kissed me, to make the words true.
thirty-two
SARAH
Our lips came together. Hungry, eager, but also soft and sweet. Surprisingly gentle for all the heat that had built up between us. I pressed further into him, playfully nipping at his lower lip, unabashed joy washing over me as his words echoed in my ears.
He loved me. He’d always loved me. He’d wanted to marry me—he’d even bought a ring. Yes, he’d made mistakes, but I had made mistakes, too. He’d acted terribly, but he’d also been wonderful. He’d brought light to my life. He’d given a sad little rich girl a reason to live. And now, all he was asking for was a second chance. A chance for him to prove this wasn’t about Ryan. But about him and me—about us.
His mouth parted, a guttural growl escaping as his warm, velvet tongue slipped into my mouth. I gasped as his hands skimmed my sides, lifting my skirt to trace my hipbones, then dragging his fingers across my belly, dipping low, my stomach pooling with heat.
His hands rose to my breasts, cupping them softly as he continued to kiss me with growing passion. As his fingers found the tips, he squeezed them gently, sending a jolt of electricity straight through me, igniting my senses. I let out a small, eager cry, feeling the tears well in my eyes as my body blossomed back to life under his hands.
Yes, we’d already had sex. But, I realized, it’d been forever since we’d made love. And as he lay me down on the bed, floodgates of emotion broke inside of me all at once, memories surging unchecked with every kiss, with every caress. At that very moment, I would have given anything in the world just to remain in this room forever with Troy. Living that simple life we never got a chance to live.
“Sarah. My sweet Sarah,’” he murmured as he crawled on top of me, his body heavy over my own. His hand dropped down between my legs, stroking me gently, while his mouth trailed a searing path from my lips to my breast. I gasped, sensations rocketing through me now as his lips closed over the nipple under my bra, the sweet pressure of his hand caressing me below stoking an ever-building fire. God, he was going to make me come before he’d even taken off my clothes.
But no. Instead, he pulled his hand away, naughty boy, shooting me a mischievous smile as he raised himself up on the bed to pull off his shirt. My eyes went immediately to the blackened brand on his arm and I found myself reaching for it, wanting to touch it. To absorb the pain he must have gone through. Pain no one in the world should have to suffer.
He grabbed my hand before I could reach him, jerking it over my head. Clearly he wasn’t ready to go there, and the thought sent an ache straight through me. He was still holding back. Still keeping that part of his life under lock and key. It made me so sad. But I told myself that at least this was a start—he had opened up to me about the past. The rest could come later. We had a lifetime, after all.
I scooted up on the bed, reaching down to pull up my own shirt over my head, then unclasped my bra. He watched me as if mesmerized by my actions, a clear hunger flashing in his eyes. Then, as if he could bear to wait no longer, his hands came forward, cupping my breasts again, running his calloused thumbs over the sensitive tips as his mouth met mine in a feverish kiss.
And so we kissed. And we touched. But we didn’t rush this time. I didn’t demand he go hard or fast. This time, I wanted it to be sweet, I wanted him to take his time—even if that was painful in and of itself, in a different way. After all, we had the room to ourselves. No one knew we were even here. For all purposes, at this moment, we were the only people on earth. Living the simplest life of all.
Not to mention the most blissful.
thirty-three
TROY
We made love three times. And each time was better, sweeter, more wonderful than the one before. The last time we were both so exhausted we took it slow. Deliciously, lazily slow. We’d barely finished when we fell asleep, locked into each other’s arms. I had never felt more comfortable in my life than lying there, my limbs entangled with hers. It felt like a dream and I never wanted to wake up.
But we did wake up eventually. And when we did, I caught the wariness back in her eyes. Even after all we’d said. After all we’d done. She still couldn’t trust this. She couldn’t completely trust me. And I got that, I really did. But I couldn’t accept it. Not anymore. I had to do better. I had to prove myself to her, once and for all.
And so I took her into my arms again, kissing her softly, my hands caressing her lower back. How could I convince her I was here for her? How could I make her see that I would do anything to prove my devotion?
Then realization hit me over the head. A light bulb that felt more like lightning in its intensity. How had I not realized this before?
Sarah had never asked me for anything.
Except one thing.
One thing that was more for me than it was for her.
I could give that to her. I could make that promise I’d refused to make.
I sat in bed, clearing my throat. Trying to push down the sudden nervousness that rose to my chest. I could feel her watching me, curious, a little worried.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, tracing a finger along the inside of my thigh. I swallowed heavily; it would be so easy for me to grab her and start everything up all over again. Hell, I could already feel my body responding to her touch, as if she was pressing an ignition button.
But no. That was playing the short game. And I didn’t want to do that anymore. If this was truly going to work between us, it had to go further than physical desire. I had to give her my heart as well as my body.
So I lay a hand over hers, my fingers closing around her palm. I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed it thoroughly, before setti
ng it down on the pillow, a safe distance from my thigh.
Her mouth quirked. “Had enough of me already?” she teased.
“God no. I will never get my fill of you,” I said with a laugh. “But I wanted to talk about something. Without being distracted.”
She gave me a puzzled look but sat up in bed, pulling the blanket up to cover her breasts. Which was probably for the best, though I found myself missing them the second they went back under wraps.
I drew in a breath. Here went nothing.
“I love you,” I said simply. “And I know you love me. But this time—I know I need to be worthy of that love.”
She opened her mouth to interject—but I held up a hand to stop her. I had to get this out before I lost my nerve.
“You asked me to get professional help. And I’m ready to do that now. For you, I will do that. I don’t promise I’ll get medication, necessarily, though I’ll hear what they have to say. But I’ll talk to someone, no matter what. That, I can definitely do.” I paused, searching her eyes with my own. “I would do anything for you.”
To my surprise, her mouth dipped to a frown. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to do it for me. Don’t you see? I want you to do it for yourself.”
“Sure. I mean, obviously I’d do it for me, too,” I said quickly, hating that all-too-familiar annoyance rising up inside of me again. Why couldn’t she just accept this for what it was—the ends justifying the means—instead of questioning my intent? I sighed. “I was trying to make a gesture here, Sarah. To show you how much you mean to me. I want to become a man who’s worthy of your affection. And that requires me getting help to become that man again.”