Confessions in the Dark

by Jeanette Grey

  He looked...looser somehow. Less weighed down.

  “I...,” he started, before closing his mouth and beginning again. “What happened to Helen. I’ve never talked about it before.”

  Serena’s heart skipped a beat. “Never?”

  “No.”

  He flexed his jaw, and something inside her ached. Approaching slowly, she crossed the space to him. She put her hand over his, stroking the points of his knuckles with her thumb. A little of the strain seemed to seep out of him.

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  “I’m glad you made me.” He flicked his gaze to hers, a softness creeping over his expression. “Serena, I—”

  And she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Whatever he was about to say, the gravity to his tone made the air around them go silent and still. She braced herself.

  “Last night. It was a gift. A treasure.” He intertwined their hands, linking them. Making her hope that maybe the but that was hanging on the air wasn’t about to come down on her head. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Don’t—” Don’t do this. Don’t walk away.

  The piercing darkness of his eyes robbed her of her voice. “But I want to. So badly.”

  Her throat went dry. He didn’t have to deserve her. Love didn’t work like that. She shook her head, only for him to slip his hand from hers and reach up, cupping her jaw to still her.

  “I don’t know what there is left of me to give,” he said. “But I want to give it to you.” He swallowed wetly. “I want to try.”

  It was all she needed to hear. Vision blurring, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hauling him close. The heat of his palm came to settle at the small of her back, and he leaned into her. Burying his face against her neck, he held her close, and it was everything she hadn’t dared to hope for.

  Blinking back the tears that clung from her lashes, she laughed. “I’d like that.”

  She’d love that.

  She’d love him. She’d love him until all the hurting pieces in him healed over, and then she’d just love him some more.

  When he pulled back, she mirrored him, letting enough space between them so he could lean down. The touch of his lips to hers was like the sun rising inside her, and she opened to him, drinking in the light.

  With a rough exhalation, he broke away. It was too intense, the way he gazed into her eyes. The grip of his hand at her side.

  “I want to be so good to you, Serena.”

  Only she heard the doubt inside that affirmation. A shadow of a cloud passed over the sun, and she fought to suppress her shiver at the sudden chill. Dropping her gaze to his mouth, she drew him in for another kiss.

  Doubt was a thing for another time and another day. For now, he wanted to give her everything. He wanted to be good to her, and that was enough. If he couldn’t...

  Well. At least they got to have this. For now.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  How many times had Serena’s mother warned her that she should be careful what kind of face she made, because it just might get stuck that way? Sure, she’d been trying to get Serena to stop sticking her tongue out at the time, but the phrase had taken on a whole new meaning today.

  Serena. Could. Not. Stop. Smiling.

  With the exception of Sunday dinner with the family, she’d spent the entire weekend with Cole. So much of their acquaintance thus far had been fraught with these confessions in the dark, but for that little, beautiful pocket of time, the shadows had receded. Maybe it was simply that they’d traumaed themselves out. Maybe they’d both been ready for some time to just be, watching movies in their pajamas and eating all the amazing things he’d baked in his insomnia.

  Maybe it was all the sex.

  A tickle of heat licked along her spine, and her smile turned positively goofy as she parked in one of the visitor spots at Upton, gathered up her bundle, and got out.

  God, that man. She’d thought their first time had been incredible, and it had been. Filthy and revelatory and delicious, but he’d only just been getting started. If she’d known all the things he could do with his tongue when she’d met him...she still would’ve had to keep her hands to herself until he was ready. But she wasn’t sure how she would have done it.

  Someone else was coming out of the administrative building just as Serena was walking in. She shifted her bag to her other hand and got the door, her grin just about breaking her face. Ugh. This was going to become a problem at some point. Already today she’d let her kids get away with way more than she normally would have, but you try disciplining a misbehaving middle schooler with an idiotic sex grin stamped on your face.

  And seriously, if a room full of preteens couldn’t kill her smile, nothing could. Not even...

  “Mrs. Cunningham.” Serena waved in greeting as she strode into the office, and nope. Not even that sour grinch could get her down today. “How are you?”

  Mrs. Cunningham glowered. “Not as well as you, it would seem.” She glanced over Serena’s shoulder. “Your friend didn’t accompany you today?”

  She was going to have to give Cole a hard time about that later. Apparently, he’d made quite the impression. For now, though, she shook her head as she made her way to the desk. “Just me.”

  “Pity.” Okay, maybe this woman was going to be able to dampen Serena’s mood after all. “It’s a coincidence you should happen to stop by. Mr. Trousseau mentioned that he’d like to have a word with you.”

  Never mind. If anything, Serena’s smile widened. God, her face actually hurt. “He did?”

  “Indeed.” She waved toward the rear of the office. “You can go on through.”

  Serena could have kissed that ugly mug. Somehow, she refrained.

  With a whole new lightness in her step, she headed on back. Just before Grayson’s door, she paused, taking a deep breath before she stepped up and knocked.

  At the first rap of her knuckles, he looked away from his screen. “Serena.”

  Oh, this was fantastic. Maybe he’d pulled Max’s file. Maybe he’d been impressed. “Grayson.”

  “Have a seat.”

  Serena hesitated. This wasn’t quite the same warm man who’d danced with her half the night a couple of days ago. On the surface, nothing had changed. He was as impeccably dressed and as proper, but his expression was cooler.

  “Okay.” A flash of nerves skittered up her arms. She pulled out one of the chairs in front of his desk all the same, refusing to let a little anxiety blow itself out of proportion in her mind. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her Tupperware. “Blueberry scone? Homemade.”

  Not by her, but technically true.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Oh.” Deflating another fraction, she returned the container to its bag and set both on the ground by her feet. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Mrs. Cunningham said you were hoping to speak with me?”

  “Yes. I didn’t expect to see you so soon, though. You’ll excuse me for being unprepared.” The way he said it wasn’t helping her unease.

  “I was just in the neighborhood.”

  “Right.” Grayson straightened in his chair. His gaze was so serious as he turned the full power of it on her. “About that.”

  “Yes?”

  “You and Dr. Stafford made quite the impression the other night, as I’m sure you’re aware. So I asked around a bit about you and your prospective. Max.”

  This was it. “Oh?”

  “He’s a strong candidate, I have to admit. We’ll need to see how his admission scores come in, but based on his other application materials, I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be a good fit here.”

  A bubble of relief popped in Serena’s lungs. “He’s such a great kid, and I think his exams are going to go great. He’s been working so hard. If you knew how important this was to him.”

  “I’m wondering how important this is to you,” he said, and that stopped her short.

  “Excuse me?”


  Something in his expression softened. It was almost too kind.

  Oh damn. This was going to be bad.

  “Serena. Did you know that Mrs. Cunningham has been keeping track of how many times you’ve ‘stopped in’ over the last few months? She’s asked the other office personnel to do so as well.”

  “Oh.” A numbness buzzed in her gut.

  “They appreciate your culinary talents, and the school is grateful for your support at our annual benefit.”

  “Of course.”

  “But.” And there it was. There was always a but. He tilted his head to the side. Oh no. Was that pity in his eyes? “I need to make sure this is absolutely clear. Our decision about your nephew’s admission cannot be contingent on your...generosity.”

  The numbness spread. “Oh.”

  “The treats for the office staff. The visits. The benefit tickets, even. They can’t have any sway.”

  One lone flicker of anger curled through the gray fog settling over her. Generosity? If she’d bought them a new building, this would be a very different conversation, indeed. “I understand.”

  “Then you’ll understand if I insist that you refrain from additional visits in the future.”

  Her stomach sank into her toes. “You’re banning me?”

  “Not at all. In fact...” He reached over to pull a business card from the holder on the corner of his desk. “This is my direct number. If you have any questions about the admissions process or about the status of Max’s application, I invite you to contact me personally.”

  “But you don’t want me to come by anymore.”

  “Not without a reason. Not if your intention is to sway our decision.” He extended his hand with the card a little farther until she moved to take it. He clasped her palm in his. “I’m sorry to put this so bluntly. It’s nothing personal. But we need to remain impartial. Surely you understand.”

  Her throat threatened to close. “Of course.”

  An ugly sort of a laugh clogged her lungs. And here she thought she’d been helping. She’d thought she was doing so well.

  She closed her fingers around the card, pulling her arm back as she rose. As an afterthought, she grabbed the bag of baked goods from the floor. Heaven forbid he thought she had left it on purpose. One last-ditch effort to bribe him into letting her kid in.

  “I’m sorry to have taken up everyone’s time,” she said, hating the edge she couldn’t quite keep out of her tone.

  Grayson stood as she retreated to the door. “It was lovely to have the chance to see you again, Serena.”

  She wished she could say the same. The smile she hadn’t been able to get rid of deserted her entirely now. All the acknowledgment she could manage was a nod and a little wave.

  She was just so embarrassed.

  With her head down and her shoulders tight, she took a back set of hallways out of the building. The last thing she needed right now was Mrs. Cunningham’s gloating.

  She retreated to her car and locked her doors before giving up. She slumped forward until her brow touched the steering wheel. A helpless, useless feeling made her clench her hands hard.

  There was just so little she could do for Max. That kid deserved the world, and he’d gotten the short straw so many times. Between his absentee mom—who Serena still hadn’t heard from since that awful dressing room phone call—and his apparently terrible math teachers and the kids who were giving him such a hard time at his neighborhood school, he was due for something good.

  Serena’d been doing her best to give it to him. But it seemed she couldn’t do anything right for him at all.

  Cole was going to tear his bloody clock off the wall.

  Scowling, he refocused on the columns of figures he’d scribbled out across the page. He was close to something, he was sure. For nearly a year now, he’d been chewing at this theory of his, and he’d had a breakthrough that morning. If he could only concentrate, he might even have something publishable soon. That’d show Barry—it would show everybody at his old university who’d written him off as washed up and done.

  Except, for the umpteenth time, his gaze strayed back to the minute hand as it crept closer and closer to the twelve, and this was ridiculous. Serena wasn’t due back at any particular time. Yet here he was, sitting by the window like a damned spaniel waiting for her to come home, watching the seconds tick by in his overeagerness to see her. It was embarrassing was what it was.

  It took his breath away, it felt so good.

  His routine, the rigid timetable of meals and work and exercise that he’d relied on for all these years—it had gone out the window the moment he’d hurt himself, and then the shattered remains of the fall had been set on fire in Serena’s wake. She’d given him something to care about, injecting life into his days. And into his nights now, too.

  His pulse picked up, and he drummed the end of his pen against his knee at the coiling that seemed to happen in his blood. It was arousal at the thought of her, of how she’d felt rocking over him in the pale, damp light of dawn that morning. The feel of all those curves beneath his hands.

  It was a sense of foreboding so strong he could scarcely breathe.

  The plastic casing of his pen creaked beneath his grip, and he exhaled roughly as he let it go. He knew better than to let his thoughts wander down that road. Even if he was still harboring doubts about what kind of partner he could be for her, he’d been honest, at least. She knew he wasn’t a whole man or a safe man. She wanted him anyway. And that was probably the hardest part of it all to believe.

  Outside, the sound of a car door slamming drew him back to the here and now. His gaze went again, unerringly, to the clock—nearly a quarter to five. Well within the range of when she usually got home on days she didn’t have Max. Twisting around in his seat, he glanced out the window, down at the street below. And there she was.

  He was up and grabbing for his crutch in a heartbeat. It was the height of rudeness not to call or text before heading straight down. She’d just had a long day at work. She might be tired, might want to unwind. Might want a bloody minute to herself before her fucked-up hermit of a lover went stumbling down the stairs, near-mad for her presence and her touch.

  Selfish. But even that rebuke didn’t slow him down.

  The stairs did, though. Gripping the banister with one hand and his crutch with the other, he gritted his teeth. His bad leg had been getting stronger, and even more rapidly in just the couple of days since he’d started adjusting to the single crutch. It still protested taking his whole weight, but he was able to give it more and more every day.

  He stopped short before hopping down the first step. Maybe...

  Recalling how he’d practiced this with his therapist, he tested stepping down with his bad leg leading. Leaning into the railing and his crutch before shifting forward, and...Huh. It barely gave a twinge. He took the next stair a fraction faster, and this was still a snail’s pace to the way he’d used to storm down half a flight at a time on his way to his morning runs, but it was better. He grinned as he turned the corner of the landing.

  The front door to the building creaked as it swung open and closed, and it was followed by the jangling of keys, the snap of a postbox. At the echoing thuds of footfalls on the stairs, Cole quickened his pace. But even with his head start, Serena beat him to her apartment. He rounded the corner to find her searching through her keys. She looked over her shoulder, and his heart sped, all his doubts falling away. Except...

  He frowned, pausing halfway down the final flight. The woman he’d seen off that morning had been giddy, practically glowing from within.

  A cloud formed over his head. “What happened?”

  Sighing, she turned away. She got her door unlocked and stepped on through without a backward glance. For a second he worried she’d close the door behind her, shutting him out. But she didn’t. He descended the last few steps and limped his way into her apartment. Still not speaking, she hung up her keys and dropped the contents of her pockets
into the little ceramic bowl on her entryway table. She set down her schoolbag. And then, right beside it, a paper shopping bag. The same paper shopping bag she’d left with that morning. His furrowed his brows as he peered into it. The container he’d packed at her request was still full.

  He glanced at her in question. “Serena?” His throat bobbed. “Love?”

  All the fight seemed to go out of her at once. Casting her jacket aside, she collapsed into a corner of her couch and draped her arm across her eyes. Her chest heaved with the force of her sigh, and he wasn’t going to be distracted by that. He wasn’t.

  Swallowing back the prickle of heat thrumming under his skin, he closed the door behind himself and crossed the half dozen feet toward her. Tension radiated off of her. Tension and disappointment, and once upon a time, he’d known what to do about that kind of thing. Gingerly, he dropped down to sit beside her, placing a questioning hand on her knee.

  She slid her arm lower, peeking at him through one half-open eye. Blowing out a breath, she covered it again, hiding herself from his vision. “It’s nothing. Just a bad day.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Language.”

  “I call it like I see it.” She hadn’t tried to push him away so far, so he ventured a little farther. With care, he reached out, lifting her hand and pulling it away from her face. “Something happened.” He hated the way his voice wavered. “Tell me about it?”

  He could offer comfort. He scarcely remembered how, but he could try. She deserved that much after all the times she’d offered it to him.

  For a moment that dragged on and on, she stared at him. Then she twisted her hand in his, entwining their fingers and holding on. Closing her eyes, she asked, “Just, have you ever felt really helpless? Like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do what you needed to? For the people you love?”

  His ribs squeezed in, and he tightened his hold on her hand. “You know I have.”

  Opening one eye, she winced. “Oh, crap. Sorry.”

  He pushed away the guilt that had crippled him for so long. This wasn’t about him. “Don’t be. Go on.”