by Riann Colton
He stood behind me, a warm presence at my back. “I told you,” he whispered against my ear, “I would come for you.”
This was overwhelming. Reaching up, I gripped his forearms as I leaned against him, gazing out the windows to his impressive view. “This is for me?”
“Just like the barbecue tonight. I once asked you why you didn’t leave Pierce Point if you’re so unhappy there. Why? Tell me why, Sarah?”
I turned away from the water. He had seen my demons laid out on my studio floor. He had shown me his with that photo. I always knew when something bad was going to show up in a magazine or newspaper, because Hill showed up at my door. Reaching up, I traced his eyebrow. “How would you find me if I wasn’t there?” I met his gaze and took a deep breath. “Would you even try?”
He sighed. “You gotta stop assuming I’m a total asshole, Sarah. It’s hell on our relationship.”
The word made something tighten in my chest as I focused on his chin. “Is that what we have?”
His hands gripped my hips and he lowered his forehead to rest against mine. “Sarah,” he said softly. “You’re about to show the world the shadows in your eyes, ones I helped put there. Stop hiding from me. You know all my shit, more than anyone on this planet. So, why are you always hiding you from me?”
Because he had the power to hurt me in ways no one could. I plucked at the front of his shirt. My father’s fists, the way everyone called me Hill Deveraux’s whore hurt, but not like he could, because I didn’t love them. “Hill,” I whispered as my vision blurred.
“I have no photos of you looking at me, Sarah. Trust me, I’ve looked over the past few months. Not. One. Why?”
A tear slid down my cheek as I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. His camera was magic; it revealed truths. Oh, what he could have done to me if he had seen what the pictures would show him.
“Even now when I took your picture. Now, when I’ve seen what haunts you, what makes you strong. You still fucking hide from me.” He didn’t shout the last words but I knew he wanted to. Hands cupped my face and he tilted my head back.
“I have these dreams where I’m standing in front of that fucking headstone only there’s a date and it’s almost four years old because I was too late. I wake up and I can’t breathe, Sarah. I can’t breathe and you’re not beside me. I fear that maybe it wasn’t a dream, that maybe you’re dead and the actual dream was showing up on your porch. So I have to call my brother every night for reassurance. No matter what damn time it is he tells me you’re okay, you’re not dead, because I fear if I dial your number I’ll get some recording saying this number is no longer in service.”
I caressed his neck as he took a hard, deep breath.
“And I wonder,” he said, his voice hoarse, “that if I had maybe seen even a glimpse of what you hide from me, that maybe you wouldn’t have thought that was your only way out.”
Hill. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed against him, holding him close. Sorry, I’m sorry. It was a startling realization to discover I had the power to hurt him too. When had that happened? “Stop, Hill. Stop,” I whispered as I pressed my face into the curve at his shoulder.
“I can’t do this anymore, Sarah,” he mumbled into my neck. For a minute I thought he meant us and it made me panic. Like the knowledge he had this house to come home to. He eased my head back and took my mouth in a desperate kiss.
I met the greedy thrusts of his tongue with my own, afraid for myself. Since he’d come back two months ago, I had done everything I could to push him away. If I made him leave, he wouldn’t come back again. I couldn’t survive him walking away again.
“Shit. Damn it.” He wrenched his head away and let out a string of creative curses.
“What?”
“According to Jax, this is what we do.” He rubbed his thumbs over my cheeks as he stared down at me. “Our bandage is sex and it’s why we’re a fucked up couple. I see something that rips through the camera to my soul; I make it go away using you. You get hurt; you make it go away using me. And here we are again, avoiding the ouch with me wanting to get you out of your clothes and up into our bed.”
Our bed? We had a bed? “William, look at me.” He exhaled loudly but met my gaze. “I tried to hide my hurts in a bottle. Not you. Never you,” I whispered and shut my eyes briefly to find the strength. I could do this. I could do this. Only this was more terrifying than taking him into my studio because that had been something that had happened to me. This was me. “Why me? Out of all the girls in Pierce Point, you kept coming back to my door. Why?”
He murmured my name. “I already told you that in your bathroom. Weren’t you listening? You know me, Sarah. You know the selfish parts; you know the ugly parts. When Big Jack kicked me out what did I do?”
He had shown up at my door. Dazed. Lost. Angry. I understood what it was like to have a parent hate what you were. My father hated me because in birthing me, my mother had died. It hadn’t been my fault but to Brandon James, she had been taken from him. His pain had morphed into anger then into hate. “But why?”
“You see me, Sarah. Me. Despite all my shit, you see me. I’m not William Hilton Deveraux to you. I’m not the son of Big Jack, even disinherited. I’m not a prize. God knows, I’m not a prize. When we went for pancakes that first morning, it wasn’t me Sally saw. It was an extension of Big Jack. When your sister hit on me, it wasn’t me she saw. It was a fat wallet because of my camera.”
“She hit on you?” My eyes narrowed and Hill smiled.
“It’s Brandi. I have a penis, and I wasn’t broke anymore. Now shut up and stay with me here. My own father couldn’t see me because of his pride. But you do. And because you always saw me, I was able to see me when things became too blurred in my head. You’re my lens, Sarah. A little twist here, a little turn there, and suddenly I could see me again. I suddenly worked again. But through all my needing to see me, I forgot something.”
I stared into those storm cloud eyes as I waited for him to go on. “Maybe I was too selfish, maybe I didn’t even want to see beyond me,” he said as he searched my face, “because there was this girl who was just as lost and blurred as me. More so. I’m bouncing it back to you, Sarah. No more lens caps, no more bullshit. Why do you let me back in after I’m an asshole to you? Why do you hide from me?”
“Because I love you,” I admitted, unable to look away from his gaze this time.
He nodded as he lowered his head and gently kissed me. “Sarah mine,” he whispered against my mouth. “Don’t hide that from me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered back.
“It took a while to figure my shit out, but I did. I always came back to that crappy town because of you. I always came back to you. I will always come back to you. Know that, Sarah. Believe it. Believe me. I’d have come for you had Jax called me, because it’s you. It was always you.”
I nodded as he kissed me again, a slow but greedy kiss that made everything tingle. “We have a bed?”
He smiled and it was all bad boy Hill Deveraux. “Yes. Yes we do.”
“I like my studio.”
“You’re gonna love our bed then.”
I did.
Sarah
“Sarah.”
I opened my eyes at the whisper of my name. There was a soft click then Hill lowered the camera. “Got you,” he said with a wicked grin. He leaned down and kissed me. “Someone’s at the door. Probably Jax come to give me shit for taking you to bed instead of to the barbecue.” He tossed one of his shirts my way. I drew it on and liked wearing something of his. I sniffed it and felt all fluttery on the inside. The grin on his face followed by the wink added to that intoxicating feeling. Holy hell…happiness with Hill Deveraux. Who knew that would happen?
“He does like his lectures.”
“Up and at ‘em, sexy. You have Deverauxs to dine with and we don’t like waiting.” He left me in our bed. Our bed. I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow that smelled of fabric soften
er. New sheets. According to Hill, he hadn’t slept in the bed since he had bought it after he moved in. Too big and empty, he’d said, shadows of his nightmares in his eyes.
I heard Hill talking, a male voice responding, and I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to go to a barbecue. As much as I adored Jax, I didn’t want to go visit with him tonight. I wanted to stay here.
My skin began to feel itchy and the feeling of being watched pricked at me. Turning my head toward the source, I opened my eyes.
My heart stopped.
It stopped in my chest to see large dark eyes looking at me. Hair the same brown as mine was messed up and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. His arms were on the bed, his hands stacked so his little chin rested on top. Automatically I reached down to tug the sheet up even though I was wearing Hill’s shirt. I felt vulnerable all of a sudden in a way I’d never imagined. What should I say? Jesus.
I was going to kill Hill. Kill him. He had no right. No right!
I couldn’t even remember the last time I had seen him. A baby. Small. Crying. Because his mother was a messed up failure. Something hot and painful twisted inside of me as I looked at Billy staring solemnly at me. I had given birth to him. He was beautiful. I had given him up because I hadn’t wanted to ruin his life. Oh God, he was beautiful.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi.” Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The words pounded in my brain and I swallowed over the knot in my throat. He climbed up onto the bed and propped himself up on his elbows, pressing his face close to mine.
“Do you feel better now?”
I nodded.
“Daddy says you were really sick.”
I nodded again. “Yes. But I feel much better.”
He pressed a finger beneath my eye. “My mom,” he whispered as if in awe then leaned forward and kissed where he had touched. “Did you miss me?”
I nodded, unable to talk because I would cry all over this little boy. I cleared my throat and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Every day, Billy. Every day.” My hand was shaking. He lowered his head beside mine then wrapped an arm around my neck, hugging me tight.
It broke me apart. I had hurt him, betrayed him in ways he could never understand. And here he was, hugging me. I hugged him, the small, sturdy weight of a boy who had thrived without me, despite me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I smoothed down the messy hair that was like his father’s. He smelled of grass and sun, with faint traces of barbecue smoke. It made me look at the doorway where Hill leaned against the frame. “Thank you,” I mouthed at him. He had done this. I knew it. This had Hill Deveraux written all over it. Sneaky Deverauxs.
He winked, lifted his camera and took our picture.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book wouldn’t be without some serious back up and support. There’s my awesome beta-readers Sloane Taylor, my good friend Patricia and Steena Holmes, who believes in this story as much as I do. There’s my amazing editing team of (again) Patricia, Bobbi Beatty and Alyssa Palmer. Kat Laurens who generously gave me some real estate in her Safe Haven novella. And those who kept pushing me to hurry up and get this book out: Steena Holmes and Tawny Stokes. Thank you, ladies, for being my bra with this book.
BIO
I’ve lived in Calgary, Alberta, Canada for the majority of my life except for my first 6 months and a three-month stint in Kingston, Ontario that ended with no job and me out of money and returning back to Calgary. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember and probably before then if one includes creative lying in grade 1 when I told a classmate that we were moving to Tokyo and I didn’t even know where that was. (And I got caught when her mom phoned my mom about our future move to Japan. Apparently my story was believable.) Writing is what keeps me sane; though, really, if you ask around – no one will agree to my sanity.
Website
Twitter
Facebook
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Acknowledgments
Bio