by Bella Andre
But this was Evan. And she had no guard against her emotions or his pain.
“He’d always grabbed and yanked and pulled and left bruises. And there was a lot of yelling, him at me, him at her. But when I was six, he just hauled off and backhanded me across the chest. The blow threw me across the room.”
His eyes were bleak now, his voice devoid of emotion. Like an automaton repeating instructions. Her heart bled with the need to touch him. But if she did, neither of them would get through this, and he needed to get it out. She sure as hell didn’t believe he’d ever shared any of this with Whitney. Because if he had, it surely would have changed her sister, made her into a better human being, more understanding. How could it not have?
“I’d stabbed one of his screwdrivers through a chair cushion. I was punching stars into a piece of paper. But it went right through the vinyl.”
“It was just a mistake,” she whispered. “An accident.”
“That didn’t matter. When she ran to me and said it was her fault for letting me play there, he smacked her across the face.”
Paige put her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t help the moan of pain.
“I don’t think I’d ever actually seen him hit her before. I knew he did, because I saw marks, bruises on her. And because I could hear her crying in pain. But he’d never done it in front of me.”
“Evan.” Everything inside her wanted to touch him, wrap him in her arms, give him her warmth. But if she touched him, she knew he would stop talking. Stop unburdening himself the way he needed to exorcise his demons.
“After that, it was like he’d broken through some barrier. We both turned into his punching bags whenever he got drunk or just plain pissed. If his boss yelled at him, or he had a run-in with a traffic cop. Hell, he didn’t even need a reason. But she knew when it was coming, and she’d try to send me to my room. Or outside to play. Anywhere. So that she could take the beating, instead of me.”
Paige thought about the way Theresa had been at the dinner table, keeping her mouth shut as much as possible and speaking very softly when she did talk. It was classic—make yourself quiet and invisible, don’t say anything, don’t draw attention to yourself.
“A few times I didn’t move fast enough. But eventually I figured it out too. I called it his bullshit line. You’d think he was fine. Sometimes, he didn’t even seem drunk. Then bam, he’d thunder out, That’s buullshhit.” She could almost see his father’s spittle flying. “Then you either ran or hid. Or you got it. She always got it.”
Paige could no longer keep her mouth shut. “That’s a terrible way for a woman and a child to live.”
“Then she left.” He kept speaking as if he hadn’t heard her, lost in horrible memories. “I came home from fourth grade one day, and she was gone. He said she was sick of me. That she must have hated taking care of me so much she couldn’t stay one more second.”
He’d been nine years old. Abandoned to a monster. “Oh God, Evan. I’m so sorry.”
“I can step back now and see what it was like. He was pissed about having to feed me, clothe me, pay for anything at school. And he’d made her life a living hell because of it.” He shook his head as if to try to clear it. “I’m not heartless. I see how bad she had it.” He stopped, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “But she rescued them.”
The words he didn’t say all but shouted into the room: Why didn’t she rescue me?
“He went crazy after that. He didn’t have anyone else to hit. Just me. I couldn’t hide from him anymore. He sent a note to the school saying I was sickly and he refused to allow me in gym class anymore. So I never took my clothes off. I always wore long sleeves and long pants. Nobody ever saw.”
No one ever saw him cry, never saw his pain. No one knew.
Until the Mavericks found him.
“How long did you live alone with him before you moved in with Susan and Bob?”
“A couple of years.”
She couldn’t make a sound. Not even a gasp of horror. Not now that she knew he’d endured seven hundred and thirty days in the worst kind of hell.
But then Evan laughed. Like he wasn’t dying inside with all the memories. Memories she’d never be able to shake, though they weren’t even hers.
“Susan and Bob. You had to love them. I came home with Daniel one day after school, and Susan and Bob just gathered me right in. Like they did all the Mavericks. Sometimes I spent the night. One of those times, Susan made me take a bath, because I must have stunk the way only a dirty teenage boy can. I was standing there with a towel wrapped around my waist when she walked in to get my clothes so she could wash them.”
He stopped, drew inside himself again.
“She saw the bruises?”
A barely there nod was his answer.
“Did they call child services?”
“They wanted to make sure I came to them, not shunted off into the system to end up with strangers, like what happened to Ari. They sat me down at the kitchen table and made me tell them my story.” He huffed out a breath with the memory. “It was like pulling out every single one of my teeth.”
It explained why he’d flown off to Europe last month. When under the strain of discovering Whitney’s lies, he’d shut down, shut everyone out. He’d learned to do that in childhood.
“I remember them strategizing. Bob, he had it all figured out, what would get my dad to let me go.”
“They’re good people.”
“The best,” he agreed. “I wasn’t with them when they approached him. They figured it would go better without me—and I was scared he’d demand to keep me around as his punching bag. They told him they sympathized with how much kids cost, the terrible financial burden.” Evan dropped his voice to a gravelly note as if he were Bob. “Especially with his wife gone, all that responsibility, no one to take care of a kid during the day when he had to work. They understood how it was just too much. So they’d be happy to take me off his hands, relieve his burden.” His face turned dark again, his tone suddenly hoarse. “Thankfully, he couldn’t wait to get rid of the little guttersnipe. Said I was a pain in the ass, had always been a pain in the ass, and no amount of trying to fix me was ever going to do a damn bit of good.”
She blinked back tears, but the crack in her heart was already wide open. “Susan and Bob wouldn’t have told you any of that.”
“It was a kid who lived across the hall in our tenement block. He overheard it all and wanted to make sure I knew all the reasons my dad didn’t want me.”
Kids could be brutal, especially if they’d been abused themselves. But Evan shrugged as if he hadn’t cared. Even though his father’s words must have felt like being abandoned all over again, no matter what the man had done to him. He’d still been unwanted.
“I’m so glad Susan and Bob opened up their hearts, and their home, to you.”
“I wasn’t a great houseguest.”
“You weren’t a houseguest at all. You were a son to them from the start.”
“I know that now. But it took years. And a lot of acting out. And continued silence. Like you said, sometimes that’s the worst. It must have hurt them that I couldn’t let it all out. They must have felt like they weren’t helping me. When the truth was that I would have died without them. I just didn’t know how to show my gratitude.”
Her chest was achy and tight for the boy he’d been, for the pain he’d felt, the agony, for the adult world he couldn’t understand.
But he had learned in the end. To accept love. To trust. To discover people’s true worth.
Until Whitney had destroyed him all over again.
Nothing and no one on earth could have stopped Paige from throwing her arms around him then. Holding him tight, giving him all her caring, her warmth, her sympathy, her comfort.
She’d done it for patients, when they were crying, when they needed an arm around them and a gentle voice to talk them through. That’s all it was. It was all she intended it to be.
Until Evan�
�s mouth met hers.
And it became so much more.
Chapter Fourteen
Evan sank into Paige, her taste, her scent. Her kiss was heady, and he lost himself in her, the feel of her smooth, soft skin beneath his hand where he reached up to cup her cheek, the sound of her breath as it hitched, the sexy little moan vibrating in her throat.
He’d been lost, wandering in the dark. Now, he let himself be found in Paige’s light, her sweetness. Hauling her close, until there wasn’t an inch left between them, he tunneled his fingers into her hair as he ravaged her lips. She surrounded him, with her arms, her warmth, her legs, her body. Straddling him, she took as much as he did, consuming him in equal measure.
Almost as if his hands didn’t belong to him, they pulled open her shirt, the little buttons easily giving way beneath the force of his need. Her bra was next, the thin silk straps no barrier at all as he kissed his way down her neck to the hollow at her collarbone and along her shoulder. Her head fell back, giving him greater access, and she tantalized him with a moan of pleasure that thrummed through his body.
He dragged the silk, down, down, down…until the swells of her gorgeous breasts fell free.
He had to touch—Lord, she was beautiful—had to brush the pads of his thumbs over the taut peaks. And he had to taste. He would die if he didn’t. His lips closed around her, sucking, laving her with his tongue, plumping her flesh. With his other hand, he cupped her butt through her jeans, his body rocking up to meet hers.
“Evan.” His name came on a throaty groan of need. “It’s so good. So perfect. Please. Don’t stop.”
God, he didn’t ever want to stop. But her voice made it all real. What they were doing.
And how wrong it was.
He couldn’t keep kissing her, couldn’t touch her breasts again, couldn’t taste her as if she were his.
Because she wasn’t. She never could be. And not just because she was his sister-in-law.
He didn’t deserve her light. Couldn’t forget that he came from darkness. Couldn’t forget that things were an even bigger mess now than ever before. Hauling her deeper into his screwed-up life would only get her hurt in the end. He owed her so much more than dragging her into all that trouble.
“Evan?”
She held him in her arms, and he wanted her so damn badly. His need, his longing, was an ache in every muscle, in every cell, his body crying out for her.
And his heart wanted her just as much.
More.
“This is wrong,” he murmured, his arms still not willing to let her go even as his mind screamed out that he had to end it. He forced himself to shift back, to look her in the eye. “We can’t do this.”
“It’s not wrong,” she said softly, her lips so close he ached to taste them again. “And I’m not sorry for it.”
He couldn’t believe that the full-blown, no-holds-barred story of his childhood hadn’t sent her running. Whitney had never wanted to hear it, preferring to think of the future and ignore the past as if it played no part in who they’d become as adults. And he’d been willing to go along with that, relieved to keep it all inside.
But it turned out that telling Paige had been an unburdening for him. He’d actually felt a fraction of the weight lifting off him as he’d talked.
Paige had offered to care, to listen. That was why she’d hugged him. But he’d taken so much more than that.
Because he was damaged goods.
God, she was so damned tempting. Intoxicating. Irresistible. He’d never wanted anyone more. Never.
But he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t make one more selfish, bad move. Not after Whitney’s lies had sent him into hiding from the people who loved him. Not after the siblings he’d never known about had shown up on his doorstep asking not just for help, but for the simple chance to get to know him. Not after his mother had suddenly reappeared and all but begged for forgiveness.
“Why?”
The word was out before he could stop it. Everyone seemed to want something from him. Whitney had wanted him to live a life that was a lie. Tony and Kelsey wanted a big brother to help with their mother. Theresa wanted him to absolve her so that they could start again. But what did Paige want? He’d been so relieved when she’d appeared on his doorstep that he hadn’t even thought to ask. But now that he was trying to get himself to think clearly again, it was imperative that he know.
“Why did you come here today? Why did you leave Chicago and the celebration so soon?”
“This is why.” She looked down at her body draped over his, then shook her head as though realizing she’d said the wrong thing. “Not to jump you. But to talk with you.” Her gaze lowered to his mouth again. “About our kiss in Chicago.” She looked into his eyes. “And about why you avoided me after.”
Suddenly, the air tightened around him, like a vacuum sucking all the breath out of him. He pulled her bra straps up, set them in place, then made himself lift her from his lap, setting her back on the couch.
“Kissing you…” It’s like being able to finally breathe again. But he couldn’t say that. It would only lead them deeper down the rabbit hole. “You’re a beautiful woman, Paige. With a huge heart. I couldn’t have done this today without you. Couldn’t have gotten through so many things without you.”
The hurt darkening her eyes made him cringe as he fumbled through. But he had to stop this thing growing between them. Now. Before he hurt her. He couldn’t trust his own feelings anymore, his decisions, his emotions. And he couldn’t let Paige pay the price for that.
“But we both know we can’t do this.”
He sounded like a broken record. But that was because there was nothing else to say.
“I don’t know it.” She was already buttoning up her shirt, her hands surprisingly steady when his felt like they were caught in a major aftershock. “But you’ve got your family to deal with right now. So I’ll keep helping you with them.” She stood, then added, “If you want me to.”
Her gorgeous curves were backlit by the late afternoon sun streaming in through his library windows. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her hair was tangled from his hands.
God, the things he wanted. Things that might destroy her—that could destroy them both—if he actually took them.
Yet he couldn’t stand the thought of pushing her away completely. “Yes, I still want that.” I still want you. “Your help. I really need your help, Paige.”
“All right, then.” She didn’t smile, but she met his gaze steadily. “Thank you for telling me about your father. I know it was hard, but I hope it helped you. And it explains so much if I’m to try to help you with your family.”
For nearly a decade, he hadn’t allowed himself to knowingly compare Paige to Whitney. But now he couldn’t stop the thought that she outshone her sister by miles. Whitney’s façade was indisputably gorgeous—but Paige was as beautiful inside as she was on the outside.
She walked away then.
Not only beautiful, but strong too.
* * *
Paige put a hand to her trembling lips as she drove.
She would have let him take her right there on the couch. She would have given him anything.
Everything.
She knew in every corner of her soul that what they’d just done wasn’t wrong. Their passion had quickly flared out of control, but it had been perfect and beautiful.
Only the timing was wrong. As bad as it could be.
He’d been through so much in the last month with Whitney. Even more today with the surprise appearance of his siblings and the mother who had deserted him. He needed to deal with his family, find a resolution in his own heart. He had to find a way to come to terms with his past, his father, his mother, the things those two people had done to him.
Yet none of that changed her feelings. She’d never known how to make love easy. Or simple. And she sure didn’t know how now.
All she knew was that with every kiss they shared—and with every part of
his past that Evan revealed to her—she fell deeper. Harder.
And despite his insistence that what they were doing was wrong, those kisses—and the way he looked at her in those rare and precious moments when he dropped his guard—made her grow more hopeful that she might not be the only one falling.
Chapter Fifteen
Evan was strung out from four nights with hardly any sleep. He hadn’t been able to keep from playing those moments with Paige on the sofa over and over in his head. How good her skin had felt beneath his hands. How perfect her lips had been beneath his. How much he’d wanted to tear off every last stitch of her clothing and take her.
Slow.
Fast.
Gentle.
Rough.
Any way he could.
Every way he could.
No matter how hard he’d tried to blank out his mind and fall asleep, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Until he was sure he’d go stark raving mad with need and desire.
But now it was Tuesday morning, and Evan was in the backseat finishing up his phone call with a florist as Mortimer maneuvered through traffic heading up to San Francisco. He needed to let Paige know how much he appreciated her help on Sunday. He wanted to say thank you with more than a bouquet of flowers. She deserved so much more for her unending support. But the flowers would at least brighten her day and make her smile, until he could come up with something more substantial.
Something he could do for her that didn’t involve dragging her down into the muck of his life.
And now, regardless of how tired and distracted he was, it was time to make good on his promise to check in on Theresa. He pulled out the card on which she’d written her phone number. And was surprised by the twinge in his heart at seeing her familiar handwriting. Once upon a time, she used to write him funny notes to find in his lunchbox.