by Jo Davis
“Make it up to me?” she breathed. The room was closing in. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t begin to know how to respond. “I—I need time. To think.”
She stood, grabbed her purse. Then she realized she’d loaned Blake her car.
Taylor stood. “I’ll take you home.”
“It’s only a few minutes from here. I can walk.” Blake could have, too, for that matter. But he’d known she was with Taylor and wasn’t supposed to need her car.
She didn’t mean to sound curt. Maybe she should stay, try to talk things out. But her brain was a chaotic mess, and in the center of the cacophony, there was Taylor, saying, I couldn’t choose. It didn’t make sense.
Her sister was dead. If he’d chosen Jenny, would she still be alive?
Taylor tried to protest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s dark and—”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for years,” she said curtly. “I can manage the short distance to my house.”
He looked away and then nodded, expression resigned. He didn’t try to apologize anymore, and she was glad, because she didn’t know what to say. That it was okay? Was it okay?
He looked so miserable, she gave an inch. “I’ll call you.”
“All right,” he responded sadly. “Talk to you soon.”
As she’d claimed, the walk was brief. Once or twice, she could’ve sworn she heard a slight noise, maybe a footstep, and finally she whirled—only to see nothing but the empty sidewalk behind her. Would Taylor have followed to make sure she was safe? Yes, he would. He’d make sure I got home all right, no matter how I tried to dissuade him.
In minutes, she was letting herself in the house. Closing the door, she listened to him walk away. It wasn’t until then she realized she was crying. Blake looked up from his spot on the sofa and his eyes widened as he leaped to his feet.
“What’s wrong? I wasn’t really expecting you tonight. Did something happen between you two?”
Taking a shaky breath, she wiped her cheeks and moved forward. Immediately she was wrapped in a fierce hug and she clung to him for a minute, soaking up the comfort he offered. Such a sweet boy.
“Come on, let’s sit down,” he told her.
Pulling back, she followed him to the sofa, where they sat close, the younger man studying her anxiously. “I’m all right. I just need time to process something Taylor told me.”
“Can you share with me, or is it private?”
“He might get upset with me for saying anything, but I need somebody to talk to.” She needed perspective. A calm third party to listen.
“I’m here, then.” He patted her hand. “I won’t tell anyone else.”
“I know. Remember when I told you that Taylor was involved in the hostage standoff with my sister? There was more. He told me tonight that just before my sister’s husband went off the deep end and shot them all, he’d given Taylor an ultimatum—to choose who got to live or they’d all die.”
“Oh, my God! That’s evil!”
“Yeah.” More tears leaked from her eyes and she swiped at them. “Evil is the right word.”
“So . . . why are you here?” He appeared genuinely baffled.
“What do you mean? I couldn’t very well stay after he dropped a bomb like that on me!”
“Why not?”
“Because I needed to think! He told that lunatic he couldn’t choose, Blake! And then Connor shot my beautiful sister and those other people.” Her breath hitched on a sob.
Unable to hold in the grief anymore, she broke. Blake wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her as she cried, the loss as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. For the longest time the young man didn’t say a word. Eventually, however, he couldn’t keep silent.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting.” Pulling back, he swiped her cheeks with his thumb. “But I’ll bet Taylor is, too. It seems like you walked out on him after he shared the most awful moment in his life with you.”
Staring at the kid, she tried to tamp down the sick feeling that rose in her stomach. “I couldn’t deal with it right then. I had to go.”
“I can understand why you’d feel that way, but I can also imagine how lost Taylor’s feeling right now. He probably thinks you hate him.”
“I don’t,” she whispered. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that he could’ve saved my sister and her unborn child.”
“That’s not fair. He didn’t know she was pregnant. And even if he had, if he’d made that choice, there’s no guarantee the crazy bastard would have kept the bargain. Meanwhile Taylor would’ve been giving the others a death sentence. Can you put yourself in his place? Really visualize making that decision in front of the others, having to see their faces when you basically played God and condemned them to death?”
“I . . . hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Your sister’s husband may have been crazy, but he was smart enough to know the exact way to terrorize everyone in that room.” Blake shook his head. “The bastard left a good cop so traumatized he gave up a job in a high-profile police department in a big city to move here and start over. Your life was ripped apart, but his was, too.”
“God.” She lowered her face to her hands. “I completely fucked up.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean that you fucked up. But if you guys are going to work past this, you have to look at things from his perspective also.”
“Maybe you’re right and I should go back over there. But I just need time to sleep on it.” She rose, feeling exhausted. “I’m going to bed.”
“Let me know if you need me.”
After sending him a wan smile, she retreated to her bedroom, where she stripped and fell into bed in record time. Sleep didn’t come easy, though. A man with sad green eyes chased her into her dreams.
• • •
The next day was a long rehearsal with the band. It was made even longer by the fact that she’d rather be at Taylor’s house, trying to make things okay between them. It shamed her to think of how fast she’d gotten out of there after he’d opened up to her. She’d received a couple of texts from him and had only answered in short phrases, letting him know she was all right. She just had to talk to him in person. Texting wasn’t ideal for communicating.
When quitting time rolled around, she was anxious and ready to get going. Which was why she was less than thrilled when Jinx stopped her, wanting to talk. Blake eyed the guitarist uncertainly, but Cara smiled at the younger man and told him to wait outside.
Once Blake was gone, Jinx shifted from foot to foot, looking uneasy. “I want to apologize again for last night. It was stupid of me—I mean, it’s obvious you and the cop are together—but I guess a part of me wasn’t ready to let go.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him.
He sighed. “You ever take for granted somebody will always be there, and then all of a sudden it gets shoved in your face that they won’t? That they’ve already moved on?”
“I have, but she didn’t move on. She was taken from me.”
“Your sister.” His face paled. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right. We do tend to stick our heads in the sand and ignore that things change.” She smiled at him. “I think of you as a friend and I hope you feel the same.”
“I do,” he said emphatically. “I don’t want to lose that with you.”
“Me, either.” Giving him a quick hug, she stepped back. “I have to go. See you later.”
Outside, Blake was leaning against the car. “Everything cool with Jinx?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. He apologized again.” Unlocking the vehicle, she got in and Blake followed suit.
“Poor guy. It must suck to think you’re going to get your girl back, only to realize she’s not yours anymore.”
“Or never was. Jinx and I were an item f
or a while, but we sort of ended it by mutual agreement without much fanfare. That is, I thought it was mutual, but now I realize that in his mind, he was giving me space until we got back together.”
“That won’t be a problem for you and the band?”
“No, I don’t think so. We’re good.” She glanced at him as she pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m dropping you off at Guitar Center, right?”
“First night on the job! You won’t have me in your hair nearly as much from now on, and before you know it, I’ll be able to afford my own place.” He beamed at the prospect.
“I’m proud of you, but there’s no rush as far as I’m concerned,” she assured him. “Take your time, save some money, then explore your options.”
“Thanks, Cara. What you and Taylor have done for me these past few months . . . it means the world.”
“I’m glad to help, and I know Taylor is, too. I enjoy having you around, but I also remember when I went out on my own for the first time, away from my parents and their expectations of how I should run my life. It’s liberating.”
“I’ll know that feeling soon enough. I’ve been on my own for a while, but surviving on the street isn’t the same as earning an income and being able to pay for a place to live.”
“True. You’re on the right track now, and I know you’ll be fine.”
They chatted companionably until Cara dropped him off. “Call me if you need a ride home after work.”
“Nah, I’ll catch a ride.”
“You sure?”
“Totally. I’ve got my house key, too, so don’t worry if you’re occupied someplace else.” He winked, getting a laugh from her.
“All right. Have a good first shift!”
After he headed inside, she pointed the car for Taylor’s house. With each minute closer, the knot in her stomach grew bigger. Maybe she should’ve gone back last night. He’d been so down, and she’d been too caught up in her own grief to acknowledge his.
Finally, she parked in his driveway and sat for a few moments, gathering her courage. Part of her wanted to turn and run, but her need to be with him overrode her fear of rejection. Getting out of the car, she headed to the porch. Rang his doorbell and waited. When there was no response, she rang it again. Then knocked. Nothing.
Which was odd, because there were lights on in the house. At least one in the living room, dim enough to be a table lamp. She’d spotted a light on toward the back of the house, where the kitchen was located. The idea that he was deliberately ignoring her almost sent her away. The sudden surety that Taylor was not the sort of man to do that kept her focus firmly on finding him.
Something was wrong. Some spineless bastard had nearly killed him, and was probably still after him. What if—
No. She couldn’t voice that thought, even in her head. There was a perfectly good explanation for why he wasn’t answering. Stepping off the porch, she decided to try another door.
Around back, then. Fortunately it wasn’t full dark yet, the Technicolor of twilight still brilliant in the sky. Otherwise she’d be creeped out by walking between his house and the neighbors’, jumping at shadows and imagining she saw a hit man behind every bush. She’d laugh at herself, only that scenario was a real possibility.
Rounding the corner of the house, she unlatched the gate in the privacy fence, slipped through, and shut it again. She was contemplating whether she could gain entrance through his French doors when she saw him.
Taylor was sprawled in a lounger on the back deck, three brown bottles—empty ones, she guessed—sitting close to where his hand hung over the armrest. His eyes were closed, the colors of the sunset illuminating his blond hair and playing over his muscular chest. Anger rose in her breast, hot and tight.
The stupid cop was asleep. Or passed out stone-cold, more likely. Snoring away on his deck as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if the situation was rosy and there wasn’t a homicidal maniac out to smoke his ass.
Stomping up the steps, she marched over to his lounger, grabbed the backrest, and shook the whole chair hard as she yelled at him. “You dumb-ass! What the fuck are you trying to do?”
He came awake, sitting bolt upright, sputtering and reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. “Shit!”
“Do you want a bullet between the eyes? Want to make sure he doesn’t miss this time?” Glaring down at him, she waited for an answer. “Well?”
“Jesus,” he muttered, swiping a hand down his face. “A simple hello would’ve been fine.”
“What the hell is the matter with you? One blip on our relationship radar and you have a death wish?”
“I’d say my being responsible for your sister’s death, not to mention her baby’s, is more than just a blip, as you put it.” He looked away.
“Oh no.” Crouching next to him, she gave him a fierce scowl. “You don’t get to do that anymore. I’m not listening to that bullshit one more second, and I want you—no, I demand that you—wipe that self-inflicted guilt out of our lives.”
“What?” He gazed up at her, renewed hope lighting his eyes.
“You heard me. Whether this relationship has a chance depends on whether you’re going to hang on to the negative energy from that day and use it as a club to beat us both black and blue. If a relationship with me is still something you want to try, that is.”
Taking her hand, he clutched it, rubbing her skin with his thumb. “I do, more than anything. I don’t want the past to be a wedge that comes between us.”
“Then you have to stop. Let it go. I realize now there was nothing you could’ve done differently to change what Connor did. You have to believe it, too. He went nuts, and that was it.”
Searching her face for a long moment, he nodded. “I think I can do that. I know I can, if I have one important thing from you.”
“Anything—whatever you need.” She meant it.
“I need to know that you forgive me.”
Her heart ached for him. Or course he needed that. Had for years, and thought absolution would never be his. And he trusted Cara enough to know that if she gave it to him, she would mean every word.
“Taylor, I forgive you,” she said softly, with every ounce of sincerity in her body. “Whatever you believe there is to forgive you for, I give it to you freely. Please be at peace with this so we can move forward.”
His expression was like the light breaking through the darkest of clouds. His eyes became moist but his handsome face was filled with a joy she hadn’t witnessed in him since they’d met.
“For the first time in four years, I’ve finally found a reason to wake up in the morning and be happy about it. Until this second, I didn’t remember what that felt like.”
“I feel the same way.” Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. Touched his face, careful of the bandage at his temple. “I was so scared when I found you out here like this. As though you were waiting for that asshole to come and finish you off.”
“Part of me was,” he confessed. “I couldn’t picture you forgiving me after what I told you.”
“I’m so sorry for leaving you feeling that way last night.” She gestured to where the beer bottles sat on the other side of his lounger. “What about your pain meds? Please tell me you weren’t drinking while taking them.”
“No. I haven’t had any today. Decided I’d rather drown my sorrows. I’m regretting that now.” He grimaced.
“I’ll bet. Looks like it’s aspirin for you.”
“I know something else that will make me feel better.” Reaching around to cup the back of her head, he pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly. His tongue delved inside and he tasted like beer, but she didn’t mind. Underneath that, he tasted like her man. Clean. Heady.
Arousal sparked, and she was reminded that it had been too long. A few days was too long to be without him surrounding her. She wanted to fix
that now.
“I need you,” she said into his lips.
“Not nearly as much as I need you. Let’s take this inside, shall we?”
“We could be naughty and do the dirty right here on the patio.”
“And you fussed at me for sleeping out here,” he teased. “I don’t want to get caught by a killer with my dick out.”
Smiling in spite of the seriousness of that possibility, she rose and held out a hand. “Up, then! Let’s go!”
Inside, he made sure all the doors were locked, and then set the house alarm. The reason behind that simple act sobered her some, but not enough to damper her enthusiasm for making love with him.
He led her upstairs, and they tumbled onto his bed with her on top, laughing.
Taylor pressed his lips to hers, scattering her thoughts to the wind. She arched into him, deepening the kiss, seeking his closeness again, his warmth. If he’d tasted good, he smelled fantastic. A hint of his spicy cologne lingered and she wondered what scent he wore. Unable to resist, she rested her palms on the solid wall of his chest, enjoying how the strength vibrated from his taut muscles. The anticipation.
Angling his body, he leaned into her, easing her back onto the bedspread. Following her down, he lay half on top of her, their legs entwined. He buried a hand in her hair, brought a lock to his nose. Inhaled.
She relished his weight on top of her. Solid, strong. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest, hard and fast.
“I love seeing you here,” he breathed. “Not just in my bed, but with me. Connected to me.”
“Yes.”
He kissed her again. Not gentle this time, but hot. Hungry. The kiss of a starving man, too long denied—not sex, but the connection he craved to someone who cared. Deeper, his mouth ravaging, tongue thrusting. She wrapped her arms around him, hands splayed across his back, urging him closer. Loving the play of lean muscle under her fingertips.
Taylor wasn’t the only one who’d been denied, she realized. How had this man survived nearly four years of isolation and inner pain, of having no one to hold or comfort him? How had she?
She drank him hungrily, wishing away their clothing. Fantasizing about his lithe, naked body sinking into hers. No sooner had she envisioned it than he made it reality, shedding his jeans and shorts, sheathing himself, and then going to work on her clothes.