by T. J. Kline
She bolted upright in the bed as the memories flooded back—Gage coming for coffee, getting angry, telling him about her past—everything, including the mistakes she’d made. She looked around the room, searching for anything that might give her a clue where Gage had gone. Her eyes fell on the clock, and she realized the boys would be here in less than an hour for a final session before they left. Leah swung her legs over the side of the bed as Gage entered the room.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I have a session, remember? I need a quick shower.”
“Leah.”
She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t, Gage. We can talk about this another time.” She turned her back on him, as she reached for a shirt in the closet. “Or not at all. Trust me,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you at all for trying to forget everything I told you.”
Gage crossed the room in just a few strides and turned her so that she faced him, his hand curving at the side of her neck, his fingers burying themselves into her tangled hair.
“Don’t.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t start hiding from me again.”
Her hands rested against the wall of his abs, and she felt him tense. She wanted to deny everything, to fall back into the stoic persona she’d cultivated, but he’d already seen the truth. He’d seen how paper-thin that facade was. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, as he tipped her face up to his, and the familiar shiver of heat spread through her limbs.
“I don’t know how to do anything else,” she confessed. “I’ve been hiding all my life. From my mother, from people who wouldn’t believe the truth.” She let her forehead fall against his chest, hiding her face and her shame. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“You have no idea what your trust means to me.” His voice was thick with emotion, sounding like he was holding back his own tears. “I never meant to make you feel the way . . . ” He didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need him to.
“Gage, you never hurt me or made me feel afraid. When I’m with you, when we . . . ” She took a step back so he could see her face. “I don’t feel the way I did. That’s what’s so confusing for me. It scares me.” She felt the blush cover her cheeks and turned away before he could see it, walking to the end of the bed. “Everything in my life has taught me that sex is a tool, either a bargaining chip or a weapon to hurt. Use or be used. But with you . . . it’s not like that.”
Gage took a step toward her, but she held out her hand. She wanted to finish saying this before her nerve left her, before she let fear or common sense swallow up her courage.
“Wait, let me finish. I’m not saying I expect anything from you in return, especially after everything I told you. Obviously, I’m not as far removed from my past as I like to believe I am, but you make me feel like I could be, like I could get to that point where it can’t affect my future.”
Gage stopped where he was, about two feet from her, and tucked his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. She could see the tension in his shoulders, but she couldn’t tell if it was because what she said encouraged or upset him.
“I don’t know what this is,” she said, waving her hand between them, “but thank you for this morning. I have never had anyone but Nicole who would just be there for me.”
“How long were you with her?” His question was quiet and not the one she’d expected, giving everything she’d confessed.
“She was my high school counselor and eventually became my foster mother for two years.” Her eyes misted with tears. “She’s the reason I wanted to become a therapist. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her.”
Gage’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly as he closed the distance between them, letting his hands fall to her upper arms, pulling her back into his embrace. “I’d love to meet her someday,” Gage said as he tucked her head beneath his chin.
She smiled sadly against his throat. “You can’t, but she’d have liked you.”
“I’m sorry. She must have been a great woman,” he whispered against her hair, and she realized he must have guessed by her use of past tense that Nicole was no longer in her life. “And I will be there for you whenever you need me.”
“You can’t promise that. You don’t know me that well.” In spite of her cynical nature, Leah wanted to believe him, to take him at his word and trust his promise. After what he’d seen and heard this morning, he was still here. That alone said a lot about Gage’s character.
“What? You don’t think spending twelve hours a day together for the last week is enough to know you?” She felt his smile against her hair, felt him relax as he ran his hand over the back of her head. “Leah, I don’t know everything about you, but I told you I would be your friend. I wasn’t lying then and nothing you’ve said can change that. I care about you.”
Relief coursed through her, sapping whatever strength she had left, and she leaned into him, tightening her arms around his waist and enjoying the moment. For the first time, she felt like she could trust someone else to be strong for her and allow herself a chance to release the fear that had dogged her for so long. He hadn’t tried to fill her head with pretty words, he didn’t try to pretend her past didn’t matter, he didn’t try to convince her that he loved her or ask her for something she couldn’t offer him.
All of those things would have been lies. Instead he gave her his honesty, and that made her feel safer than any lie ever could.
Chapter Eighteen
“NATHAN, I NEED your help.” Gage didn’t know who else to turn to. If nothing else, Nathan would have the connections to help him get the ball rolling on the idea he’d been contemplating since his conversation with Jude.
“What’s up?” Nathan looked up from the computer in the office he shared with Jessie. “Recovered from the campout yet?”
“Yeah, that was fun.” Gage rolled his eyes as he took a seat in one of the plush, leather chairs situated in front of the mahogany desk. “How do I go about setting up a nonprofit organization? I want to start a school.”
Nathan’s brows shot toward the ceiling. “A what?”
“Well, maybe not a school exactly, but a place where kids could go learn skills, either mechanical or technical, something that might help them feel like they weren’t just wasting their brains being bored in a classroom all day. It needs to be for at-risk kids, not some pandering day-camp.” He ran a hand over the top of his head as he continued to think aloud. “I want it to be challenging but something that will help them learn how to do good instead of using their genius to get into trouble.”
Nathan folded his hands in front of him. “You mean Jude.”
“Not just Jude, but kids like him. He’s smart, a freaking genius, and he’s lashing out because he’s bored, and no one is giving him an outlet to use that brain. What if I could create a place where he could?”
Nathan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Well, for starters, you’d have to decide who you’d help. Just smart kids? And how would you set the standard, IQ tests? Or would it be for anyone who wanted to attend? Then you’d have to set up some sort of curriculum or educational plan. Once you have that, you’re going to need to write out a business plan and start finding investors willing to participate. All while you’re trying to get your 501c3 status. It’s going to be a lot of work.”
“I’d be one of the main investors.” Gage had no problem forking out money for a cause that would teach kids how to be a positive influence on the future of technology rather than a hindrance.
“You or Iconics Industries?”
“Does it matter?” He trusted Nathan’s input. The man was highly intelligent and one of the most sought after financial analysts in the United States, but more than anything else, Gage knew he was a good person. Nathan had fought against corruption more than once to make sure the right side prevailed.
“You can give your money to any cause or person you choose. However, Iconics Industries can’t. There are
meetings and shareholders to convince, documentation to provide if they are going to be major contributors.” Nathan paused, as if unsure how to proceed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with bolstering Iconics’ image after the latest less than stellar product release, would it?”
Of course, Nathan would know Iconics was at fault for the recent system breaches. But that had nothing to do with Gage’s interest in starting a foundation. He missed getting involved in the creative process, honing his skills, and figuring out problems. He was tired of letting everyone else create while he just checked the product and signed off on it. He didn’t want to answer to stockholders and worry about what their shares were selling for. He needed to feel like he was making a difference again. He had lost his passion for his work at some point in the past ten years, and somehow, in the last week here with Leah and Jude, he remembered what it felt like to have that again.
He would pay the price for his error, and he would step down from his position at Iconics, but he could only do it if there was something better waiting. This was his “something better.”
“It has to do with Iconics, but not in the way you think. Can you help me do this? Help me find the best people to make this successful?”
A slow grin spread over Nathan’s face, his eyes brightening. “I can make some calls. For the record, I think this is a great idea.”
LEAH WAVED GOOD-BYE to the boys as Melody backed her SUV down the driveway. She was going to miss them. At the clinic where she’d worked before coming to Heart Fire, it was a relief when one of her clients moved on. It meant they’d progressed to a point where she was no longer needed, or they found someone else. In reality, she’d never had time to miss anyone. Her patient load was far too heavy, and complex, to wonder what might happen in the future. But with these four boys, she hoped they’d return, even as she wished they wouldn’t.
“I should probably head out tonight, too.” Gage’s hand reached for Leah’s as Jessie turned to face them.
“Oh, are you leaving?”
Leah could feel the tension spark between the two of them and wondered what had caused the sudden animosity.
“I have a few meetings in the Bay Area. I should be back in a couple of days.”
“I thought you were leaving tomorrow,” Leah said.
Leah glanced up at him, standing behind her, and was struck again by his dark, expressive eyes as he gazed down on her. She could see more in them than she wanted to—concern, respect, desire. If they were alone, he’d kiss her, she had no doubt. And she wouldn’t stop him.
“I had to schedule a few more meetings than I thought I would. It shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
“Uh-huh.” Jessie obviously didn’t believe him, and Leah wondered why it mattered. “We have a group coming next Monday, so you have this week to prepare. They’ll be here for ten days, and it’s going to be about eight girls, ranging from fourteen to eighteen.” Jessie shot Leah a nervous glance. “They’ve been recommended to us from a women’s shelter in Sacramento to help them deal with abuse.”
Gage’s hand squeezed hers reassuringly. This wasn’t the first time she’d been expected to counsel women who’d been abused; however, it was the first time since sharing her experience with someone who knew that it might affect her. With Gage, she couldn’t pretend that it wouldn’t be difficult or that she wasn’t relating to their experiences. He could read her, whether she wanted him to or not.
She met Jessie’s gaze, saw the way she examined them. This was also the first time she would have someone watching her closely, scrutinizing her every reaction.
“I have a few ideas that should get some conversations started. We can’t do it the way we did with the boys, but I think a night on The Ridge would be a great idea. Without Nathan and Gage.” She cast an apologetic glance at Gage. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’m sure men are the last thing they need around. I just hope you’re not too jealous of the nice, comfy bed I’ll have,” he teased.
Jessie glared at him. “For the girls, I’ll bring blow-up mattresses and tents. You can stay in your nice, comfy bed, alone.” She turned her attention to Leah. “I’ll set it up for Tuesday, after they’ve had their first riding lesson. We can get my sister and Bailey to come, maybe bring a few of the therapy dogs as well.”
It was actually a brilliant idea. The animals worked wonders for helping people find comfort and to loosen their reservations enough to talk, especially knowing that their secrets were safe, since the animals wouldn’t judge. For those that might be intimidated by the size of the horses, the dogs could provide a welcome substitution. Leah had tried to convince the clinic to try therapy animals with several of her clients, but they had never approved her requests.
“I love the idea.”
“We should take a ride to Julia’s place this week, and Bailey can help you figure out which dogs would work out best for our program. I’m sure Moose would love a friend or two around here to play with.” At the mention of his name, the giant shepherd nudged her hand. Jessie looked from Leah to Gage before her eyes fell on their clasped hands, and a frown formed on her brow. “I have work to do.”
“What was that about?” Leah turned on Gage when Jessie had left earshot.
He shrugged nonchalantly and reached for her waist. “Who knows?”
“You know and don’t pretend you don’t.” Leah pulled her hand from his grasp. “She is my boss, Gage. I can’t risk losing this job.”
“You’re not going to lose your job.” He sighed as he slipped his hands to her hips and drew her close. “First of all, you’re great at your job and Jessie can see that. She’s not going to let you go because of me. Second, this isn’t her decision to make.”
Leah’s hands slid up his arms, coming to rest on his biceps, flexing slightly under her fingertips. “And what decision is that? What exactly is this?”
Gage’s eyes smoldered, growing darker with each second that ticked by. “I honestly don’t know what to call it, Leah.”
The way his voice dropped, the husky sound that seemed to caress her skin as he drew her close, his arms moving around to her back, the musky scent of him surrounding her, made her pulse race even as her blood pooled in places she never thought it would.
Desire, longing, need—she’d never experienced any of them. The ability to feel any sort of sexual attraction had been stolen from her before she’d even understood that it was a natural experience, one that everyone should have. Years of sexual abuse had killed any sense of excitement and replaced it with fear. She’d secretly been envious of the women who felt anything, convincing herself that she was above her most base instincts, but the fact that she never experienced them reminded her of the pain of her past, making her feel used and wasted.
Even now, instead of relishing every moment with Gage as her pulse fluttered in her chest and the heat spiraled through her body, she fought the natural instincts Gage drew out in her. She fought the yearning to touch him, to feel his skin scorching her, to trace the valleys and ridges of muscle she could feel under the waffled Henley shirt he wore, to let his hands explore her.
A flush rose over her, and she licked her lower lip before biting the corner. Gage groaned quietly, deep in his chest.
“Aw, hell, Leah, stop looking at me that way, or you’re going to get us both into trouble.” She lifted her gaze to see his deep brown eyes nearly black with desire. Gone was the look of concern and sweet kindness she usually saw. She saw him clench his jaw, felt his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hip slightly. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“A walk?” she repeated, unable to force her brain to function and spit out words that made sense. Leah wondered if every bit of her brain’s blood flow hadn’t been rerouted.
“Yes,” he growled. “Because walking will force you to stop looking at me like I’m your next meal and you’ve just decided you’re starving.” He reached for her hand and dragged her toward one of the walking paths that led to the paddoc
ks behind the barn. “And it will give us some privacy.”
“So will my house.” She made the offer without thinking.
“Dear God, you’re trying to kill me,” Gage muttered under his breath.
GAGE HAD BEEN desperately trying to figure out a way to keep a safe distance between him and Leah since her revelation. Not because he wanted to, but from the sound of things, she’d never had any healthy relationships, even friendships, other than one she’d shared with her counselor, and his heart ached with the loneliness she must have felt over the years. He didn’t want her to feel like he was pressuring her into anything. She’d been coerced and violated enough in her life. He would force his body into submission because he would not rush this with her.
He wanted to make sure she knew what it felt like to be cherished, what it should have felt like to be loved.
Easy there, Ace. Love is a strong word.
He couldn’t argue with his own logic, and he wasn’t admitting he was in love with Leah, but he cared about her, a lot, and it was different than it had been with any other woman he’d dated—not that the two of them were even really dating. What the hell were they doing, anyway?
So far she’d been silent as they walked behind the barn, and he was grateful she hadn’t pressed him about what Jessie had said. He hadn’t told her yet about Jessie warning him to stay away. He would prove Jessie wrong, so that the entire issue was a moot point. What Jessie didn’t know yet was that he wasn’t going to be another man who hurt her, nor was he leaving. Watching Leah with the boys helped him make that decision.
He’d been tied up for far too long in the drudgery of corporate politics. He and George had started the company in order to help people. Somewhere along the way, that purpose had been lost. After their camping trip, he’d quickly realized that he was blaming the wrong people for his slide into shame. It wasn’t the hackers who’d trashed his reputation; he’d done that well before they ever found the backdoor into the security program. He’d sold his soul, and he was going to make it right. If not for the woman beside him right now, he would have never recognized it.