by Brynn Paulin
“It’s just a job working at their restaurant, but my aunt and uncle have a position at their resort this summer,” she’d told me. “It could give you a couple of months to regroup.”
I’d jumped at it.
It wasn’t glamorous or fulfilling, but it was something to do. I was busy, and I could muster a bright smile for people, even if I was dying inside. I’d gotten really good at it over the past few months.
I swiped a cloth over one of the café’s tables, clearing the crumbs left from the rambunctious two-year-old who’d just left with his harried young mother. Young… I huffed a bitter laugh. It was funny that I’d think of her that way. After all, the woman was about the same age as me. But I felt old. Overwhelmed by life. Lost.
My fist closed around the rag, and I shook my head. Not here. Not now. I wouldn’t dwell. Later, when I was alone, I’d let the tears come again. Just as they did every night.
Heading back behind the counter, I tossed the cloth in the sanitizer bucket and busied myself spraying and cleaning the menus. It was our slow time between lunch and the dinner rush. I’d be out of here soon, free for the rest of the day. I should get out and at least take a walk this evening.
“Savannah,” Oakley, my boss, called from the kitchen. I looked up, locating him on the other side of the grill window. “Why don’t you head out, kiddo? You’re already over for time this week. You trying to break me?” he joked.
“’Course not.”
He winked to let me know he was joking, but I already knew it. He was one of the owners’ son and only worked here during the season to help out his parents. He was always teasing me, and he was so much like my older brothers it was scary. I knew if they ever met, they’d get on like long-lost friends. Or they’d despise each other because they were too alike. I’d guess the former though.
Oakley and I get on great, too. So great in fact, that the other waitress regularly on my shift, Tammy, thought something was going on between us. I quickly set her straight on that one and let her know my heart belonged to only one man, a man I couldn’t have. There was no substitute.
I didn’t tell her why I couldn’t have him. I hadn’t told anyone.
“You gonna be okay in this storm?” Tammy asked as I took off my apron and got ready to leave. I didn’t need to grab a thing since I just walked to and from my place and had my ID and key in my pocket.
“It’s just rain. I’ll be fine. Promise.” And the weather for the past ten days matched my mood. I snorted as I thought, I am one with the rain. I’d climb into the bed of the tiny camper I’d borrowed from Tammy, light the lantern and lose myself in one of the library books I was reading. I had four to choose from, but none of them particularly interested me right this second.
Maybe, I should stop at the hotel gift shop. They had some books in there.
I glanced at the trees whipping in the wind. Hopefully, I’d be as fine as I assured Tammy I would be. And that was a firm no on the book. It would be waterlogged by the time I got to the campground.
The rain didn’t let up at all as I left. By the time I reached the beach, taking the path to the campground, I was soaked to the skin. Water dripped from my hair and into my face. I rubbed my cheek on my sleeve—not that it helped since my T-shirt was drenched as well.
“Life’s just fan-fucking-tastic,” I muttered then laughed, maybe a little maniacally. Well, I’d wanted to take a walk, so I might as well. It was a downpour, but with no thunder or lightning.
I wasn’t the only fool out here. I saw a guy in jeans and a white shirt sitting on the beach and staring at the water. His arms rested on his bent knees while the rain plastered his dark hair to his head. The fabric of his clothes clung to his muscular frame. An uncomfortable and unwelcomed bolt of arousal flared through me as I stared at him. What the hell?
Confusion filled me as I froze. Then suddenly, I understood. As if sensing me, the man turned his head. Recognition hit me hard, and I stumbled back a few steps.
Jordan came to his feet in a split second. There was no confusion or hesitation in him. His long strides ate up the distance between us as he stalked my way, intention and determination clear on his beautiful face. He seemed to have a slight limp, but maybe that was the sand. With the rain, it slid underfoot, probably affecting his gait. It didn’t slow him a bit.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped as he yanked me into his embrace. Unrelenting steel bands locked around me with no sign he’d ever let go. This wasn’t a loving, desperate touch. No, it was a claim. A resolve to never let go. I close my eyes against the intense relief that filled me at being so close to him.
No, no, no! I couldn’t feel this way.
“I’m on my honeymoon,” he said darkly. Any relief evaporated in an instant, the remnants washed away by grief. Pain stabbed through my chest. Tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision, and I thanked God that the storm hid them.
No. No, he couldn’t be with anyone else.
But wasn’t that what I wanted?
His grip didn’t loosen a bit, even when I tried to yank away.
“Stop it. You’re not leaving me again. I’m not with another woman,” he growled. “Do you really think I could ever be with someone else? I never could! This is our honeymoon. It was supposed to be ours.”
“No.” Even more came tears, accompanied by the hollow ache of wanting something I could never, ever have.
“Stop,” he commanded, holding me tighter. “Why are you trying to run? You didn’t think I’d let you get away, did you? You’re mine, Van. Always have been; always will be.”
“Jordan,” I implored. “Please. You have to let me go.”
“Never.”
Don’t fold. Stay strong.
“You have to.”
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because I can’t be your wife,” I screamed. Why couldn’t he understand this, let me go? Why couldn’t he just believe me and leave me in the pain?
“Why?”
“Because…” I breathed. My fight departed so quickly it left me weak.
“Why?” he whispered. He kissed the sensitive skin near my ear. My body betrayed me, and I trembled in his hold. The relief of his presence overwhelmed me. I never wanted to let him go. Even if I had to.
“I can’t give you what you need,” I confessed.
“Van,” he gasped. “All I need—all I have ever needed—is you. So yes, you can damn well give me what I need.”
I shook my head. “I’m not. I’m not all you need.”
This time, I succeeded in pulling away.
“You are,” he insisted.
I shook my head again and turned to leave. I got maybe two yards, only because I was practically running. In a second, Jordan was behind me. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me back against his hard torso, his chest heaving against my back. I knew it was emotion and not exertion.
His face pressed into my neck, and he inhaled. I knew I had to smell like the restaurant. I squirmed to get away, but he held me tighter. His mouth moved up my neck to my ear. He nipped the lobe. I shivered even as my resolve melted and my body went liquid for him.
“I’m not letting you get away,” he repeated. “I’m so fucking angry with you, but you’re not leaving me. I’m dying without you, Van. And by the looks of you, you’re dying without me, too.”
His hand ran over my hip where the bone jutted out. “God, baby, haven’t you been eating?”
I shook my head, barely able to speak. “Can’t.”
“Are you sick? Is that why you ran? I’ll take care of you.”
“I’m not sick. Jordan, you can’t—”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. What I can do, what I will do is fight for you. What I can’t do and what I won’t do is leave you. If I have to stay here in Cherish Cove and stalk your ass until you get frustrated and give in to what you know is right, then I fucking will.”
I stared at him, still confused that he was here, that I’d run into him o
n a beach, in the middle of a storm, fifteen-hundred miles from home.
“What are you even doing here?” I whispered.
Just then a giant crash sounded, startling us both. So much for this not being a thunderstorm. Jordan went hard, every bit of him tensing before he tackled me to the sand and covered me with his body.
“Jordan!” I cried, shoving at his body. “Let me up. Let. Me. Up!”
“Not until it’s safe,” he muttered. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“It’s not safe out here. We have to get inside and away from the water. Come on!”
He didn’t seem to hear me. His amber-colored eyes were unfocused as if he were somewhere far away. Grabbing his face, I did the only thing I could think of to bring him back. I had to get his attention even if it would sear me down to my soul.
My lips planted on his, giving him the kiss I would have planted on him the day he returned from the Middle East—if I’d been there for his return home. For a long moment, he was stiff over me. Then like a balloon deflating, he groaned, and the tension seeped from him. His hands buried in my hair, and his mouth opened over mine, kissing me much like we had so many times before. My legs opened around his hips and cradled his body there over me.
“God, Van,” he breathed. His hard arousal ground against me as he kissed me more.
Another crash brought me back to my senses. “We have to get out of the storm,” I told him again. “It’s not safe by the water.”
“Right,” he replied, finally understanding. He was up, with me in his arms, and sprinting across the sand in a blink.
“Where are you going?” I clung to him. He wouldn’t drop me; I knew that. Truth was, I didn’t want to let go of him. I never wanted to let go.
“The room.”
“I can’t go to your room.”
“You sure as fuck can. There’s nowhere else you belong. With me, Van. With me, always.”
I needed to get away from him, but I couldn’t find the will. Being with Jordan… Well, it had always been everything to me. My night and day. My light and dark. My up and down. We’d always gravitated toward each other. We were human magnets. I couldn’t even be surprised that he’d randomly showed up in Cherish Cove with no idea I was already here. Sometimes, I felt as if I could be anywhere in the world and Jordan would find me.
“No,” I argued without a bit of heat. It was my one, weak, last-ditch effort. We both knew it, too.
“Need me to prove it to you?”
“No.”
Chapter Three
~ Jordan ~
I couldn’t even believe it. Less than an hour after arriving to the teeny, tiny lake town, and here was Savannah was in my arms.
Thank you, Universe.
I should have trusted more in the power of fate. She was my soul mate.
Our first problem had solved itself. Why the fuck she kept running away from me was another damn mystery. Now, I needed to start ticking through the rest of the list of roadblocks.
Savannah was still trying to get away from me—verbally at least, because right then, she was clinging to me as if she’d never let go. That helped my state of mind.
In long strides, I made my way to our suite. I was going to marry this girl, and this damn well would be our honeymoon getaway. First, I needed to plow through all the roadblocks she was throwing up.
Other than “no” she hadn’t presented anything substantial, but I knew there was more. I’d have to navigate them as nimbly and carefully as IEDs in the desert.
“Why?” I asked as soon as we were locked in the hotel room with my back pressed to the door. It was the only way out, and I didn’t plan to move until Savannah recalled she was mine and agreed to stop this shit.
She pushed against me, and I let her down.
“Let me out,” she demanded once she was firmly on her feet and about two yards from my reach.
“Tell me why.”
“Because I told you to.”
My eyes narrowed at her. “Why did you break up with me?”
“Because I did.”
I silently stared at her, waiting. So far, she’d offered me nothing more than a lame excuse.
“I don’t want to get married.”
“Fine. We’ll just live together—and sleep together—for life then.”
She growled, disliking that answer. That told me she did want to be married. She’d been talking about white dresses and heartfelt vows for years.
I spread my hands. “Hey, I’ll take you however I can get you.”
“You can’t have me. You have to find someone else.”
I shook my head. “Not happening.”
She scowled at me. “Damn it, Jordan.”
“What?”
“I’m doing what’s best for you. I left so you could move on.”
“Best for me?” I scoffed. “You’re what’s best for me.”
She took a gasping breath, and her face crumpled. “No…I’m…not,” she managed between full-fledged sobs.
What…?
“Baby,” I whispered, taking a step toward her and pulling her into my arms. She didn’t resist when I thought she might. “What is it? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? Whatever it is, it doesn’t change my feelings for you.” I’d bury a motherfucker, but that was another story. “You’re everything to me.”
“Not—” She shook her head. I couldn’t see her face because she had it buried in my chest. “Not everything.”
Gently, I pulled her head back so I could look into her eyes. Her expression was tortured. Why?
“You are everything. How could you even say that you’re not?”
Her lips pressed together, and even more pain filled her face.
“Baby, please… You’re killing me. Tell me what it is.”
“I’m not your everything. Not everything you want. You want kids. You want a family. I can’t.”
~ Savannah ~
Jordan stared at me, aghast, then his brows drew together. “What?”
“You want a family,” I repeated.
“So do you. Fuck, you started picking out names when we were in high school. I don’t understand.”
No, he wouldn’t because I didn’t tell him. I hadn’t told anyone. It hurt so deep down, and it just made me feel…less. Like I wasn’t enough of a woman. Like there was something wrong with me.
There was something wrong with me, though.
His hand drove through his hair, and his jaw tensed to granite. “Savannah, you better start fucking explaining. Fuck, I thought finding you would be the hard part. You’re making me crazy.”
“Then maybe you should just let me go. Forget about me. Find some other girl to make your family with.”
“And now, you’ve gone and lost your damn mind.”
I contemplated my chances of getting to the door and getting away. I knew this hotel like the back of my hand, now. I could disappear before he caught me. But he knew I was here. He’d find me, eventually. I didn’t doubt he’d tear apart the hotel to get me back.
I needed to woman up.
I had to be a grown-up and explain this to him. It just hurt so much, and it would hurt more to see the disappointment on his face.
Tears still rolled from my eyes, and I swiped them away.
“I’ll tell you, then you need to let me go.”
“No deal.”
“Jordan…” I warned.
“Never. Letting. You. Go.”
“You will,” I promised. I had no doubt. Taking a deep breath, I looked into the face of the man who would always own me, even if we weren’t together. I wanted to memorize him. Before he knew. Before I saw horror or pity or disgust.
“Savannah,” he prompted.
I swallowed and huffed a breath. “Six months ago, I stopped having my period.” His eyes dropped to my stomach. I wanted to yell at him that, of course, I wasn’t pregnant. “At least, it was six months ago that I noticed. They’d been really irregular for a while.”
&nb
sp; “Yeah, I know. You went on the pill to regulate them.”
“Well, they pretty much stopped entirely. Sometimes, there’s a tinge— Gah! This is embarrassing.”
“Nothing is embarrassing between us,” Jordan growled.
I sighed. “Sometimes, I think it might start. Then it doesn’t. I went to the doctor.”
His eyes went wide, and I saw panic. “Do you have cancer or something?” he asked. “We’ll fight it. You need to get treatments. We’ll go home and find the best doctor—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Not cancer. It’s early onset menopause. I… I can’t have kids.”
Jordan swallowed hard, just staring at me.
“So…you know…” I skirted around him and headed for the door. My hand was on the lever when his steely arms closed around me.
“No way in hell, baby. You’re not leaving.”
“But…”
“But nothing. You can’t have kids? Okay. We’ll live with that.”
“I…what?” I didn’t expect this response.
“I love you. I need you. There are hundreds of children who need families. We can still have one. But we can’t have one if there’s no us, if I don’t have you. You are the center of everything. You’re my reason for being, Van.”
I sagged against him. “Oh my God.”
Never in a million years did I expect to hear that from him. Not so emphatically and full of determination.
Jordan turned me and lifted me into his arms. He carried me toward the bedroom, and I suddenly realized two things. One, he had one of the two suites in the resort, and two, he was limping.
“Put me down!” I exclaimed. Was he hurt? What was going on? I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain I hadn’t realized something was wrong with him.
“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not letting you go?”
“Not that! You’re hurt. Let me down.”
He grunted and scowled. “I’m not. Just still recovering.”
“Recovering? Jordan, put me down and I mean it now.” I used the voice I’d hoped to use on my kids one day, and he listened, complying immediately. But he didn’t pause for a moment in dragging me toward the bed.
“Stop!” I cried.