“Listen to the good doctor,” Leanne said. “He would never lead you astray.”
No, he had only turned Sarah’s world inside out by making her believe happy endings were possible. But they weren’t for her. She took another sip of her root beer.
Cullen held a piece of pretzel in front of her face. Mustard covered an end. “Open up.”
The lump in her throat doubled. She looked up at him.
A devilish smile curved his lips. “You know you want it.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. What was he doing? This felt like...flirting.
As he brought the pretzel closer, wicked laughter lit his eyes.
She parted her lips and cautiously bit off the end of the pretzel. The bread, salt and mustard sauce complemented each other perfectly. But she was more interested in the way Cullen looked at her—as though he wanted to taste her.
“How is the pretzel?” Jake asked.
The pretzel. Right. She focused on the men at the far end of the table. “Delicious. Like the root beer.”
But not quite as yummy as Cullen. Her pulse picked up speed, accelerating as if she were tumbling downhill. Which was what she’d be doing if she didn’t stop acting like a lovesick teenager. She looked away to find Zoe, Leanne and Carly staring at her with rapt interest.
Sarah sipped her root beer. She understood their curiosity. Cullen feeding her made them seem like a couple. She had no idea what was going on and wasn’t sure she had the strength to find out. Kissing him had been bad enough. Getting her hopes up and then discovering this was another fantasy would hurt worse than being hit by another steam blast.
No, thank you.
* * *
On the drive home from the brewpub, Sarah closed her eyes. The evening had taken its toll, physically as well as emotionally. If anything, seeing Carly and Jake Porter and Zoe and Sean Hughes together had made Sarah realize how far apart she and Cullen really were. And always had been. She sighed, not a sigh of frustration but of resignation for what would never be.
The truck’s engine stopped. She opened her eyes. The porch light illuminated the path to the cabin’s front door through the darkness. The night was playing tricks on her vision. The distance appeared longer than it really was. Too bad that wasn’t the case with the separation between her and Cullen and their dreams.
“Tired?” Cullen sounded concerned.
Through the shadows in the truck’s cab, she saw his worried gaze upon her. Their situation would be easier to handle if he didn’t act as though he cared what happened to her.
Cullen is so overprotective of you.
Too bad he was the same way with everyone he knew. Strangers, too. “I’m a little tired.”
That gave her a good excuse to go straight to her room. No reason to linger and wish for what might have been or a good-night kiss.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
Sarah climbed out of the truck and hurried to the front door.
Cullen followed at her heels. “Slow down.”
Sarah didn’t. She couldn’t. All the happy couples tonight were an in-her-face reminder. She wasn’t like the women she’d been with tonight. She would never have the perfect kind of wedded and domestic bliss the others had achieved. She could never be a perfect, proper wife. She wasn’t made that way.
He unlocked and opened the door.
Sarah stepped inside ready to retreat to her room, but a hand touched her left shoulder. She nearly jumped.
“Let’s sit for a minute,” Cullen said, so close she could smell him, musky and warm and inviting.
The ache in her stomach increased. “Can’t this wait until morning?”
“No.” He led her to the sofa. “It won’t take long.”
Of course it wouldn’t. Cullen never liked to talk. Sarah remembered all the times she’d needed to talk to him, but he’d retreated and left her more upset. She didn’t want to do the same thing to him. She took a seat.
He sat next to her. “You looked like you were having fun tonight.”
She nodded. “Your friends are very nice.”
“They like you,” he said. “Especially Paulson.”
Sarah blew out a breath. “Bill’s harmless.”
“As harmless as a howitzer tank and about as subtle.”
That made her smile.
“I’m glad you talked me into going,” Cullen said. “Seeing you with everyone tonight. Laughing and joking. It’s like you’ve been a part of the group forever.”
Sarah stiffened. “What do you mean? I’m nothing like your friends. They’re so...domestic.”
“Paulson isn’t.”
“Domestic isn’t the right word.” She backtracked. “What I mean is they’re caretakers. They look out for each other. All for one. I’m more of an...adventurer.”
“Your research will save lives in the future. I don’t know how much more of a caretaker you could be.”
Cullen was wrong. She could never be the kind of wife he wanted. “I’m a loner, not the family type. Nothing like Carly, Zoe and Hannah. Or your mother and sisters...”
“What about my mom and sisters?” he asked.
Oops. Sarah hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “It’s nothing.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“It’s just...” Sarah rubbed her mouth. “Well, it was pretty obvious your family didn’t like me much.”
Cullen flinched as if she’d slapped him. “That’s not true.”
Sarah raised her left shoulder, but she knew her gut instincts were 100 percent correct. She wasn’t proper wife material. “It is. The way your family acted that Easter. I’ve never felt so inadequate in my life.”
He made a face. “Come on.”
The disbelief in his voice set her nerves even more on edge. She hadn’t fitted into his family’s out-of-this world holiday at all. “I wanted to help with dinner. I tried to help. But I only got in their way. They kicked me out of the kitchen and told me to go find you.”
“That’s because they didn’t want to put you to work. You were a guest.”
“A guest.” The word tasted like ash in her mouth. “I was your wife. I thought I was family.”
She’d wanted to be family. More than anything. But that hadn’t happened. She could never be the kind of wife he would want. That was when she’d realized his family would never accept her and Cullen wouldn’t want her.
Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away.
He started to speak, then stopped himself.
Sarah wasn’t surprised he had nothing more to say. She picked at the cast’s padding around her fingers.
Cullen leaned toward her. “I should have told you. Warned you.”
The regret, thick and heavy, in his voice shocked her. “About what?”
His clouded gaze met hers. “Easter. My family. Blaine.”
“What does your twin brother have to do with this?” she asked.
“Everything.”
The one word sent a chill down Sarah’s spine. Cullen’s grief and sadness were as clear as they’d been that afternoon at Red Rocks when he’d mentioned his twin brother who had died. That was the one and only time he’d spoken of Blaine. She’d asked a few questions, but he’d never answered them.
She reached for his hand. His skin felt cold, not warm as usual. “You told me Blaine died when you were in college.”
“He died on Easter.”
Surprise washed over her. Cullen had never told her any details. “On Easter Sunday?”
Cullen nodded. His hand wrapped around hers. Squeezed. “Blaine used to love Easter. He always wanted more decorations and food. There were never enough eggs and candy for him. Because of what happened, my family goes all out on the holiday. Overcompensa
tes.”
She sat back, stunned and angry he hadn’t shared this information with her. Not telling her about breaking his arm as a kid was one thing, but this...
Easter weekend with the Grays had been the tipping point for her to bring up divorce. She’d realized then it was only a matter of time before Cullen checked out of their marriage for good.
“I...” A million thoughts swirled through her mind, but she didn’t know where to begin. “I had no idea.”
Cullen scooted closer. His thigh pressed against hers. Self-preservation urged her to move away from him, but she hated that he was hurting.
His gaze locked on hers. “It’s not just Easter. Putting on over-the-top holidays and birthdays, especially mine, is my family’s way of dealing with grief and the empty place at the table.”
Easter hadn’t been as perfect as she’d imagined—far from it actually. The realization left her off-kilter. With this new information she tried to relate how she’d felt then.
His family sure had put on a good act. She’d never sensed what was going on beneath the surface. She’d been so focused on her own insecurities she hadn’t thought what the holidays would mean to them after losing a son and a brother. But she wasn’t about to give Cullen a free pass over this. “You should have talked to me about this. You realize I don’t even know how Blaine died?”
“My brother was a drug addict.” Cullen’s voice cracked, but his gaze never wavered from hers. “Blaine died of an overdose. I like to think it was accidental, but who knows? I found him unconscious when I went to get him for Easter dinner.”
Horror flooded her. She gripped his hand, ignoring the urge to hold him. “Oh, Cullen. I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” Self-recriminations twisted his lips. “I failed Blaine. Interventions. Rehab. Tough love. I tried everything I could and I still couldn’t save him.”
Her heart ached for him, for all the Grays. “Addiction doesn’t work that way.”
“I know, but when it’s your twin brother...”
“It’s a horrible, impossible situation.” Even knowing that, she couldn’t begin to comprehend what Cullen had gone through, both when his brother was alive and afterward. Still, she wondered what else she might have misunderstood about him and his life. “If I’d known...”
It might have made a difference in their marriage. She could have understood why his family acted the way they had. She could have helped Cullen.
“I didn’t want to burden you.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. “I hadn’t thought about how not knowing might affect you. I should have discussed this with you so you would understand.”
“That would have helped. But I’m glad you told me now.” Sarah waited for him to pull his hand away from hers. He didn’t. Until he did, she would hold tight. She didn’t want to break the connection with him. This was the most open Cullen had been with her, and she feared he would shut down or run away from her again. She didn’t want that to happen. “I’m sorry for not asking about Blaine before and not trying to understand your family’s behavior.”
“We both kept secrets from each other.”
Sarah nodded. She hadn’t told him about her ex-fiancé.
Cullen had hidden his pain the same way she’d hidden hers. She’d protected herself and her heart, never trusting he’d stay in the relationship to fully open up to him. No doubt he’d felt the same way about her by not telling her about Blaine. Regrets grew exponentially until she struggled to breathe.
“We’re quite the pair.” Distrusting and afraid to let anyone in. Their marriage had never stood a chance without that kind of openness—the kind of openness that would have allowed him to tell her the truth about his brother and family. The kind of openness that wouldn’t have blinded her to Cullen’s and his family’s grief. “Holding back didn’t help our marriage.”
“No, but it feels good to let it all out finally.”
Seeing him like this reminded her of when they’d first met. He’d had no problem talking to her in Red Rocks. She’d always wondered how he could have been so open there, but not when they returned to Seattle.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” Sarah tried to sound lighthearted. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.
“There’s nothing left to tell.” His gaze raked over her. “Besides, you’re tired.”
Her chest tightened. She was losing him. He was retreating behind the doctor persona. But she wanted dearly to hang on to the moment. “I’m okay.”
He pulled his hand away.
A deep ache welled within her soul. She missed his warmth. She missed...him.
“Your eyelids look heavy,” he said in that professional tone of his she was beginning to hate. “It’s past time for your medicine.”
Despite herself, she stifled a yawn. Now that he mentioned it, her long day was catching up to her. But she hated to let things end this way. “I can stay up a little while longer. I’m feeling okay.”
His eyes softened, not quite the look a physician gave a patient, but not one a loving husband gave to his wife. Soon to be ex-wife. “The goal is to have you feeling better than okay.”
Once she was better, she could return to Bellingham—except right now going back didn’t appeal to her as much as it once had. Not when she wanted to recapture the closeness they’d just shared.
Every nerve ending screeched.
What was she thinking? Bellingham was where she belonged. She couldn’t allow this moment—this one conversation—to change anything. That would be stupid.
Risking her heart again because he’d opened up for a glimmer of what could have been would only hurt her in the end. Sarah had to stay focused on what was best for her. That was getting back to work—the one thing that wouldn’t let her down.
She stood. “You’re right. I’m more tired than I realized. I’m going to bed.”
* * *
In the kitchen, Cullen washed his hands, then filled a glass with water. He stretched his neck to each side, but couldn’t quite unknot all his tight muscles.
His talk with Sarah hadn’t gone as he’d expected. He’d wanted to know what she thought of his friends and the brewpub. He’d never planned on talking about Blaine. No one outside his family and close friends back home knew the truth, but Cullen had been compelled to tell her. He needed to rectify the mistake he’d made by not saying anything about Blaine before. She’d needed to understand that what had happened at Easter wasn’t her fault.
He tore a paper towel off the roll, then dispensed her medications.
I’ve never felt so inadequate in my life.
The pain in those eight words, the tears gleaming in her eyes, had been like daggers to his heart. Cullen hadn’t wanted her to cry. She’d been hurt enough.
Because of him.
He’d wanted only to appease his family, particularly his mother, after missing the Easter before. Thanksgiving and Christmas, too. He hadn’t considered Sarah’s feelings during that trip home. He hadn’t considered her much at all when they were together.
Expressing too much emotion equaled loss of self-control, especially around Sarah, who had a way of tearing down his walls. But his silence—not talking and warning her how hard Easter was for his family—had set her up for failure.
He couldn’t undo the past, but he wanted to make it up to her somehow. Sarah had difficulty using her laptop and working for more than a few minutes. An idea formed...a way to help her do her job from the cabin. He could take care of that tomorrow.
Cullen walked to her bedroom. He knocked on the closed door, careful not to spill any water. He didn’t want Sarah to slip the next time she exited her room.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
A frisson of worry shot to the surface. He opened the door. “Sarah?�
�
She was lying on her back in the center of the queen-size bed, sound asleep. Her dark hair was spread across the pillowcase. She’d taken off her jacket and removed her boots, but she was still wearing her jeans and red henley shirt.
I’m a little tired.
A little? Try a lot. Their discussion in the living room hadn’t helped matters.
“Sarah.” Cullen placed the water glass and medicine on the nightstand. He gently touched her left arm. “Wake up. You need to take your medicine.”
Her heavy eyelids cracked. “Must I?”
“You must.”
With some effort, she sat. “I thought you were a good doctor.”
“I’m a very good doctor, which is why you have to do this.”
“I was sleeping fine without them.”
“We want you to wake up feeling fine in the morning.”
She blinked. “We? There hasn’t been a we for a while.”
“That’s true.” Cullen regretted contributing so much to that happening. “But we’re here together now, and we both want you to recover.”
Sarah nodded once. She took the pills from him and put them into her mouth.
He handed her the water.
She sipped and swallowed. “Thanks. Now I’m going back to sleep.”
“After you undress.”
Sarah rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. “I’m too tired.”
Sleeping in her clothes would be uncomfortable, but she was an adult. Controlling Sarah never was something he’d wanted to do. Or could do for that matter. He wanted only to control her influence on him. “At least get out of your jeans.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m not sure I can. I still have trouble with the button when I’m wide-awake.”
“Want help?” he offered.
“Please. If you wouldn’t mind.”
Mind? He wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment, but this seemed a light penance for his wrongdoings with her.
His fingers trembled with anticipation and need. He touched the button on her waistband.
Get a grip, Gray.
This had nothing to do with sex. He was supposed to help her. He wanted to help her, if only to make amends for what he’d put her through. But the crazy push-pull of regret versus the physical attraction was giving him whiplash.
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