She didn’t move, her face turned to the side away from him.
He shifted, pulling out of her then collapsing beside her, reaching for her and tugging her close. She sighed, turning her head into his chest, her hair falling in silky waves against his skin.
“That was amazing,” she murmured, her breath ghosting warmly over him.
The ache in his chest deepened for no good reason. “Yeah, you could say that. You okay?”
“Oh my God, yes.” She lifted her head, her eyes even brighter than normal, looking at him as if he was some kind of hero. “You’re amazing too, you know that?”
No, you’re not.
Xavier pushed a lock of hair behind one small ear. The bright expression on her face was hard to look at, and he didn’t know what she saw, but he knew it was a lie, whatever it was. “No, sweet thing. I’m not.”
Her forehead creased. “You are. Why would you say you’re not?”
All the breath went out of him. Christ, why had he said that? Because he really didn’t want to talk to her about this. She must have picked up on his reluctance, because her gaze sharpened all of a sudden. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
Her hands pressed on his chest abruptly, pushing him onto his back. “No, it’s not nothing. You got all weird on me when you thought you hurt me a few days ago. And you said it was nothing then too. But obviously, it’s something.”
Tell her. She needs to know what kind of man she’s dealing with.
Xavier made himself look into her night-dark eyes. “You know my Mom died? Well, she killed herself. Sleeping pills and vodka.”
“Oh, Xavier . . .”
A terrible sympathy had entered her expression, and he had to glance away from it. “I was sixteen. A couple of days before it happened, she’d organized this massive Christmas party out at our place in the Hamptons and had invited all the big society families. She hated New York, never felt at home here, but she tried for my Dad’s sake and this party was supposed to be part of it.”
He slid his hands over Mia’s ass, needing to touch her, to fit her more closely against him all of a sudden. But he still couldn’t look at her. “I was a hell-raiser. I wasn’t very good at behaving or obeying rules, and that night I was supposed to be good. I tried. But DS Corp had only just released a new gun and there were some guys my age at the party who wanted to try it out, and I . . . didn’t think.”
It shouldn’t be hard to say, not when it had happened so long ago, and yet it was. “I got the gun out of the safe and set up a shooting range with bottles in the garden. I didn’t think it would be a problem. But there was a girl, the daughter of some major business contact of Dad’s, and she got hit in the leg. It was a big deal, and the ambulance was called, and Mom’s party was ruined.” He closed his eyes, because even now, even after so many years, the memory hurt. “Mom went completely apeshit on me. Told me how important this was to her and that I’d ruined it. And then she went on about how I never think things through and I always end up doing the one thing that hurts her the most. That if I loved her, I wouldn’t do the things I did.”
Mia was quiet, her warm hands resting on his chest like twin sunbeams.
“I told her I was sorry, that I tried, and that the next time I would try harder. But there was no next time.” He turned his head, made himself look at her. “She killed herself a couple of days later.”
That terrible sympathy was in Mia’s eyes and it made him feel worse, but he didn’t glance away. Because it was a kind of punishment to bear it. “It’s not your fault,” she said after a moment. “You know that, don’t you?”
Of course he did. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t make her take those pills or force the vodka on her. But . . .” He stopped.
“But what?”
“If I’d been more careful. If I hadn’t gotten out that gun. If I’d just fucking thought about what I was doing a bit more, then maybe . . .” He stopped again, hating the lost note in his voice. “Whatever, I’m not ‘amazing,’ Mia. I’m just a guy who fucks up a lot, and sometimes the consequences of that are pretty bad.”
She frowned at him, silent for a moment. “So all that you’ve done for me. Giving me a hat, a knife. Giving me food and shelter. A warm bed and a bath. And all of that for nothing. That’s not amazing?”
His chest ached. “Those are just—”
“Those are just what? Not a big deal? Nothing important?” The stars in her eyes glittered. “Well, fuck you, because actually, they’re a pretty big deal to me.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I break things, Mia. I screw things up. I’m careless, I don’t think, I hurt—”
“Do I look hurt to you, Xavier? Do I look broken?” Her hands were almost pushing him, the expression on her face fierce. “No. Because I’m not. I have food and shelter and clothing. Because of you. Because you’re amazing. So don’t try to tell me you’re not.”
He wanted to deny it, wanted to tell her she was wrong, but how could he? When she put it like that? “I don’t know if I deserve that,” he said instead. “I mean, I’ve been trying hard not to screw up, but—”
“No, don’t say that.” She gave him a sharp, piercing look. “I felt for a long time that I deserved what I got, because Gran kept telling me that Mom left because of me. Then you told me that what I deserved was something more. And I believed you.” She took a breath. “But if you don’t believe you deserve anything, then how can I believe that I do?”
A shock went through him. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe not. But these aren’t small things to me. They’re my life. You’re giving me a home, Xavier. You’re giving me everything I ever wanted. And I don’t care what you think, I think that’s amazing right there.”
Jesus. He hadn’t truly thought of how much this would mean to her.
No, but then you never do.
His jaw went tight. “One day, I’ll screw up, Mia. I’ll hurt you. At some point, at some time, I’ll hurt you.”
The look on her face softened. “I’ve survived the streets of New York. I think I can survive one jackass billionaire.”
She didn’t understand, that was clear. She thought she saw something in him, but it wasn’t there. He knew it wasn’t. All those things he’d done for her, he’d done because he’d been curious. Because he’d wanted to play with her, that was all. Not because he was some kind of great guy. And as for the “amazing” part, that was just the sex talking. People said all kinds of shit after sex like that.
He didn’t want to keep arguing with her though, so he let it lie, easing her gently away from him. “Hold that thought. This jackass billionaire has to go deal with the condom.”
Getting out of bed, he headed straight to the bathroom where he tossed the condom in the wastebasket then stood at the vanity, gripping the sides of the basin, something cold sitting in the pit of his stomach.
He didn’t know what the hell was going on with him.
Yeah, you do. Stop denying it.
Xavier let out a long breath, the sound hissing in the silence of the bathroom.
Of course he knew what was wrong. It was Mia. It was her, soft and warm in his bed. Her, touching him, giving him pleasure as if he deserved it. Her, reaching for him, telling him she needed him, that he was amazing.
It was her, reaching into his chest and wrapping her fingers around his heart.
Slowly, Xavier lifted his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He wanted to keep her. He wanted to keep her forever. He wanted to love her.
But he couldn’t, because he didn’t know how. Didn’t how to love someone without hurting them, without breaking them. Hadn’t his mother told him that over and over again?
These aren’t small things to me. They’re my life. You’re giving me a home, Xavier. You’re giving me everything I ever wanted . . .
This meant so very much to her. But no matter what
she said, he’d screw it up. Because he was careless, because he didn’t think. Because he was just a fucking “redneck in a suit.”
Guys like him couldn’t be trusted with women like her. Oh, she’d said she was strong, and of course she was. But this wasn’t about surviving physically. This was about emotional hurt, and he knew—Christ he just fucking knew—how deep those scars could go.
He didn’t want that kind of pain for her. Which mean that all these ideas he had of taking her with him to Wyoming, of having her make her home with him, they were merely wishful thinking.
He couldn’t take her with him. He couldn’t risk it.
Before, it hadn’t mattered to him, because after this mother’s death, he’d made very sure not to care about anything or anyone. But that was before Mia had come into his life. Before she’d started to matter. And she did matter. She mattered so very much.
Then you know what to do, don’t you?
Ice moved through him, freezing everything except for what felt like a knife skewering through the center of his chest, blazing with heat, with pain.
Yeah, he knew. The best home for Mia wasn’t with him in Wyoming. It was here in New York. Away from him. She had her own life to live, her own goals to achieve. A home of her own and a man who’d be able to love her properly, not the clumsy careless love that was all he was capable of.
If he really wanted to keep her safe, he was going to have to let her go.
The pain in his chest blazed a little brighter, but he ignored it. Pushing himself away from the vanity, he left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom, pausing a moment in the doorway.
Mia was lying on her front, her head pillowed on her arms. She must have heard him, because she turned her head a little to see him. She smiled, and the knife in his chest twisted hard.
He would keep his promises to her, that much he’d make sure of.
But that’s all he could give her.
Chapter 11
Mia woke with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach and it took a minute or two of lying there with her eyes shut to figure out what it was. She was warm, but then waking up in Xavier’s apartment always meant she was warm, so it wasn’t just that. It was about more than just the warmth. There was also a jumpy, restless kind of sensation that went along with it, that made her want to throw back the covers and get up and just go do . . . something.
Idiot. You’re happy.
She took a quick breath, cautiously examining the feeling. Really? Was that what it was? Happiness? It had been such a long time since she’d felt anything like it, so she couldn’t be sure. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt it at all. Sure, there had been fleeting moments: that time in school when her teacher had told her she’d done a good job with a drawing; that summer afternoon when her grandmother was talking on the phone, leaving her alone for once, and she’d curled up in that patch of sun on her bedroom floor; finding the spot behind the Dumpster in the alley; discovering the overcoat in the clothing bin at the shelter.
Just little moments. Certainly nothing that had lasted, because nothing ever did.
But this feeling, this moment, was different. Because it wasn’t related to merely being warm and safe and just surviving. It was about something more. It was about going to Wyoming, about being somewhere new. About finally finding the home she’d always dreamed of.
It was about being there with Xavier.
Happy. God, she was happy.
It wasn’t a feeling to be trusted and part of her was wary of it, reminding her that it couldn’t last and she shouldn’t believe it. But she decided she wasn’t going to listen to that part of herself. That was the part who believed every lie her grandmother had told her about herself, so screw it.
She wanted to listen to the part of herself she’d discovered with Xavier, and that part told her to accept the feeling for what it was, embrace it even. Because she deserved it.
She grinned to herself and stretched, enjoying the sensation of her bare skin against the cotton sheets. Then she opened her eyes and rolled over, putting her hand out for the man she knew just had to be lying beside her.
Except he wasn’t.
Mia frowned. He’d kept her up late the night before, reaching for her again and again, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, and she’d let him. It had been exciting. It had made her feel sensual and powerful, and she’d been unable to get enough of it herself.
Which made it irritating that he wasn’t here now.
Sitting up, she scanned the bedroom, but that was empty too.
Maybe he was making breakfast or something. Hopefully he was, since she was starting to get a little hungry.
Slipping out of bed, Mia grabbed his shirt that she’d been wearing the night before and wrapped it around her. The cotton was heavy, the thick, luxurious scent of his aftershave making her shiver in delicious anticipation.
Damn, where had he gone? She’d been hoping for another hour or so in bed.
Puzzled, Mia wandered down the hallway and out into the living area, but he wasn’t there either. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen, but she half turned to go check there anyway, just in case, when she caught sight of something sitting on the coffee table.
She frowned, going over to see what it was.
A pile of clothing. Familiar clothing. Jeans, panties, T-shirt, button-down shirt, overcoat. All neatly folded and stacked in a pile. On top of the pile was a blue beanie and a knife.
Jesus. These were her clothes.
Cold swept over her, washing away the happy feeling that had been glowing warmly in her chest.
Why were her clothes sitting there?
Beside the pile was a piece of paper, neatly folded, her name written across the front.
A bone-deep foreboding made her mouth go dry and all her muscles tense up.
She didn’t want to pick up the piece of paper. She didn’t want to read what was inside, because she had a horrible feeling she already knew what it was going to say.
See? Told you that you couldn’t trust it. Happiness never lasts . . .
No, that was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. Xavier had told her he’d never not want her around, that she had a home with him, and he knew how important that was to her. He wouldn’t just send her away or whatever the hell her stupid brain was telling her. She trusted him.
Mia snatched up the piece of paper, unfolding it with shaking fingers. It was nothing. It was probably a note telling her that he was out getting more food and that he’d be back soon, and then they’d prepare for their trip to Wyoming. That’s all.
But it wasn’t.
Mia, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think your home is with me after all. You have your own life to live, your own goals to achieve, and I can’t make you a part of mine.
Here are your clothes back. You can wear them or throw them in the trash, it’s up to you. This apartment is Dad’s, but everything in it is now yours and I’ve organized for you to stay here as long as you like. Those documents you wanted are ready—a courier will come by with them later today—and I’ve also organized for someone to help you find a place of your own. They should be in touch soon. Don’t worry about the money, that’s all taken care of.
I had an early flight to Wyoming, so I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to say good-bye. Guess I’m not so amazing after all.
All the best—
Mia didn’t bother reading the last part of the sentence. She dropped the paper like it had burned her and took a step back from the coffee table, her legs suddenly unsteady.
The room swam, her vision blurring.
She blinked hard, trying to clear it because it was annoying, but for some reason everything stayed blurry like an out-of-focus photo.
Her throat was hurting and the warm glowing sensation in her stomach was ebbing away, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that hurt, that made her eyes sore.
Okay, so he’d changed his mind. He didn’t want her after all. Sure, that wa
s a bummer, but it wasn’t the end of the world, right? It wasn’t like she couldn’t get to Wyoming herself if she really wanted to and hey, he hadn’t chucked her out on the street with nothing. She could stay here as long as she wanted and all those personal documents were on the way. Looked like she was going to be able to find her own home too, which had been her dream all along.
So why was she hurting? Why did it feel like she’d just been kicked in the chest?
Because your home is with him and you know it.
Something was sliding along the side of her nose and rolling over her cheek, and when she put her hand up to touch it, her fingers came away wet.
Fuck. She was crying.
Fiercely, Mia wiped her eyes, but the more she wiped, the more tears fell. Pain had expanded behind her breastbone, as if the kick to the chest had shattered her ribs and now the broken shards were digging into her, cutting her.
For so long all she’d wanted was a home, something of her own, somewhere she was safe, that no one could take away from her. And she’d always thought home would be an apartment. Or even a house.
She never thought home could be a person.
Mia took a step back, the couch pressing up against the backs of her legs, and she found herself sitting suddenly in it, her hands covering her face, tears leaking through her fingers, her chest feeling like it was on fire.
The sounds of someone sobbing quietly echoed through the room.
Her.
She shut her eyes, heaving in one ragged breath after another, trying to calm the hell down and get herself back together. But it didn’t work. She felt like she’d been given something she’d never known she wanted until it had been taken away from her.
Him. She wanted him. Not the documents, not the clothes, not the warm bed or the food. Or even an apartment of her own. Right in that moment she would have given them all up forever, if only she could have had him.
Because he was her home. And now he was gone.
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