by Malcom, Anne
Until now.
He was saying hi to me. For the first time ever. After he’d saved my son. After he’d pulled me out of a burning building. After he’d been inside me. After he’d made me fall in love with him.
After he left me, when he came back, the first word he had for me was ‘hi.’
Rage curled at the bottom of my stomach, coaxing itself upward. I was so freaking tempted to let it out. To scream at him for saying such a bland and mundane thing to me after he’d tortured me first with his presence, then with his absence.
I clutched my purse so hard I bet I scratched the fake leather. What I didn’t do was lose my temper and blast all the ugly things at Lance that baser parts of me wanted to. Because that wasn’t me. People hurt me, I didn’t make it my mission to hurt them back. Maybe that made me a pushover. Whatever. I couldn’t hold onto anger for things other people did to me. That just meant they got to hurt me twice.
“Hi,” I replied, no way I was going to be able to make my voice sound happy, but I was going for neutral.
My eyes ran over his body without my control. He looked good. Obviously. He was Lance, in all forms I’d seen him, he always looked good. His crisp white tee was without a wrinkle or sweat stain, despite the temperature in the middle of the afternoon was climbing toward the hundreds.
And he was wearing frickin’ jeans. I was in my clothes from work and was roasting from standing outside for less than five minutes. I would have been a sweaty, disgusting mess if it weren’t for the fact that my car was cool and comfortable with functioning air conditioning.
Another thing to be mad at him about, the fact I couldn’t feel the cooling blast of air on my face without thinking of him.
In addition to not being sweaty, like at all, he seemed bigger. His biceps were straining the hems of the tee, muscles of his arms seeming sharper, more defined. And they had been plenty defined before.
It was his face that held the biggest change. His previous sharp, clean-shaven jaw was covered in a trimmed, short, dark beard. It made him look wild. It made him look sexy as all hell. Especially when paired with his dark shades and the fact his hair had grown out a little so it curved around his neck.
I itched to run my hands through it. To feel what it would be like to kiss him with that beard. But I didn’t have the right to do that. To touch him. Kiss him. He made that clear.
His shades had run over me in much the same way. With a hunger that was visible, even with the sunglasses covering his eyes. It was etched in his body. In his tight stance. The way his hands were fisted at his sides.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he liked what he saw or because he didn’t. I wasn’t exactly at my best. I’d been working all day. I hadn’t slept well the night before because I hadn’t been sleeping well for the past month. I knew there were dark circles under my eyes but they were nowhere near as bad as they were when I first woke up because Rosie had stocked not only my closet, but my makeup drawer too. With all sorts of magical, beautiful and luxurious products. But the concealer was epic. It made me look halfway normal, like I wasn’t falling apart.
But I was.
It was a sad thing, that it was mostly because of Lance. I’d managed to take pretty good care of myself even in the midst of the worst with Robert, especially after I’d left him.
But Lance took something too big with him. Left a huge hole that I couldn’t eat around, swallowing hurt too much, so I’d dropped weight. A worrying amount, I knew. Enough for Karen and Eliza to constantly invite me for dinner and do their level best to shove food down my throat.
The same thing happened at work, Bobby changed the specials especially so they were all my favorites.
I wanted to eat, I didn’t want my clothes to hang off me, I didn’t want my friends and family to be worried about me, I didn’t want my physical health to be impacted by an emotional sickness, mostly I didn’t want Nathan to see this. To his credit, he hadn’t noticed. Because he was a kid, and because he was working through his own hole that Lance had left.
So the work uniform I was wearing was no longer snug on the thighs or ass. Even the chest area of my top was loose.
My hair was thankfully healthier than it had ever been, thanks to more of Rosie’s products that made it impossibly shiny, even piled up in a bun on top of my head that I had no idea what it looked like because I’d done it in the car on the way home, securing it with one of Nathan’s pencils as my hair tie broke.
My face, despite how gaunt it looked, actually looked good. Rosie, Lucy, and Polly had all been regular visitors the past month. Lucy bought all sorts of skincare that ‘didn’t work for her,’ Rosie came with wine so we could do face masks, Polly came out either with the kids or alone and we did yoga in the back yard that was slowly becoming my favorite place to be. Mostly because Polly always brought plants with her. I even splurged on some, since the rent Keltan was charging was significantly less than the last place, which I knew wasn’t right but it seemed like I’d won some kind of battle to let me pay the rent at all. I was determined to make it feel like home, considering what little progress had been achieved on our old place. So my weekends, days off and afternoons had been spent outside, my skin deepening even more in color because of this.
That combined with the awesome skincare and new makeup I had on made me look good. Not happy, no makeup was that good.
I wasn’t sure if the hunger painted on Lance’s bearded face was due to my current appearance. It was more than that.
Something was between us. That couldn’t be ignored. The heat in the air that would top any kind of heatwave California could have. The way my body erupted in goosebumps despite that heat. The need that started between my legs and spread throughout every limb.
It was physical, yeah sure. I knew that the sex we had wasn’t normal. Wasn’t sex that many people got to experience. There was an attraction there. Beyond attraction. But there was something else. The something else that made it impossible to forget Lance in the months he’d been gone, and it would be impossible to for the foreseeable future, regardless of why he was here.
“You sent Nathan away,” he said after we’d stared at each other long enough to make it uncomfortable. No way was I going to speak first. He was here, for a purpose, I assumed, it was up to him to lead the conversation.
I nodded, moving my purse on my shoulder. “I didn’t want to confuse him.”
Lance’s body tightened even further.
“Thinking you’re back only for you to leave,” I continued. “I’m not letting him go through again. I can’t watch him go through that.”
I can’t go through that, was what I left unsaid. Because I was going to go through it whether I thought I could handle it or not.
Lance flinched at my words.
Actually flinched. Like I’d struck him physically. Me alluding the pain my son went through these past months was a blow to him.
I hated that simple flinch made me immediately soften toward him. Because what I hadn’t seen, what I had missed when I was cataloging his new muscles, lack of sweat and sexy beard was a sadness. Lance had carried around a sadness before. Cloaked in his empty glares, his brooding silences. It was something I could feel, something I’d itched to explore the closer we got.
But there was more now. It was a hurt. It was much closer to the surface. An exposed nerve. I had an instant urge to protect him. To soothe that sadness. Because this was a man much more vulnerable than he seemed.
“He won’t have to,” he whispered. Yes, whispered. Gently. Barely audible, like he didn’t have the power to speak louder.
Yeah, way more vulnerable than he seemed.
“You won’t have to,” he said, louder this time. Stronger.
My body reacted to that. What sounded like a promise. An oath. I didn’t trust promises. I couldn’t. Every promise ever made to me had been broken. I didn’t know what a kept promise sounded like. But this sure seemed like what it was meant to feel like.
“I’m n
ot gonna leave again,” he continued when it became clear I wasn’t going to say anything. I was far too busy trying to keep my shit together. He swallowed visibly and some of that vulnerability I’d been thinking about flickered on his face. “If you don’t send me away, that is.”
I should. That was the smart decision.
The safe one.
Greenstone Security would eventually be completely out of my life in the professional sense. The case was pending and it looked like Robert was going to be spending a long time in prison. As it was, I hadn’t heard a peep from him since I’d laid him out in that phone call. To be fair, Rosie had been with me when I filed a restraining order. I presumed he’d been served with it, but I didn’t know.
I should have felt peace with that silence, but it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt like the sky’s inhale before a storm, when everything was still, quiet. A quiet so loud you braced for the destruction it would bring.
I was trying to shake off that feeling, that I was in the eye of a tornado, but here was Lance, a man that was a storm himself. A hurricane.
A normal woman stepped away from a storm. A sane one wouldn’t walk right back into one.
But I stayed right where I was, still not speaking, but that was answer enough for Lance.
His shoulders sagged, slightly, as if a tiny weight had been lifted from the pile he’d been carrying. It was then he pushed his shades to the top of his head. When his eyes met mine, it was a punch in the throat. In the heart. Everything hurt and everything healed with that look. There was a nakedness to it. An agony. An honesty.
“I wasn’t going to come back,” he said. “I promised myself I wouldn’t. Because it was the best thing for you and Nathan.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for my son and me without consulting me. That’s how a relationship works.” I paused. “If that’s what we had.”
Lance’s jaw went hard. “It’s not what we had.”
Pain speared through my chest.
He moved forward, slightly, moving his hand to lightly trail down my bare arm. “It’s what we have,” another whisper. “It’s what I need from you. I can’t live the life I did before knowing what I left behind. What I did to you. And Nathan. I was certain I didn’t deserve that, even now I know I don’t deserve either of you, but I need you.”
The words hit all the right marks. All slotting into the places I’d left open in my fantasies of this very moment. I wanted to lean into that touch that lifted huge weights that I’d been carrying.
But then I thought of the little boy stomping his foot with a wobbling lip. And I hesitated. I knew that Lance was sincere. Whether that was naïve or not, I knew that he didn’t plan on leaving. That he wanted to give this, us, a go. But I didn’t know his history. The truth behind his pain. I didn’t know how far that would reach, if it wouldn’t stop taunting him, enough to make him leave again.
Because he was Lance, he saw my hesitation. He felt it. So he removed his hand from my arm. The loss of his touch was painful. I breathed through it. I’d have to be able to breathe through the loss of him.
Inhaling, exhaling. It’s simple. You can do it. Anyone can do it, regardless of pain. You’ve done it through childbirth, through broken ribs, through moments in your life so horrible that you don’t let yourself remember them.
My chest rose and fell.
Lance watched me breathe like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Like he could watch it all day. Like he was committing it to memory in preparation for my rejection.
“It’s really hot out here,” I said instead of telling him to leave so I could protect my son’s fragile heart. So I could try and stop my own from shattering further.
He blinked, obviously expecting me to tell him something different than to point out the sweltering obvious.
“Inside is cooler,” I remarked, rifling through my purse for my keys. “And we have grape Kool-Aid in the fridge. I know it sounds lame, but it’s actually heaven on a day like this and we don’t have beer or anything because Nathan drank it all.” I looked up when there was only familiar silence coming from Lance. His face was blank. “Joking,” I added. “He prefers tequila.”
The corner of Lance’s mouth twerked slightly and warmth spread through my insides. I retrieved my keys and Lance stepped aside in order for me to unlock the door. It occurred to me that he could have done so if he wanted, this used to be where he stayed, first alone and then with me. He didn’t let himself in because maybe he didn’t expect to be let in at all.
The doorstep was not large. Lance was not small. His scent compounded my senses, and even more of those weights I’d been carrying toppled off. My body loosened with that familiar scent which had been the reason I hadn’t washed my sheets for three weeks.
His body brushed up against mine that made me take two tries to get the key in the lock. My own body’s muscle memory kicked in and everything in my brain and mostly my uterus urged me to forget everything but the fact he hadn’t been inside me for almost two months.
I managed not to jump him as we walked into the house.
Barely.
Turning around and seeing the look on his face told me he was having similar thoughts. I clenched my inner thighs against the pure desire on the face of a man who wasn’t pure at all.
We stared at each other for a long time.
He broke that stare about two seconds before I crossed the distance between us and kissed him.
Probably a good thing, I told myself as he looked around the living room.
A lot had changed.
I had been determined to keep myself as busy as possible. And considering my version of normal was busy, I had had exactly no time alone with my thoughts. Which was the point. When I wasn’t in the garden, working, throwing footballs with Nathan, hanging with the girls, I was combing antique stores, garage sales and online sale sites. I’d managed to get an old coffee table, side table, entertainment unit, rugs. I’d sanded them down, painted them white, going for a French Country meets boho chic, with colorful throws, candles, paintings a lot of which I’d found with my bargain hunting skills, the rest gifted from everyone who’d rallied around since the fire.
I wasn’t sure what Lance thought about my mish-mash of decorating styles, because he didn’t look at it.
He started speaking.
Not about the decorating style.
Not asking about the Kool-Aid I promised.
But about something else entirely.
Something that changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It was Christmas Eve,” he said, the first time either of us had spoken since we entered the house.
I thought the long, tense silence was Lance’s way of telling me that he wasn’t talking anymore. That I had to lead it. Maybe it was just him, the strongest man I knew, finding the strength to start talking.
I never thought of that, that silent sentinel types might not be mean or scary, just unable to find the strength to tell their story.
Or maybe waiting for the right person to tell it to.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
I didn’t get time to ponder this because Lance was far from done, and I was hanging on his every word.
“Though it’s hard to believe now, I had a normal life,” he said. His voice was flat. Cold. Which meant it was his way of protecting himself against what was to come.
He laughed. I struggled not to flinch, because I knew he was affected by that. But it was hard.
That laugh.
It was cold. Ugly.
“Whatever normal is,” he continued. “But in society’s view of it all, I landed pretty square in the middle. I married my childhood sweetheart straight out of college, bought a house we couldn’t really afford and got a job that I despised. Grilled out on the weekends. Had beers with the other husbands now and again.”
He paused, as if he sensed I needed time to wrap my head around all of this. That he had been married.
Had a wife. There was not enough time in the world to wrap my head around it. Mostly because I knew this story was going someplace really frickin’ ugly.
It had to be.
Because the man that Lance was describing was nowhere to be seen. Not an ounce of him.
Whatever he was about to tell me was going to be bad. Bad enough that it ripped through this life he was describing without mercy, without stopping until nothing was left.
“I’m not sure if I loved her,” he said. “I cared about her a great deal. She made me laugh. She was kind. We had history. Were comfortable with each other. I don’t know if that all adds up to love. Marriage just seemed the logical step after we both finished college and we were still together. So we got married.”
He didn’t pace. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink as he spoke this to me. He was just recounting it, standing in the middle of the living room, as still and cold as a statue.
But his chest was moving erratically.
He was having trouble breathing.
Through the pain.
I wanted to help him. So desperately. But you couldn’t help someone breathe.
“We were happy,” Lance said, voice still disturbingly cold. “In whatever way people can be happy when they’re not living a life that they really want. She got pregnant.”
Pregnant.
I started shaking before he got any further.
Because I knew. Right then I knew. Looks I couldn’t quite understand directed at Nathan. The way he was with him. The pain in his eyes when Nathan held his hand, called him Captain.
It made sense.
I didn’t want to hear any more.
As a mother, I couldn’t.
But I had to.
Lance had been watching me, waiting for me to breathe. He spoke when my chest started moving more evenly.
“We both wanted kids, even though I knew I shouldn’t bring them into a life that didn’t feel quite permanent. Quite full enough.” His stare burned into mine. He was filling that hole up. With his pain.