by Blake, Toni
She blew out a breath, thinking what an astute observation he’d just made. Because truly, it was as if she’d been one person before leukemia, and another after. Nothing had ever gotten back to being the same for her. Somewhat by choice. Staying here had meant selecting a different path than the one she’d been on. But it had changed her in less obvious ways, too—she’d become less ambitious, less assertive, and she’d wrapped herself in a cocoon of sorts here. Maybe...afraid to become a butterfly. Because the cocoon felt safer.
But this reply she kept simpler. “Yes—in some ways for the better and in some probably for the worse. But I try to focus on the better parts. Of pretty much anything.”
Did his eyes turn a little sad then, or just wistful? “Sounds like a wise way of looking at life, Meg darlin’.”
“Why do you seem sad?” she asked. Not even a fishing expedition—just an honest question.
“Do I?” She saw him attempt a grin and fail.
“Yes.”
He blinked, sighed. “Maybe I’m just real sorry you had to go through something so awful. Sad anybody has to go through such bad things. But I’m kinda awed by how strong you are about it all.”
The simple sentiment made her heart expand a little in her chest. Had anyone ever called her that before—strong? Had anyone ever noticed that about her? “Thank you,” she whispered.
And reached up to touch his bare chest with her palm. A smattering of light brown hair trickled to a line that led down his stomach. She took a second to let herself just soak in the masculine beauty of him—and to feel that this really was okay, what she’d done with him. It wasn’t reckless; it wasn’t tawdry. And it came with extra, unexpected gifts. Like being recognized as strong.
“Can I ask you something?” Her voice floated through the mid-evening air, as cautious as his had been asking questions. The faint perfume of lilacs still graced the room.
“What’s that, darlin’?”
“You...never tell me anything about your past.” She bit her lip. “And you don’t have to if you don’t want to, and I don’t mean to pry. But...” She stopped, smiled. “I just spilled my guts to you. Because I feel comfortable with you. So I hope you can be comfortable with me, too. That’s all.”
Seth took his time replying. It was something his father had taught him. Most people answer ya fast, feel they gotta fill that air up with talking. But speak before ya think and it can get ya in trouble. Truth is, people’ll wait for your answer, so ain’t no need to rush it. You just take your time and choose what you mean to say. Slow, well-thought-out answers were a tool of his trade. His old trade. But he’d learned they served him well in life most of the time regardless—it was good to choose your words carefully, and this was a moment when that applied.
“Well, what is it you want to know, darlin’?” He flashed a smile to try to lighten things up. Even if he was the one who’d turned them so serious. He hadn’t meant to—and yet he wasn’t sorry. He liked that she’d shared so much with him. He liked knowing her better, knowing more about where she’d been and what made her tick. And that made her question seem fair, and made him begin to think, wonder...could he tell her? The truth? At least part of it?
“I’ve never really known anyone who...didn’t live anyplace in particular,” she went on. “It intrigues me, I suppose. It makes me think...you must have a story you’re not telling me. And I’m curious. I mean...we just had sex. And maybe this is a leap, but I’m guessing it might happen some more. And we’ve been spending a lot of time together. It’s only natural that I would wonder.”
Yep, all that was true. And he was quick to answer at least one part of her questioning. “I’m sure as hell hoping it’ll happen some more, darlin’.”
She responded with a pretty smile that reached down into his stomach—but left all her other questions hanging in the air, waiting for answers. And the way she made him feel seemed...like something to be damn cautious of, the kind of thing that could probably make a man sell his soul—if he let it.
But at the same time, she was so guileless that it left him feeling rubbed raw in a way, like she was peeling off layers he used to protect himself and getting down to where there wasn’t much of that left. All with her honesty, all with her trust.
And maybe he didn’t want to be trusted. Not that way. So many people had trusted him before, and almost every one of them had lived to regret it. He’d seldom been there to see it—he’d already moved on. And he’d long since learned to put up a wall that wouldn’t let him think about the damage left in his stormy path—but behind that wall it all still lurked, waited, for him to feel it someday. He didn’t want to make Meg regret her trust. And he was pretty sure he would before this was all over.
And so he had no earthly idea what he was thinking when he said, “My mom died when I was just a kid, and after that I was raised by my dad. Down south. In Mississippi, like I told you. And...a lot of other places.”
“Oh Seth, I’m sorry.” He could hear that sympathy in her voice, sympathy he wanted to avoid. Because it had been a long damn time ago and he’d gotten over the loss a long damn time ago—because he’d had to. He could hear her...caring. About him. Which was why it was a bad idea to go down this road. For her sake. “How old were you? When she died?”
“Ten.”
She gasped. The way women will do over tragedy. Such soft hearts. Don’t be soft for me, Meg. Be strong. Like you were with leukemia.
“How?” Not “how did it happen?” but just the one simple word.
“Car accident. She was hit by a drunk driver on her way to work.”
That part she didn’t reply to—not with words anyway so much as her eyes. It relayed a certain understanding. That she wasn’t the only one who’d suffered; that he, too, knew what it was to have life pull the rug out from under you.
At last, she spoke quietly. “I’m guessing that changed pretty much everything about your life.”
“More than you know.” Shit, shut up. That’s what happens when you answer too fast—words come out that you didn’t intend to say.
“How do you mean?”
Stop. Think. Choose your words. It just came harder right now than usual because he never told anyone this stuff. Usually it was just about charming them. Being strategic. Getting whatever he wanted from them. This felt different.
He drew in a breath, slowly let it back out before answering. “I never saw my grandparents again—my mom’s parents. We’d lived with them, her and me. And I know Dad moved me a long way south, but...well, it was weird that they weren’t around after that. Never even a phone call or a birthday card—nothing.”
Under the covers, she squeezed his hand in hers. “You must have missed them terribly.”
Why was that hard to admit? Even to let himself feel? But he did, because it was true. “Yeah.”
“And you don’t know why? Other than the distance?”
He swallowed back a small lump in his throat. Damn. Then pushed aside memories that tightened his chest in order to reply. “Not really. When I would ask my dad, he’d say it was just him and me now, so I guess he was trying to...you know, deflect the question, protect me. I imagine it was too far to travel. For them. Or for him to take me.” He shook his head. “But it was a long time ago and life goes on, Meg darlin’.” He reached for a smile, pulled one up. The effort was slight, natural, the way he moved through life.
“Like my leukemia,” she said knowingly.
“Exactly.” They’d both walked hard roads, they’d both survived—and now they could talk about other, better things.
“So your dad moved you around a lot. Was that for work?”
So much for better things. And despite himself, the question drew out a quick laugh. “In a manner of speaking,” he told her. Again answering too damn soon. Saying leading things that would make her ask more. Hell.
“What
did he do?”
At this, Seth stopped, stopped everything—stopped talking, stopped thinking about the best way to reply. He just looked at her, looked into her eyes and really saw her. This kind, strong, vulnerable woman. He’d always thought it was a bad trait, vulnerability—but she made it look good. Made him want to be like her. So damn open. Cautious in some ways, but ultimately brave enough to trust him to work in her home—when she shouldn’t have, when he had an ulterior motive.
Maybe he should see her like any other mark, not as a person but as a means to an end—and maybe he should view her trust as weak or dumb. But instead there was something kind of beautiful about it. Something that made him think she was amazing—to trust, to still believe in the good in people, after what her fiancé had done to her when she was young. He only wished she’d picked someone else to believe in, someone worthy.
And hell. That was when something broke inside him, some kind of dam that held in all the secrets—because he just wanted to let it all out, be honest with her. At least as honest as he could be.
“Meg darlin’, my father was a con man. And before I knew it, he’d made me into one, too.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MEG’S HEART FROZE in her chest. She tried not to let the shock and horror show on her face. She was in bed with him, after all. And despite certain concerns, she’d seen so much good in him. But what he’d just said raised more questions than she could fathom.
He went on, saving her from having to reply. “Not anymore, though. I’ve left that life behind. Left him behind, altogether.”
Now she managed some words. Just a few. “Left him behind how?”
“Just packed my bags one day when he wasn’t around, got in the car, and started driving. North. Didn’t look back. We were in Alabama at the time. Threw my cell phone out the window somewhere on I-65 so he couldn’t even try to reach me. Kinda dramatic, I guess—but it seemed like the simplest way to just cut all ties, just like that, ya know? That was six months ago.”
“Six months,” she murmured. Wishing it had been, say, six years. Six months wasn’t long. Six months was yesterday.
Her head still whirled at this unexpected turn of events. Though...was it totally unexpected? Hadn’t she known there was something not entirely aboveboard about him? She’d tried to believe the best about him, tried to let Suzanne’s encouragement make her think wariness was silly, tried to remember she was always safe here on the island—but now some cold hard truths hit home. Drifters didn’t drift because their lives were amazing and stable. The world was filled with people ready to scheme and trick and take advantage of trusting, innocent people. Zack’s concern had been valid. Zack, Zack, Zack. Always in the back of her head, even now—such a fixture in her heart. And so far from perfect—yet not a con man, not a drifter, not someone who would ever hurt anyone in the way Seth was telling her his father had hurt people. And maybe he had, too. It was all so nebulous and sketchy at this point.
She would be wise to ask him to leave. Right now. No more tiptoeing into the unknown here. It was dangerous.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” he said quietly. “You’re worried now.”
She wasn’t sure how to reply. She only knew her chest had gone tight, her whole body more tense than a minute before. “Should I be?” she whispered.
“No.” Spoken quickly and low. “I’m sorry. So sorry, darlin’. I’d never want to scare you or make you worry. But you asked, and so I’m just being honest with you. Because I want to do that. Be honest.”
“Because you aren’t usually honest with people?” she dared ask.
He pinned her in place with his eyes, trapping her in that warm, warm gaze of his. Even now, something in it buried her, owned her a little. “I am now. I have been for the past six months.” He looked so intense; she could feel him wanting so badly for her to believe him...and she did. At least in this moment.
“I spent the winter picking up odd jobs through Tennessee and Georgia,” Seth told her, thinking maybe it would help to keep talking, help make her understand, “but when the weather broke, guess I found myself wanting to keep heading north.”
“To find your grandparents,” she said. Stated, not asked.
“No,” he told her. But ironic as hell she thought that, since he’d unwittingly found them anyway—on her bulletin board. “Just...to get farther away.”
Turned out distance had been as necessary as time to make him feel fully separated from his father. Like the man would somehow be able to track him down, drag him back to the life he’d always known. Both were impossible, and yet some ties were hard to break, even when you knew it was best. Or hell, maybe it was just his past in general he needed to get further away from, however he could.
“Seems like you’d go to your grandparents,” she said. Sounding thoughtful now. Calmer. More like the compassionate woman he’d come to know.
But he shook his head. He’d gone down a reckless road here, but he couldn’t see any other way than to just keep being real with her now that they’d come this far. “No idea if they’d be happy to see me, or vice versa, all things considered.”
“I’m sure they would. I mean, if your father is the kind of guy you say, it makes sense that he would connive to keep you away from them.”
“Maybe—never could be certain. But...not sure I’d be proud to let them see how I’ve turned out.” Hell. Something else to scare her. It was as if opening this door had taken away every ounce of sense he had. Choose your words carefully and you know when to shut up. Don’t—and this happens.
“How did you turn out, Seth? I mean...what kind of things have you done?”
Asked warily, but a fair enough question. One he had to figure out how to answer now. Still wanting to be honest, but also make her see that he’d changed. Mostly anyway. Some people thought a person couldn’t really change. And he thought he had. Or he was trying like hell to. And...shit, he still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt this woman, still knew he couldn’t tell her the entire truth about why he was here—and yet he wanted to earn her respect, her faith in him, more than he could understand. It was the epitome of being stuck between a rock and a hard place, torn between good and bad, right and wrong.
“You know how sometimes on the news you see stories about workers who ask for payment up front to do roofing or plumbing or home repairs, and then they disappear with people’s money?”
Next to him, she nodded.
“That was us. What my dad’s always been, and what he taught me to be. We lived mostly in motels, moving from town to town before anybody could figure out what was up. We’d get enough money to take it easy awhile—then it would run out and we’d be on to the next scam. Sometimes we’d lift a credit card here or there, a wallet from a restaurant table, but mostly we started work we didn’t finish even though we’d already been paid for it.
“I’m not proud of it, darlin’—not any of it. Damn ashamed actually.” He shook his head against the pillow. “Not even sure why I’m telling you. Never planned to tell anybody, ever. Just planned to do better, walk the straight and narrow, make an honest living—learn how to do that. That’s why I’m here, working for you. Just trying to live right.”
“And are you? Living right? I mean, have you been honest with me?”
“I’ve been doing honest work, haven’t I? Haven’t asked you for anything I haven’t earned. And would I tell you all this if I was up to no good? Though I guess...damn, I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want anything more to do with me, if you send me packing.”
“You’re telling me the truth here?” she asked, still clearly needing that confirmation, still appropriately wary of a guy who’d just admitted he’d spent his whole life being a crook.
“Every word I’ve said is the truth, darlin’.” Even if he hadn’t told her everything. And the part he couldn’t tell her she really didn’t need to know. It
would never affect her.
And hell—the way things were going, he wasn’t gonna find what he’d come looking for anyway. Which was discouraging, but...maybe he’d been meant to come here for other reasons. Life worked in funny ways sometimes, and he’d be damn sorry if he never found the book he’d been searching for, but he’d found Meg instead. A woman who made him feel something brand new: A desire for her respect.
Even so, though, he had to make the offer to go. Because he wanted to earn her respect, not try to force it. “If you want me to leave, darlin’, just say the word.”
“Why did you tell me all this?”
He thought through that. “You asked. You asked me to open up to you the same way you did with me. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Or maybe I should have made up a lie, something that sounded better and would make you comfortable. But I’m trying my damnedest to be out of the lying business these days, so... I just answered your questions, for better or worse.”
He peered up at the ceiling of the dimly lit room, thinking of the evening just past. Lilac water. Sex with a good woman. Sweet scents in the air. Even now, a partly open window across the room admitted a breeze that lifted the curtains and smelled like spring. A good night by anyone’s standards, and maybe one of the best of his life, coming in only behind fond childhood memories that grew dimmer with each passing year. And now he’d dropped something ugly onto it, changed it into something less than it had been.
“I’m sorry if I ruined the evening, Meg darlin’. You just made me want to be real with you. And that’s a compliment, by the way.”
She stayed silent for a long moment. He let that silence fill the space around them, let himself get comfortable with it. He usually was. Waiting to hear Meg’s next words, though, made it harder than usual.
“I...don’t think I want you to go,” she finally said. “At least not right now.” Voice soft as that spring breeze, more delicate than normal and maybe a little unsure. But still an answer that left him feeling...bolstered, like all was not lost here, like maybe it would all be okay.