by Amy Olle
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it.”
“My God, Isobel, it’s like you don’t know anything about me.”
She didn’t deny it and the truth pressed down on him.
She didn’t know him. Because he hadn’t allowed her to.
All his life, he’d tried to control things. People. His brothers, his kids, and most especially his wife. He’d wanted to protect her, and he thought that to do so meant he needed to keep her at a distance. He’d only let her get so close, giving her as much as he wanted and holding back everything else.
It was past time he stopped trying to control her thoughts and feelings.
An old anguish filled his heart when he said, “Do you know why I left you?”
With a quick intake of breath, she froze to the spot.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it didn’t have all that much to do with you.” His gaze dropped to the floorboards. “I needed some time.”
“Time away from me?”
At the hitch of vulnerability in her voice, he squeezed his eyes shut with the slash of pain. “That’s what I thought. At the time.” He forced his gaze back to her face. “But I was wrong.”
She lowered the coffee cup back down on the table.
“In reality, I needed you. I needed to be with you, and the kids. If I’d been stronger, I would’ve realized it then.” Sand filled his mouth and he swallowed with difficulty. “I thought you deserved better than me, and that if I went away, I might be able to make myself into the man you deserved. Stronger. Saner. Sober.”
“Sober?” She came around the table. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”
He drove a hand through his hair while he wrestled with the words that could explain. “When I picked law, I was being naïve.”
“Idealistic.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s absolutely not the same thing,” she snapped. “You wanted to help kids like you and your brothers. Kids who had no one else. That’s not naïve, Shea. It’s incredible, actually.”
His heart wanted to smile, but the painful memories darkened the lightness. “I thought I’d be a hero. That’s why I picked that law firm over all the others, because they had a reputation for taking on the kinds of cases I wanted to argue.”
She crept closer.
“But the reality of it was… different. Difficult.” A shallow breath shuddered through him. “The work ate at me. For years, it took everything, and by the time I’d get home at night, I had nothing left in me to give you or Finn.”
When she touched his face, he didn’t flinch, but only because his body was coiled so tightly.
“The last case I worked was the hardest. The abuse done to those kids…” Images flooded his mind and his stomach roiled. “It was the worst I’d ever seen. I started drinking too much. I couldn’t concentrate.”
He took a step back, and another, as though he might be able to outpace the truth. Instead, he came up hard against the wall. “I made a mistake. A procedural error.” His voice barely reached a whisper. “The sick bastard got off on a technicality.”
A wave of nausea crashed into him with the shame and his knees buckled. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you what I’d done.”
She rushed to his side. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It feels like I did.”
“It won’t always.” Her fingers closed over his and he turned his palm over to grasp her hand. “I’ll help you.”
The seconds melted away while he stared down at their clasped hands. His large and work-roughened. Hers small and elegant.
“You were so distant,” she said quietly. “I thought maybe… you’d found someone else.”
Without lifting his head, his eyes captured hers. “Since I found you in the park, all I wanted to do was protect you. I knew you were struggling. I could see it, but I had no idea what to do. So I stopped telling you things that I thought would upset you. I hid a lot from you, but not that. Never that.”
“I should’ve asked you.” A deep frown puckered her brow. “Instead, I let Amber Jessop get to me.”
“I should’ve talked to you before I quit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
She conducted an intense study of their clasped hands. “Maybe I had something to do with that.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I realized I was pregnant again, I...” Her throat worked with her heavy swallow. “I don’t know. Maybe I closed myself off, not just from you, but from everyone. If you had tried to talk to me, I doubt I would’ve made it easy for you.”
“When you told me about the baby…” He squeezed her hand tight. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. It’s not that I didn’t want another baby, because I did. But not if it meant I had to watch you suffer. I couldn’t lose you.”
Her eyes glittered. “I cried when I found out. Then I cried some more because I knew I was the worst person in the world.”
Lifting her fingers to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to her warm skin.
She shifted to stand beside him, her back against the wall, and laid her head on his shoulder.
He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you at our wedding. Or smash cake in your face.”
Her throaty laugh floated up to him. “I’m not sorry about that. No, really, I’m not. I wouldn’t have wanted a big wedding, not right then, when I’d just lost my mom. It was more special with only the two of us.”
“Technically the three of us.”
“The three of us.” The soft wonder in her voice eased the gnawing ache that’d been tormenting him for years.
Just as an easy silence descended, her head popped up off his shoulder and she looked up at him with huge round eyes. “You haven’t told me why you were late today.”
A curse slipped from him with the renewed shock. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“At the beginning.”
He dragged a hand over his face. “Okay, let’s see. Well, it’s about Aiden.”
“Your bartender?”
He nodded, then forced out the words. “He says he’s Daniel Nolan’s son.”
“What?” Eyes huge in her small face, she gaped at him. “But… when? How?”
“Uh…”
“I mean, who is his mother?”
“I don’t know. He’s five months younger than Leo.”
A small gasp slipped through her lips. “That means…”
“My dad was cheating on my mom.” Bitter resentment twisted Shea’s gut. “I always thought losing her was what changed him, but I guess he was an asshole all along.”
“Is there a chance he’s wrong. Maybe he’s lying.”
“Why would he lie?” Then, because his mind had already traveled that road, added, “There’s no inheritance to speak of. No money, no land. Not even a family legacy or reputation to try to stake a claim to.”
She tortured her bottom lip. “Maybe his mom is wrong about his paternity?”
“Maybe.” He studied her face closely. “But you believe him, don’t you?”
She winced. “Honestly, he looks a little like your dad. Like all of you. Around the eyes and here.” With the tip of one finger, she brushed the length of his straight nose.
He let his head fall back to rest against the wall. “I see it, too.” Now that it was right there in front of him.
“What do we do?” she asked softly.
“I want to make sure he is who he says he is, but beyond that, there’s not much else we can do.”
“That’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?” A hint of humor infected her tone.
“You have no idea.” His deep chuckle vibrated in his chest.
She returned her head on his shoulder, and the tender touch sent warmth spreading outward from his center to the farthest reaches of his limbs.
“You have another brother,” she said, her quiet words filled with wonder.<
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He rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “It would seem so.”
“Are you going to tell your brothers?”
“Of course.”
“When?”
“First thing in the morning, before we meet with the photographer.”
“Do you want me there with you?”
“I’d like that.” Emotion roughened his voice.
Whatever was happening between them didn’t feel like a game anymore and hadn’t for some time.
Nonetheless, in the space between their heartbeats, the faint drum of victory echoed.
Isobel flopped into bed. Exhaustion dragged at her, but not the empty, overwhelmed tiredness she’d grown accustomed to.
After making dinner, all five of them ate together for approximately ten whole minutes before Connor had a potty emergency and Finn dashed out the door to meet up with some friends. The chaos of bath and bedtime followed, but rather than depleting her, she came away from Maisie’s bedroom feeling revitalized.
The house fell quiet, and she and Shea retreated to their bedroom together. For the first time since he’d returned home, none of the doubt hassled her. Instead, she lay on her back on the bed and stared up at the vaulted ceiling while her eyelids grew heavy.
In the adjoining bathroom, the sound of running water from Shea’s shower lulled her and sleep beckoned. An arrow of surprise poked through the drowsiness at how easily she’d accepted his presence in the house. How familiar it felt for him to be home. Ordinary, but also completely different.
Normal, but odd. Exhausted, but energized.
In the bathroom the water stopped, and a few minutes later, Shea emerged, nude and wet from his shower. Somehow, in his nakedness, he seemed even more powerful than he did with his clothes on. Large and muscular, his taut strength and brutal gracefulness seized her gaze.
His body responded to her notice.
Rolling to her side, she openly watched him. “It’s still weird, having you here.”
He moved to the edge of the bed and slowly lowered his body to the mattress. A dark look shadowed his features as he gazed down at her.
“I wish I’d been strong enough to stay.” He bowed his head, as if in supplication. “Of all the regrets I have, that’s one of the hardest to live with every day.”
Her heart kicked in her chest. She never thought he’d let her go. Tears tightened the back of her throat.
A hank of his hair fell across his forehead, and she curled her fingers through the silky soft strands.
His shoulders shook when a shudder passed through him.
“The color is beautiful.” She twirled the lock around her fingers. “Sophie thinks our separation grayed it.”
Without lifting his head, his eyes found hers. “The day you asked me to leave, it was dark. By the end of that week, it’d turned. The color left my hair the same way it’d left my life.”
Her fingers detangled from the short locks when he shifted to stretch out on the bed beside her.
Damp heat from the shower clung to his large, naked body. “But I don’t mind it. It’s a scar I wear with pride. A reminder of the mistakes I’ve made. The battles I’ve lost. The war I’ve so far survived.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “You think of our marriage as a battle?”
“Not the marriage, the break up, and not a battle—a war.”
Her battered heart wailed with its agreement. By the bone-deep weariness and constant aching in her body, she felt like she’d been through a war. Neither one of them had set out to hurt the other. It’d just happened. She could see the innocence in what they’d done to each other. All of it. And though they both wished to stop the hurting, they were powerless to do so.
Why, when they loved each other, was it so hard to keep from wounding one another?
“I wish we could rewind.” Needing to touch his warmth, her hand moved to his chest. “Go back to the early days and start over.”
The ghosts of impossibility haunted the dark corners of their bedroom.
“Shea, can we fix this? Can we fix us?”
His soft smile surprised her. “We can. We aren’t broken.”
“Sometimes, it feels like we are.”
“We’re injured, but we can heal.”
“How?” she whispered.
“With time, and with love. The answer is always love.” He tapped a finger on the tip of her nose. “You’re the wedding dress designer. You know this.”
But the humor in his tone didn’t reach his eyes.
His hand closed around hers. Gently, he turned her palm face up and pressed his warm mouth to the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. His fingertips lightly traced the underside of her arm. and there she saw reflected all the aches in her own heart.
When he nudged the hem of her sleepshirt, she arched her back to allow him to tug the garment up. When she was naked before him, his gaze swept over her body. The color rose high on his cheekbones and amidst the dusty glow, his eyes burned like blue fire, leaving a trail of sensation heat everywhere his gaze touched.
He traced the line between her breasts, and his fingers toyed with the silver chain and the band of her wedding ring before circling each of her budded nipples with whisper soft swirls. His hand roamed lower, leisurely dropping to her navel. He lingered a moment, then slipped through the curls between her thighs.
His sweetly provoking fingertips pulled a soft gasp from her throat. Oblivion beckoned when he kneeled before her and grasped her knees. Easing her legs apart, his wide shoulders pressed into her thighs when he brought his mouth to her body.
With the silky glide of his tongue, pleasure surged and she clutched his head hard, holding him close while she rocked against him. Reaching up, he clasped her wrists, pulling them down to her sides.
Manacled in his grip and spread open, her passion ignited. Incoherent sounds vibrated in her throat as he licked and ate into her softness. His mouth savored her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. Searing need flooded her honeyed core. Every sweep of his tongue unleashed more delicious sensations and she rode the undulating tide of desire.
Her moans grew in volume and frequency. Commanded by his hot mouth, her hips swirled, chasing the promise of shameless bliss. Gentle gave way to wild and reckless, and soon he rose up between her thighs.
She drank in the sight of him. The well-defined muscles of his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. Heavily aroused, the prominent length of his thick shaft captured her attention. Taut and dusky, his erection gave an eager jerk. She let her knees fall open.
Barely restrained emotion poured off him as he lowered his body over hers. When his pulsing heft nudged at her opening, she gasped and gripped his shoulders. He entered her slowly and pushed deep.
On a cry of pleasure-pain, she arched her back and he suckled a beaded nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. His rough hands rushed over her sensitive skin. Passion lashed at her and she grasped his butt with both of her hands, feeling his muscles clench as he pumped into her.
He impaled her with relentless strokes, and she struggled beneath him, wanting it faster, harder, deeper. She told him so, and he cursed, uttering the naughty words against her flesh in his gravelly voice.
Sensation swelled. Emotion expanded in her chest as she couldn’t contain the sweet, horrible love his body delivered to hers. The ache became unbearable and tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Shattered, but unable to stop, she raced toward her own destruction, lifting her knees to take him deeper. To take him all.
Gripping her hips, his eyes clamped on her breasts as they bounced with the force of his penetration. With his wicked words, he described all the ways he loved her body.
Too soon, she succumbed to the power of his raspy voice and probing eyes, crying out as lush spasms rippled outward from the center of her body. The climax rolled through her in delicious waves, rising and falling again and again, before giving one last, voluptuous lurch.
He collapsed on t
op of her and his mouth latched on to the throbbing pulse point on her throat. His thickness grew impossibly large inside her and he made a series of plunging thrusts before his roar of pleasure vibrated against her skin.
He remained wedged inside her while their breathing returned to normal. When he finally withdrew, her body made a soft sound of regret. Rolling off the bed, he crossed to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of shorts. Then continued rummaging through the drawer. Languidly, she watched his bare backside and the way the muscles of his back rippled with his movements.
Then he glanced at her over his shoulder, his disheveled hair in perfect disarray, and held up his faded green T-shirt.
She cringed inwardly.
“Is this my T-shirt?” He rumpled the cotton in his grip. “I’ve been looking everywhere for this.”
“Hmm? Oh, you must’ve left it here by mistake. I sleep in it sometimes.”
A smug smile curved his impossibly pouty mouth.
“And I also wear it when I clean the toilets.”
The shirt muffled the sound of his laughter when he yanked it on and his head poked through the collar. His gaze touched her face, then lazily, seductively, swept over her nakedness.
Though her body was sated, she experienced a sharp longing.
A painful, dangerous longing.
He returned to the bed, and as he coaxed another orgasm from her satiated body, the longing only intensified. Exquisite and awful, it devastated her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He jolted awake.
A loud noise reverberated through the house. Slowly, Shea’s sleep-addled mind soon identified the impatient punch of the doorbell and he staggered from the bed.
Isobel gained her feet as he stuck his head through the collar of his T-shirt.
“It’s almost three o’clock.” Fear infected her tone.
In the hallway, Finn hovered outside his bedroom door, shirtless and barefoot. Together, they moved toward the sound of furious fists pounding on the front door while Isobel hurried after them.
At the door, Shea peered through the transom window and flicked on the porch light. “What the…?”
When he opened the door, Sidney Shaw and her father, Ray, confronted them. Fury contorted Ray’s blunt features, and his fingers bit into his daughter’s upper arm. He glared at Shea with blurry, bloodshot eyes.