“Shay … you just don’t understand; you’ve done nothing I need to forgive. Now come on. Come tell these people a story about my girl.”
Twice more, she thought she saw him.
After she’d finished talking, awkwardly, stiltedly, about the shy, terrified girl she had been—still was—and the determined woman who had been Darcy Montgomery, Shay found herself standing inside the house on the second floor, staring out a picture window at the crowd that was gathered on the deck. Despite the gently falling snow, there were more people outside than inside, gathered around the roaring fire, the portable heating units, talking, laughing, and crying, all in equal measure.
But she couldn’t see that familiar head of auburn hair, the one she kept thinking she saw, just out of the corner of her eye.
Abruptly, she tensed, acutely aware of a heated presence at her back. Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes. Please …
“Looking for somebody, Shay?”
Her knees buckled. Slamming her hands against the wall in front of her, she rested her head against it, reminding herself of one simple fact—breathing isn’t optional. “Elliot.”
“Turn around.”
I can’t, she thought, hysteria bubbling up in her throat in a nervous giggle.
He decided to help her out, even before she managed to say anything, gentle hands closing around her shoulders, urging her around to face him.
He was pale, she noticed that right away. Paler, thinner, his cheekbones standing out in stark relief against his skin. But his eyes glittered with that familiar, burning intensity.
She couldn’t have looked more stunned if he’d hauled off and popped her one, Elliot decided sourly. He didn’t know whether that was flattering or not. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to shake her, and he was hard-pressed to stay upright. He hurt like hell, his stomach was queasy from the pain meds he’d popped without any food, and if he didn’t sit down soon, he was probably going to fall down.
But none of it mattered.
He finally had her alone and damn it, they were going to have this out.
“What are you doing here?”
Elliot stared at her, clenching his jaw to keep from shouting. A week. It had taken him a fucking week to track her down and she wanted to know what he was doing here? “What do you mean, what am I doing here? You are here. Where else am I supposed to be?”
Shay stared off past his shoulder. There were family pictures on the wall. She could recognize Darcy in a lot of them—they all looked so happy. So damn happy, and she’d ruined that.
Ella’s voice drifted back to her. Could you blame your mother? For giving birth to your sister?
No … shit. Confusion, pain, grief—they all ripped through her mind. “Elliot, you don’t need to be around me.”
Logically, he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t want to be. “You should go,” she whispered quietly, edging around him. She had to get away from him, before she grabbed on to him—grabbed on, and never let go. “Go back to Earth’s End, be with your sister … run your store. Forget about me.”
Forget about me. Go find some sort of life.
And she’d … hell. Do what? The fear that had kept her trapped for so much of her life was gone. She could take her life back, whichever one she chose, and not worry about being found, about being hurt. But the life before her seemed pretty damn empty. There was already a ragged, gaping hole in her chest.
There was a faint, muffled sound—footsteps on carpet—and then Elliot’s voice. Closer. So much closer. She closed her eyes to keep from looking at him, to keep from reaching for him.
“Why shouldn’t I be here? Why am I supposed to leave, Shay? You are here, damn it.”
Harsh, bitter laughter escaped her—it hurt. Her heart hurt, damn it. She wasn’t as empty as she’d thought; she was full of misery and heartache, and only some of it was related to her sister, her brother, and her mother. But that poison shouldn’t touch him any more than it already had. “Elliot, yes. Exactly. I am here … that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t want to be.”
“Shay, you’re going to have to help me out here. I’m not following.” He brushed her hand with his.
Just that light touch was painful—a slap to her heart, a blow to her soul. She’d never have this …
Jerking away, she hunched in on herself and glared at him. “Don’t you get it?”
“Apparently not.” He caught her hand and tugged her along as he started to walk.
Shay jerked against his hold and he shot her a dark look. “I need to sit down, damn it, and I need to do it soon. So you either walk with me or I’ll pick you up and then when I fall down, you can feel nice and guilty over that, too.”
Glaring at him, she said, “Nobody is making you pick me up.”
“Nobody is making you pull the martyr bit, either, but you’re doing a fucking great job.” He paused at a door and frowned as he peered inside, then moved on down the hall. Shay grimaced as he pulled her into what looked like a kid’s bedroom, complete with toys all over the floor.
“I’m not being a martyr,” she snapped at him as he continued to pull her along. He sat and the bed was so low, she ended up half-crouched over. Feeling stupid, she perched at the edge, but he grunted and reached over, pulling her closer.
“That’s better.” He stared at her, and the look in his eyes made her heart race.
It made her heart race in a way that immediately had her looking away. She needed to get up. Run away. He wasn’t moving fast and if she ran …
“Since when did you turn into a coward, Shay?” He brushed her hair away from her face.
“I’ve always been a coward.” She closed her eyes.
“No. You’ve had plenty of reasons to be afraid, but you’ve never been a coward. Until now. You’re thinking about running again. When there’s no reason to do it, you’re thinking about running from me. From us.”
“There shouldn’t be an us.” Groaning, she looked at him and said, “Don’t you get it? I’m poison, Elliot.” She was still horrified over what she’d learned, still reeling over the truths she had faced … over what she was learning. What if there’s more?
As he laid a hand on her knee, Shay shook her head. “How can you sit so close to me? Damn it, why don’t you see me as a monster?”
“A monster?” Elliot shook his head. “Why in the hell would I see you as a monster?”
“My sister murdered my baby brother!” The words felt like they’d been ripped out of her and the pain of it hurt. It was visceral in its intensity. “She killed him, damn it. And why? Because my mother died in childbirth and because he cried. My stepfather gutted a cat in front of us. And I’ve blocked all of that shit out of my head. Monstrous, awful, evil things. Since then, she’s killed four other people—two of them were babies. She was a fucking monster.”
“Yes.” Elliot cupped her cheek, stroked a thumb over her lip. “She was. There’s no doubt about that. But Shay … she’s not you.”
He eased closer, pulled her against him.
“I’m poison,” she choked out.
“No.” He stroked a hand up her back.
“Yes, I am …”
“You were a child trapped in a kind of hell I can’t even imagine. And you survived. Sane. And wonderful, and amazing, and strong. There’s nothing poisonous inside you. There’s nothing wrong with you and you’re sure as hell not a monster.”
She shook her head against his chest. She wasn’t sane. Every damn second, she felt like she was losing her mind, that everything was slipping away. She wasn’t wonderful. If she’d been wonderful, she could have done something to stop Leslie, or at least find justice before now. Nor was she amazing. Or strong.
She was just broken. Completely broken, completely busted inside.
“You survived, Shay. You survived not just one monster, but two of them, tormenting you throughout much of your life, and you never let it break you.” Elliot stared down at her, brushing the tears from her face. Her t
ears, the very heartbreak coming from her, would end him. He knew it. If he couldn’t make her understand … no. It just wasn’t an option. He’d get through to her, because there was no other acceptable outcome. Cupping her face in his hand, he eased her face upright.
She resisted, not wanting to look at him, but he was patient and he didn’t quit until she finally looked up to meet his gaze.
The misery there had him ready to do anything, anything, to take that pain away. But he couldn’t. Not if she wouldn’t let him help. God, please don’t let her shut me out again …
Except he wouldn’t let it happen. He wasn’t walking away this time. Cradling her face in one hand, he stroked his thumb over her lip. “You may not see it, but I do. You survived hell on earth … you survived things nobody should see, much less a child. And it didn’t break you. Shay, you’re not a monster, you’re a damn miracle.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her—quick, hard—and then lifted his head just enough to stare into her eyes.
“And you’re my miracle, damn it. I’m not letting you go, I’m not letting you run away. Not over this. If you’ve decided you don’t love me, if you decide later on down the road you want out, that’s one thing. But thinking you’ve got poison inside you, thinking you’re a monster and walking out over that? No. This is us, Shay, and we deserve a fucking chance. After everything she did to you, what she tried to do to us, we deserve a damn chance.”
She was silent, staring at him.
“Can you tell me that you don’t love me?” He threw it out there, a challenge. No matter what he’d said earlier, he knew she wasn’t a coward and damn it, if it took a dare, fine. He’d dare her into this. He didn’t have a problem with that.
“You know I love you.”
“Then why in the hell are you letting her win? She probably hated the idea of you having anybody in your life and you want to let her win?”
“It’s not a game.” Shay reached up, touched his lips. “This is life, Elliot. It’s not a game.”
“No. It’s a hell of a lot more important … it’s our lives. And I want to spend mine with you. It’s all I’ve wanted almost from the first time I met you. Now just answer this—do you want the same thing or not?”
Just answer … Shay stared up at him.
Shit, he made it sound so easy.
“Don’t think so hard,” he whispered against her lips. “Trust me … just answer the damn question and we’ll worry about the hard shit later. Do you want the same thing or not?”
Trust me …
She found herself thinking about something Leslie had said, back when she’d pretended to be Darcy.
Do you really think you can trust him?
Shay knew she could. Shoving thoughts of Leslie out of her mind, she thought of Darcy, wondered what her friend would have said—and she already knew the answer. Darcy would have all but been kicking Shay’s tail for hesitating.
But none of that mattered if Shay couldn’t work up the courage.
If Shay couldn’t let go.
Easing back, she stared at Elliot’s face, reached up, and touched his mouth.
Trust me …
She did.
She could.
She would.
Leaning in, she pressed her brow to his. “I want the same thing, Elliot.”
His arms came around her, and all the tension just drained out of his body. He sagged back onto the bed, taking Shay with him. “You’re not running,” he mumbled against her hair.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head.
“Say it, damn it,” he growled, squeezing her tighter.
“Hey, easy …” She could feel the bulk of bandages under her hand.
“Say it.” Lifting his head, he glared at her.
“I’m not running.”
“Thank God.” He blew out a sigh, closed his eyes. “Shit, I’m tired. You’re exhausting me, Shay.”
She winced, guilt twisting inside her. “I’m sorry.”
A big hand cradled the back of her head, easing her back against his chest. “Don’t be. I’m not. Just be here … I think I might fall asleep here in a second. Pain pills. Evil bastards.”
She scowled, tried to lift her head to stare at him, but he kept holding her tight. “Pain pills?”
“Yeah. Be here … if I go to sleep. You’ll be here when I wake, right?”
In the darkness of the room, she shifted around and whispered, “Yeah. I’ll be here.” And this time, she’d stay.
For my family, always. I love you all so much.
For Irene, my agent. Thank God I’ve got you around to keep me sane and focused.
For all of my readers. You all are wonderful.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I should probably make a note … pretty please to my editor, Kate, my agent, Irene, and my admin, Nicole … the events in this book in no way have any bearing on anything, other than a wild imagination.
Thanks to Sassy for refreshers on Phoenix.
Thanks to all my readers.
Thanks to Olivia Gates for the refreshers regarding the pneumothorax.
Thanks, so much, for the family who put up with the fact that I had to hide in my room and write at night, even while we were on vacation … I love you all, you’re my everything, and I thank God for you.
BY SHILOH WALKER
Stolen
If You Know Her
If You Hear Her
If You See Her
Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense Page 34