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“Well, she was a very smart woman,” Taylor hissed at him.
“And she had four closets full of clothes at one point. We played hide and seek in them,” he reminded her.
Mist started to cover Taylor’s eyes. She swallowed, trying to push away the lump in her throat. “It’s just too much,” she whispered, staring at the clothes.
“They are just clothes, Taylor,” Derrick told her.
Taylor shook her head because it wasn’t just the clothes. It was everything. It was the company and the money and the fake engagement and the memories and the new responsibilities and her trying to do what was best and what she wanted and what she thought everyone who wasn’t there would want her to do.
“It’s just too much,” Taylor said as she shook her head and dropped her face to her hands. She couldn’t stop the tears now; they had all built up. Just when she thought she had it all under control, something stupid cracked her, and she fell apart. And then she fought it because she knew she couldn’t do that and it just all became too much.
Her knees wobbled, and just when Taylor was ready to sink to the floor, Derrick came to her and pulled her into him. Quickly Taylor pushed at his chest and huffed in air, trying to stop the tears, but Derrick threaded a hand into her hair and pulled her face to him. “Just let it out, Tay,” he whispered. The sound soothed her, a fact that irritated her, but she chose to ignore it and instead cried into his chest. Derrick stroked her hair back and planted soft kisses on her forehead, each kiss a tranquilizer, relaxing her and pulling her back to the now.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor murmured into Derrick’s chest.
“Don’t be,” Derrick insisted, softly planting another kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to help you through this, Taylor.”
Taylor nodded. She depended on him now, and this was dangerous territory. But with all the other things demanding her to be clear and focused, she knew that how she was with Derrick was going to have to be a gray area. She didn’t want to depend on him, but nobody else understood it all, and he was her outlet. The gray area was not without its risks, like her response to him in the pool, but she was just going to have to keep her body’s response tapped down.
“Let’s get this stuff in the closet and get in bed,” Derrick suggested. Taylor’s body totally betrayed her at the words. Her hormones were still pissed at being unsatisfied earlier.
To prevent herself from jumping on him, she nodded and moved away, busying herself with moving the bags. She was exhausted, and tomorrow she had big plans to learn more big business with Simon.
Focuswas the name of the game.
* * *
Derrick wassurprised at how quickly Taylor moved the bags after her meltdown. Her pace was amazing, and she even found a bag of sleep clothes. He would have much preferred her sleeping naked, but that information would most likely send her over the edge, so he kept that little nugget to himself.
She emerged from the bathroom in pajamas, and Derrick went in to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. He splashed his face with cold water and took deep breaths. He could sleep in the chair; maybe that would be best. She had wanted to sleep in separate rooms, and he had fed her the line about it not looking good. Who would really notice, though? He was desperate to have her close, and it was embarrassing. Well, it would be if anyone knew that was what he was doing.
He would leave it up to her. If she was uncomfortable with him sleeping with her, then he would stay in the chair.
“Tay,” he said, opening the door, “do you want me to—” Derrick stopped when he found Taylor already asleep in his bed.
You should sleep in the chair, his conscience told him, but even as it told him this he hurried around the other side of the bed and slid in beside her. His conscience beat him up.Well, I’m not holding her like I want to,he informed it,that has to be something.
Derrick turned and watched her breathing and sent up thanks again that she was here, safe and perfect, and here. His eyes flickered to the ring on her finger, and he smiled. To her it was just a thing, but to him it meant something, and to everyone who saw it the ring meant that she was his and they would always be together. Too bad the only person he wanted to believe that wanted it off, badly.
With one last look at Taylor’s sleeping face, Derrick closed his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor wokeand rolled her head. Derrick was lying beside her, his chest exposed and his face at rest. He was gorgeous. Taylor swallowed back feelings, lots of them, and slid quietly from bed. She was hungry and knew she had a huge day ahead, so her first stop was the kitchen. Taylor padded gingerly across the room and silently closed the door.
The house felt different this morning. It was quiet, but that wasn’t it; there was something else—something didn’t feel right.
“There you are,” a voice whispered from behind her. Taylor froze. Fear rooted her to the ground. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe; her breaths coming out in small puffs. “Time to go home,” the voice rasped at her, and she felt a hand on her arm. That got her going.
“No!” she shouted and jumped back, spinning and facing her uncle, the man everyone thought was dead. “Don’t touch me!” she shouted. He looked like she remembered: crazed, disheveled, and dangerous. “You’re dead, they said you were dead,” she hissed at him, backing up against a wall as he advanced on her.
“Do I look dead?” he asked in the flat, barely audible voice that sent chills up her spine. “You are coming back with me.”
“No!”
“Yes, princess,” he said sarcastically. “You stay at the house, where I can keep an eye on you.” He advanced on her, and Taylor flung herself against the door she had just exited, twisting the knob, but it wouldn’t move.
She pounded on the heavy wood. “Derrick!” she shouted. “Help me!”