Page 17

Chapter 17

Juliette

Yup, I went there. All the way there to the place he asked me not to go. Made myself right at home as I stood there telling myself I could handle any answer. Eclipse and envelop any of his dark past with light as bright as the sun.

But then he dropped a hard, “Yes,” on me, and my plan went to shit.

I stumbled back, becoming feverish from shock and worry.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared at me, waiting for me to spiral. Or maybe to run. To take our son and leave him as he feared I’d do.

Power over you. Dangerous. But you’ve killed people, and I’m just . . .

“Why? How? Tell me,” I sputtered, drawing my hand into a fist over my heart as if that’d somehow disrupt the pain developing beneath my rib cage.

“You don’t want to do this now,” he grated out.

“No,” I shot back, “that’d be you who doesn’t want to do this.” I swallowed. “I very much want to do this.” I needed him to dress those skeletons up in something that made sense, so I didn’t succumb to the panic attack knocking on my door. Because like hell was his “yes” about his time in the military.

“You’re right, I don’t. I’ve made myself emphatically clear on that,” he bit back.

But then his strong stance weakened, and he lifted his hands from his pockets, settling them on the counter. His biceps became steel as he pushed against the counter as if he could fuse his palms with the marble, searching for a strong anchor against the storm of what he was about to reveal.

“A year and a half after we met in Aruba, my sister was murdered, and my younger sister, only eighteen at the time, found her body.”

Oh God . My stomach squeezed as I slapped my hand over my mouth. His “why” had my knees buckling, knowing that statement was only the start.

“My brothers and I couldn’t allow her killer to walk free, so we took his life.” He shoved away from the counter, and his following words burned hard and fast from his lips. “And I’d do it again and a hundred times over.” He faced me, breathing hard. “Just like I would if someone hurt you. Or hurt our son. Like I’ve already done.” The “already done” hit me like a body shot, sending my other hand over my mouth as he finished, “At the rave.”

His eyes widened at the realization of what he said, and he came my way.

If it were anyone else, I would’ve flinched and turned away, but for him, I didn’t. I couldn’t.

And when he gently removed my hands from my face to draw me into his embrace, I didn’t resist. In fact, I fell headfirst into the feeling of safety he gave me.

He quietly wrapped me up in his arms, cradling the back of my head while I let the reality of everything he’d said sink in as I reconciled what he’d done and converted his words into something that made sense.

His sister was murdered, and he took revenge. And he saved our son by taking a life. Not a low-level gang thing if he had to get blood on his hands.

If it weren’t for him holding me upright, the spinning room would’ve taken me down. No more going with the flow. I finally understood why they were both anxious for me not to learn the truth about what went down at the rave, why we were living under his roof.

“Say something.” His strangled, emotion-driven words reminded me of Colin’s from earlier, and they awakened something inside me.

I untangled myself from his hold to look up at him. “I’m so sorry,” was all I could come up with. The weight of those words felt so insignificant for how I truly felt. “I’m so sorry you lost your sister, but I’m not sorry for the life you took because she died. Or the life you took to save my son.” I sniffled, catching a tear with my tongue.

He grasped my arms as if I’d float away, when in reality I was anchored to the floor, still grounded in shock.

“I’m so sorry she was taken from you,” I cried when more and more made sense—me being drawn to his sister’s church and the note in his wallet from her that he needed back. “I’m sorry I pushed you. You don’t even know me, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Don’t say that,” he countered in a gravelly voice, adding a touch of pressure to my arms as he held me. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“I do. I made you talk about this after you clearly asked me not to.”

“It was going to come out at some point.” He let go of me and backed up, cupping his mouth, eyes on the floor.

I leaned my hip against the counter for support and put my hand down. There was still so much to process.

“And I, uh, did my best to keep people alive last night. I wasn’t trying to kill anyone.” He closed his eyes. “I used one of the guys trying to kill me as a shield to catch a bullet meant for me.” He frowned, opening his eyes. “Maybe he survived?”

Catch a bullet? Now I was going to collapse. “I need to sit.”

At my side in a heartbeat, he set his hands on my hips and lifted me onto the counter. He remained in front of me as if worried I’d fall, and I set my hands on his shoulders, searching for my sanity.

But it was lost somewhere at a rave because my son had been around guns and death and bad guys. And a hero. I looked at the man in front of me. “If you weren’t there . . .” was all I could get out, knowing he’d understand me.

He nodded. “I don’t want to think about that. I can’t. Because the idea of losing him is unimaginable.”

A shiver flowed down my body and chills covered my skin at the catch in his voice, his glossy eyes refusing to yield tears.

“Who needs a guardian angel when there’s you?” I whispered, letting go of a few tears on his behalf.

“Angel? No.” His Adam’s apple rolled as he stared at me unblinking. “That’d be you. The love of a mother is unmatched.”

“Now our son will know the love of a father, too.” I needed him to hear the finality in my voice. To believe I wouldn’t take his son from him. “No power over you. No chance of me taking him from you,” I voiced my thoughts, not wanting to leave any of this up to interpretation. “Just partners in raising our son.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against mine. “I wish that was all I had to share, but there’s more.”

“More skeletons?”

He straightened and nodded.

“All bad guys?”

“All bad,” he responded without hesitation.

I let my shoulders fall, the only burden still weighing them down coming from the stress of what could’ve happened to our son, along with the sympathy I had for the man before me and everything he’d so clearly endured over the years.

He straightened but kept me boxed in, and I was perfectly happy there. “Why aren’t you running?” Lines of concern cut across his forehead, and the crinkles around his eyes deepened. “Forcing me to chase after you? Slamming a door in my face?”

“Would you chase after me?”

“Would you slam the door in my face?”

“Do you see me running?”

He quietly stared at me, not volleying another question my way.

“My stepbrother,” I spoke up a few quiet moments later. “He’s taken justice into his own hands before, too.” Kind of does it for a living. “I don’t judge him for his life choices; I still love him. I’d never stop him from being in my life or Colin’s because of his decisions.” I hoped I was making myself clear.

“Love.”

Those four letters punctured the air and slammed into me, forcing me to reassemble them back into a word I’d never said to anyone outside my family. And I was left wondering why he’d latched on to that word instead of all the other ones I’d said.

“Why don’t we start over? It’s my fault we skipped the basics and went straight for the jugular.”

He lifted his brows as if unamused (or heck, maybe amused) at my phrasing on that.

“You want to hold off learning more about what happened at the rave, then?”

I thought about it, and it took me three seconds to answer. “We’re safe here for now, yes?”

“You’re safe with me, yes.” The subtle switch of his wording wasn’t lost on me.

“Okay, then let’s wait to discuss more. My heart can only handle so much in such a short amount of time. I could use something longer than a commercial break between the heavy.”

He lowered his gaze to my chest. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your heart.”

I sucked in a sharp breath when he unexpectedly lifted my hand from the counter and held my wrist.

“Pulse feels strong.”

Even stronger now with you touching me. “Did you just go nurse mode on me?”

And just like that, we were back to playful banter. We’d abracadabra’d our way from a place of pain to comfort.

I wasn’t sure how he was truly steadying my pulse after what he’d shared, but he’d injected a feeling of safety into my veins and gave me new life. And now I wanted to stay here just like this. Keep the dark where it belonged, not bring it with us into the here and now.

“Basics. Let’s start there. Like back to when you were born. Which was when? How old are you anyway?”

Keeping hold of my wrist, he replied, “Forty-three as of last December.”

“Ever married?”

“No.”

“Long-term relationship?”

“Will you judge me if I say no?”

Well, that response felt oddly personal, honest, and not very basic.

“Only if you judge me for the same,” I confessed.

“Then no, nothing long-term for me, either.”

Our Q and A had shifted slightly, mirroring Colin’s from earlier. And it felt right.

“Not the type?” I couldn’t help but probe.

He smoothed the pad of his thumb in small circles where he held my wrist. Who knew such a light touch could provoke such strong feelings?

Skeletons and danger were officially back in the dark, exactly where I planned to leave both for a while.

“Never found the one.”

He didn’t say he hadn’t met the one, just hadn’t found her. Was I the her he’d been looking for? There I went again, falling headfirst into that feeling of hope.

His eyes slanted to where he held my wrist, and a smirk ghosted his full mouth. My pulse was racing with hope, and he’d clocked it.

“Last time you were on a date?”

He closed one eye and said sincerely, not sounding even remotely annoyed, “This is starting to feel the opposite of basic.”

True. “Well then, hmm. Do you consider Die Hard a Christmas movie?”

“Why? Has anyone ever said it’s not?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Some would say it’s not.”

He grunted in mock disgust. “Please tell me you’re not one of those people so I won’t have to kick you out.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I teased. “But no need.” I smiled. “Colin watched that with me this past Christmas, actually. He loved it.” Was that insensitive to mention since he missed out on it? “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His words said one thing, but his step back and the return of his hand to the counter said another. His movements had me worried I’d killed our banter bubble. “I’m relieved to know his mother raised him to have good taste.”

He scratched his jaw as if the scruff was irritating him, and all I could think about was how it’d feel against my skin if he were to kiss me. I genuinely had no clue how my mind went there after everything I’d learned, but at this point, nothing really surprised me.

“Any other questions, or are you satisfied for now?”

“Hardly satisfied. Not close to being done.” I wet my lips. “Any chance you’re allergic to shellfish?”

“That’s not public record. How’d you—” He dropped his head forward, shaking it slightly. “Colin, too?”

I nodded.

“Out of curiosity, does cold medicine make him feel drunk?”

I wasn’t sure why he was asking that or how he’d even guessed such a thing.

“Yeah, it affects him even more than alcohol does for me.”

His expression softened.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just confirming he’d never take drugs and was telling me the truth at the rave when I asked since a bunch of people were on them there.”

Chills coasted down my spine. “Ah, I see.” I shook my head. “He wouldn’t, no. You can believe him on that.”

“Good,” he said firmly, rolling his lips inward momentarily as if feeling bad for doubting him. “Any other allergies I should know about?”

“Peanut. Both of us are allergic.”

He let out a sound that suggested displeasure, then walked over to one of the kitchen doors and vanished, reappearing from the pantry with a few bags of shelled peanuts.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Of course I do.”

I wasn’t going to argue; I already knew where that’d get me when it came to him. I was a quick study. Instead, I switched gears a bit. “Pineapple on your pizza?”

“Now you’re just screwing with me.” The man was about to be offended on behalf of all pizzas if I lied and said I loved pineapple with my pepperoni.

“Maybeeee.” I smiled as he resumed blocking my ability to escape with his body. “It’s good to know you take your pizza and action flicks so seriously.”

“As everyone should.” He winked.

If I weren’t already sitting down, I’d have been a puddle on the floor.

“You always plan to be a nurse?”

“Doctor. Our son changed things.” Before he could comment, I explained, “My father graciously offered to help me pursue becoming a pediatrician as originally planned once Colin was a bit older, but I decided to go the nursing route. And honestly, I couldn’t be happier.”

“And you love your current job?”

“I do. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d like to know if you want to keep it.”

“Oh, um, no. No, no, no.” I waved my arms, nearly falling off the counter, but he swiftly touched my waist, keeping me there. “You are not supporting us both. I won’t quit my job and rely on you.”

“I plan to support you both, whether you like it or not,” he said in a deep, authoritative voice I was now becoming all too familiar with, “but I’d never ask you to quit your job unless you want to. I’m not a controlling asshole.” He let go of my waist as if suddenly realizing where his hand was. “Okay, well, sometimes an asshole, but never to people I love.”

“Something tells me you’re also a touch controlling.” I held my hand between us and indicated a smidge with two fingers.

He reached out and spread open my fingers. “That’s probably more realistic.”

“At least you’re honest.” I laughed, and wow, that felt good. Like medicine for the soul. “So, the job question, then. Why?”

“Because I can’t let you go back to work until it’s safe.”

That closet door full of skeletons popped open in my mind like a jack-in-the-box at his reminder we weren’t safe. Mentally shoving the door closed, not ready to face reality again, I told him, “I can’t take time off from work. I’ll lose my job.”

“If you want to keep your job, I’ll make sure it’s there for you when it’s safe for you to return.”

“How?”

“Hospitals are always raising money for something. I’ll be sure whatever they need is paid for.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” The man moved so fast I could barely keep up with him.

Hmm. “What about Colin and school?”

“He’s suspended until Wednesday, right? So, if we need him to stay out longer, I’ll handle that, too. Of course, I’d prefer he changed schools and enroll where I went. Better programs there.”

“You already looked into his current school?”

“Of course I did.”

“You’re lightning-quick about everything.”

His eyes dropped between us, settling on my lap, and a flash of heat pooled in my stomach as he murmured, “Not about everything.”

I remember. Thank God for the padded bra now.

“Colin told me what happened the other day,” he said in a firm voice, bringing us back on task and cutting the obvious tension before it consumed us both. “I don’t like the idea that his principal quietly stood by while a guy had you get on your hands and knees for him.”

I worked through the surprise surrounding Colin opening up to him about that before even knowing he was his father. “I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want him getting hit with assault charges or a lawsuit. But if Colin’s game about switching schools, I am as well. The last thing I want to do is see that kid’s father or face the principal again.” I shivered at the thought, and he set his hands on my arms, tracking the chills there with his palms. Of course, all he managed to do was create new ones.

“I’ll be needing that man’s name.”

My gaze swerved to his face. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” I shot back, not wanting to give it to him for precisely the same reason I didn’t tell Easton about the incident.

“Yes,” he said emphatically. “I can do this all day,” he added before I could protest again.

“Oh, just a little controlling, huh?” I teased. “But I suppose being a little controlling is okay if it’s for a worthy reason. I won’t fight you on that.”

“Much appreciated.” I read the fire in his eyes, the desire to handle Zach’s father like Colin handled his son at school the other day. “His name,” he prompted.

My shoulders sagged. “He’s a defense lawyer.” I had to try one more time to talk some sense into him.

“And?”

He stopped touching me and backed up, so I took the opportunity to hop down and test out my legs. Thankfully, I didn’t have an Ariel from The Little Mermaid moment and remained standing fine.

“This is not one of those ‘worthy cause’ times.”

He scoffed as if offended. “The man made the mother of my son get on her hands and knees, and you don’t think that’s a good enough reason to . . .”

I folded my arms, curious where he planned to go with that sentence. “He doesn’t belong in that closet of yours. He’s an asshole, not evil.”

He narrowed his eyes as if about to let me know there wasn’t a difference, but he wisely refrained, saving my heart the unnecessary stress. His hands went to the counter on each side of me, imprisoning me again.

He closed his eyes and said something under his breath, presumably in Italian since I didn’t understand. “You should get some rest. I think that’s enough questions for now.”

I considered protesting, but I was mentally and physically drained, and I didn’t entirely trust myself to make the best decisions in that state. Considering how easily I’d slipped from being afraid to being turned on within the space of minutes should’ve concerned me, too. “Okay.”

He opened his eyes as if relieved I didn’t put up a fight. “Good. So, you’ll sleep?”

“I’ll try.” Best I could promise.

“Good,” he repeated, remaining a fixed block of steely resolve before me.

I angled my head, curious if he planned to move so I could do what he’d asked. When he didn’t budge, I parked my hands on his chest, preparing to give him a little nudge. His heart was beating hard and fast.

“Juliette.” I’d never heard my name said as both a warning and a plea before.

“Yes?” I whispered.

The muscles in his arms went taut, as if restraining himself from touching me instead of the marble off to my sides. “I’m sure Colin’s hoping you and I will wind up together.”

Oh. I swallowed. “I’m sure he’s thought about it.” And I have a hundred times since you came back into my life. Points for keeping that truth to myself.

“The last thing I want to do is disappoint him all over again.”

His words shouldn’t have gutted me or resurrected the wall I’d forgotten to keep up between us, but they did. I had two hearts to protect, not just my own.

“I understand what you’re saying.” The only power I held over him was about our son, but it wouldn’t go beyond that. No us. Message received. Whatever was left of my hope that there’d be more between us disintegrated.

He pushed off the counter and righted his posture. “You understand what, exactly?” He angled his head, intense eyes pointed at me.

I faked a smile. “That we can’t be together just to make Colin happy.”

“We can’t?” he repeated, brows slanting as if displeased or confused by what I’d said. I’d swear I heard a question mark in his tone, too.

I played with the hem of my shirt, deciding eye contact was a bad idea. “I’d never want you to feel obligated to be with me because you’re his father. You can be in his life without being in mine.” I did my best to keep my voice steady when I added, “I think it’s safe to say we’re both still attracted to each other, and sure, we shared a moment or two just now . . . but that shouldn’t be confused with more. The last thing I want is for Colin to get hurt. You’re right.”

He backed up as if I’d poured burning hot water on him. Yeah, well, I hurt myself with those words, too. Because the main what-if I’d spent seventeen years thinking about was, What if he found us one day and wanted us both and we all lived as a family happily ever after?

He dragged his palm down his face before giving me his profile.

Why’d it feel like I offended him? Wasn’t this his idea? Not to give Colin the wrong idea about us?

“We’re both overwhelmed by everything that’s happened and what we talked about, and it’s only natural to get mixed up.” I was making this so much worse. Someone stop me. “We can’t be together because of some type of?—”

“If you say obligation one more time, so help me,” he cut me off, but at least he was finally communicating again. “Is that how you feel?” He scrutinized me. “Are you worried you need to be with me because of that ?”

He really hated that word. “Listen.” I lifted my arm, palm open. “Colin has you in his life now, and you have him in yours. That’s all that matters.” I backpedaled the heck out of answering him, too embarrassed to admit I’d spent seventeen years wanting a lifetime of forever with a man I’d only known for three hours.

“Sure,” he said in a low, dark voice before turning his back and doing what I’d promised him I wouldn’t, walking away from me.