I shifted on the bed, turning to face him. “You really hurt me.”
“I—”
I covered his mouth with my hand. “It’s not enough that you know...you have to let me say it.”
He nodded.
I let my hand drop and sucked in a shaky breath. “You didn’t just leave me, you broke my heart. And your promises. You said you’d always be there for me, that I’d never have to go through what you did with your dad on my own, but that’s exactly what happened—”
My heart constricted, and I gripped his hand tighter the way he had mine.
“Go on,” he whispered. “Don’t stop...please.”
I shook my head. “I woke up and you were gone. The only reason I knew where was because Billy told me, and it shattered me, Luke, even though I so nearly understood why you’d done it.”
“No one understood. Not even me.”
“Don’t. I can’t feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“But you are, don’t you see? Every time I think about how horrific those weeks and months were for you, I push aside what it did to me, and that’s what I can’t keep doing...because it was awful for me too. I’d just about got over you leaving when my mum got ill, and then she died, and you still weren’t here.”
“I’m sorry.”
I barely heard him. Didn’t need to, because I believed him. But that didn’t change anything. Didn’t heal the wounds we’d both carried for so long. I took another deep breath, willing it to cleanse my soul. “I understand why you had to go—all the reasons, not just the money—but I will never understand why you didn’t tell me...not even after. You could’ve sent that letter any time in the last ten years, and you didn’t. Because you didn’t need to. I just—” I stopped. Just what? “I just can’t imagine ever hurting you like that, and that’s why I’ve been so angry with you.”
Luke said nothing. Just turned our hands over and studied my palm. I wanted to shake him, but if the last few months had taught me anything, it was that grown-up Luke sometimes needed a little time.
Something we had now no one was dying and we had nowhere else to be.
He let go of my hand and stood. I wondered if he would leave me again, but he drifted to the window and opened the curtains just enough to stare out at the quiet street. At least I hoped it was quiet. I wasn’t in the mood to watch him play chicken with that car again. The car I’d spent an hour describing, among other things, to the police.
“Luke.”
He didn’t turn.
“Luke.”
“What?”
I got up and came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Whatever you’re beating yourself with, don’t, okay? I said that stuff because I’ve been carrying it for so long, not to punish you. I’m not blaming you for things that happened when we were teenagers. I just—I just needed you to know how I’d felt, so you understood why I am who I am now.”
“I don’t know who you are now.”
“Liar. If you didn’t know me, we wouldn’t be here.”
He chucked dryly. “I never know what to say.”
“Try the truth.”
He finally turned to face me. “The truth is I love you, always have, and I don’t know if I can live with how much I’ve hurt you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke
We talked until dawn about everything and nothing, and by the time we fell asleep, not much had changed. Except everything had. We loved each other. It hadn’t been enough in the past, but perhaps it was now.
Mia’s alarm woke me an hour after we’d knocked out. I rolled over to a face full of her hair, and the never-ending night we’d spent together came flooding back in reverse order.
I opened my eyes to the memory of her broken expression when she’d come outside with the policewoman, and reached for her before comprehending the fierce urge to cage her in my arms and never let go. Her body moulded to mine, her curves fitting to my harder muscle, and I held her tight, breathing her in until she squirmed to turn off her alarm.
“Shit. I have to go.”
I nodded and didn’t try to stop her as she rose from the bed still dressed in last night’s clothes. “I’m coming with you.”
“Seriously? To spend your morning delivering flowers all over the county?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
I absolutely fucking did. Even without the threat to her safety, the thought of being away from her for even a second did odd things to my heart rate. “Shut it, Amour. I’m coming.”
She smirked and left the room to use the bathroom while I changed my clothes.
When she came back, she had wet hair, and damn if my good intentions didn’t fly out the window. Since the night I’d slid my fingers inside her all those weeks ago, barely an hour passed when I didn’t think about how much I wanted her, even when we hadn’t been on speaking terms. Now things were kind of resolved between us, I was hotter for her than ever. I craved her.
Mia laughed and wagged her finger. “Don’t go looking at me like that, matey boy. I’ve got work to do.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“No? So why do I feel like I’m naked already?”
Answering the question would’ve involved contemplating what I’d do if the situation was different. How I’d throw her down and make her scream. I didn’t have the self-control for those images right now, so I settled for a shrug. “That’s your imagination, not mine.”
“Whatever. Get in the bathroom. We need to go.”
Fifteen minutes later, we got in the scarred van and drove out of town to a stately home that had been repurposed as a swanky wedding venue. Sweeping driveway, landscaped grounds, it was the stuff of dreams if you cared about shit like that.
I didn’t, and the Mia I’d grown up with hadn’t either. As we pulled up at the entrance, I wondered if that had changed.
“Still awake?”
“Huh?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “You’re such a zombie without your eight hours.”
“Four, actually. I’m militarily trained to function on fuck all sleep.”
“Interesting.”