Fuck. Driven by something stronger than him, he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and sensually, unlike he’d ever kissed another woman. He took the kiss deeper, held her more tenderly, hoping to show her how special she was, how much he wished he could carry her inside and make love to her. And yeah, that shocked the hell out of him because it would mean she’d see his leg, but those feelings were as real and present as the gorgeous woman in his arms.
When their lips finally parted, she sighed dreamily, making what he had no choice but to say even more torturous. He gazed into her eyes, hating himself as he forced the words to come. “I want you, Jules. I need you to know that. I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you right now. But I’m not a reckless kid willing to take what he wants and walk away, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake. Not anymore, and definitely not with you.”
Confusion swam in her gorgeous eyes.
“I’m sorry, Pix. But you should go before we do something we’ll both regret.”
With a nod, she walked wordlessly off the porch. He followed her down the driveway and watched as she drove into the night, consumed by the strange sensation that she’d taken a huge fucking piece of him with her.
He made his way back up to the porch, the silence rattling like chains in his head. He picked up the crumpled papers, unable to stop thinking about the sadness in her eyes as she’d turned to leave. He walked inside, glancing at the papers, and was shocked to see pages filled with information about amputees and redeployment, the military process, civilian contractors, and charities, all with swirly handwritten notes in the margins.
He sank down to the couch with his heart in his throat and a crushing feeling in his chest. Crash jumped up on the couch beside him and laid that soggy, sparkly green bow on Grant’s thigh. He meowed and rubbed his head against Grant’s side.
He stared at the papers, and Jules’s voice whispered through his head. Maybe that will help you figure out a plan.
Nobody on the island wanted to hear him say he’d give anything to get back out there and fight. Jules had not only listened, but she’d embraced his hopes and practically handed him a plan on a silver platter, making him feel even more like an asshole for asking her to leave.
Chapter Nine
AFTER ANOTHER SLEEPLESS night, Grant parked in front of his childhood home, his mother’s stately seven-bedroom waterfront captain’s home overlooking Silver Harbor. He took in the manicured lawns his father continued to tend to and the impeccable gardens his mother maintained. His parents had more money than they could ever spend, but they’d always cared for their own personal properties without hired help, including their private dock out back. As he climbed out of his truck, memories from his youth assaulted him.
He could still see his mother, Margot, with her fair hair cut just below her chin, the way she continued to wear it, kneeling in the dirt, weeding the garden as Grant and his friends raced around his younger siblings in the yard. His father, Alexander, would be mowing the lawn or trimming bushes. With his thick dark hair that was now silver at his temples, broad shoulders, and chiseled features, his father had always had a commanding presence and appeared as distinguished as royalty, whether he was doing lawn work in a pair of expensive shorts and a polo shirt, or having drinks on the patio or on the boat with the Remingtons and Steeles while the kids created havoc around them. He could hear his father’s baritone voice beckoning him and his buddies, Jock, Archer, and Brant, to carry cuttings or doling out life lessons like, You boys see that car coming down the street? As the oldest in your families, you need to stop and look around, see where your younger siblings are, and make sure they’re away from the road.
Grant would never forget the day his father had moved out. He’d taken Grant aside and told him that he and his mother needed some time apart. That his father had to work through some of his issues and that Grant was the man of that house now, and as such, it was his responsibility to take care of the others. That conversation had changed Grant’s life. He’d gone from being a carefree kid who never gave two thoughts to the stability of his parents’ marriage to shouldering the load of the man of the house, and he’d given it his all in an effort to make his father proud.
As he headed up the walk, Jules’s voice came to him for the millionth time that day. Friends and family should be cherished, no matter how annoying or overbearing they are. It might not feel like it right now, but what you have waiting for you in there is special. Not everyone is lucky enough to have people who love them and are willing to fight for them.
Her words were a good reminder that his family shouldn’t take the brunt of his crappy attitude, but damn. He swore when Jules left last night, she’d turned into fucking Tinker Bell and had been riding on his shoulder, whispering in his ear ever since.
He missed her like they hadn’t just become attracted to each other, but like they’d been going out for months. He’d been up all night, wanting to drive to her place and take it all back—except for those mind-blowing kisses. He’d never been completely consumed by kissing before, and he had no idea how that sweet little woman packed so much passion into her kisses, but he didn’t regret them one bit. He did, however, regret hurting her. It cut him to his core, but Jules deserved promises of more, there on her beloved island, from a guy who had his shit together.
He knew he’d done the right thing by putting an end to it. But doing the right thing had never felt so wrong. He’d been off-kilter ever since, as if their connection—or Jules herself—had been the one keeping him centered, even when she wasn’t in the room.
As he headed up the walk, he worried that she might have told Bellamy what had happened between them and braced himself to be given grief over it.
“Hey, asshat, wait up.”
Grant turned as Fitz jogged up the walkway, sharp as always in khakis and a dark sweater beneath his expensive coat, putting Grant’s jeans, Henley, and worn leather jacket to shame. Not that Grant gave a shit about that. His brother had the classic good looks of an aristocrat to go with those expensive clothes, with short blond hair, their father’s aquiline nose, and a chiseled jawline. Grant had never had the focus for academics that Fitz did. Fitz might dick around a lot, but he was brilliant, and definitely the right guy to be next in line to take over the resort.
“Sorry, golden boy. I didn’t hear you pull up.”
Fitz grinned. “You looked like you were zoning out. Everything okay?”
No. I hurt someone I care about who has done nothing but help me, and I’d really like to continue beating myself up for it. “Yeah, I’m good. How about you?”
“Can’t complain,” he said as they walked up the porch steps. “I won a hundred bucks playing pool last night. Want me to lend you twenty for a haircut?”
Grant chuckled. “Keep it up smartass and you’ll need every penny you have to fix that pretty face when I’m done with it.”
He opened the door, and as they stepped inside, they were greeted with the scent of the sea wafting in through an open window somewhere in the house. His mother had a thing for fresh air. Even in the dead of winter, she’d leave a window open because It does a body good.
“Hey! I’m glad you’re here,” Bellamy said as she came down the hall from the kitchen, as stylish as ever in dark jeans and a ruffled white blouse with shoulder cutouts. She was petite, like Jules, and they dwarfed her even though she wore her high-heeled boots.