He wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but he had to ask, "Are you sure? Won’t it wake up your dragon early?"
"I don't think so." She shook her head. "No, it should be fine. Tomorrow, it might be risky. But today should be fine since I only had the shot this morning."
Had it really only been a day?
She ran a hand up to the base of his neck, her nails lightly scratching his skin. "If you want to wait, I understand. I know how you like to be cautious."
Aye, he was that. It was the only way he'd been able to piece his life back together after he'd become sober.
But right there, with Cat looking up at him, the moonlight making her skin glow, he wanted to throw some of that caution to the wind. He murmured, "Promise me you'll tell me if I need to stop, aye? I don't want to cause you any more pain."
She searched his gaze, her fingers stilling on his neck. "Maybe this is the wrong time to ask you, but why do you keep mentioning hurting someone or causing me pain? This isn't the first time."
And just like that, his control slipped back into place. Although he did let his hand linger on her skin, under her top. Partly because he craved the heat, but also because touching her seemed to ground him. "Maybe it's the perfect time because you should know me a wee bit better before any sort of intimacy."
He knew he was becoming formal again, but it helped him to keep it together. Especially when he needed to talk about things he wished he could forget.
Of course, if he ever forgot what he'd done, then Lachlan might end up back at his low point, waking up in some bloody alley somewhere, unsure of how he'd gotten there. His face bruised and bloody, and his memory hazy.
She murmured, "Tell me, Lachlan. Unlike my sister, I can listen."
Her words made his lips twitch. And just like that, his nervousness faded a fraction.
He looked over her shoulder at some undefined bunch of trees and said, "I hurt a lot of people when all I could think about was my next drink. But the worst of it was when I finally reached a tipping point of either I got help, or I lost the last few people I loved forever."
The breeze blew, and he watched a leaf tumble across the clearing. He knew Cat needed to hear the rest, but it wasn't easy for him.
Then her fingers lightly massaged his neck, and he met her gaze again. Even without speaking, her eyes urged him to carry on. And so he did. "After nearly two years of constantly drinking to excess, I had pushed just about every friend and acquaintance of mine away. It's hard to explain addiction, but nothing ever seemed as important as the next fix. It wasn't that I liked alcohol so much as I needed it. As my tolerance increased, so did my amount consumed per night.
"My sister, Sarah, tried to keep me in her life the longest. For all intents and purposes, we didn't have a father, even though he was alive at the time. And our mother refused to leave him to live with either of us, no matter that he kept beating her. In a strange way, Sarah and I were our own little team. We'd always looked out for each other growing up and somehow always knew when the other needed cheering up.
"But the more I was consumed with drinking, the less I returned her calls. I even missed her engagement party and forgot to RSVP for her wedding.
"The day before her wedding, she found me in a pub and dragged me home to talk. She said my behavior needed to stop, that I needed help, and that if I couldn't realize it, then maybe she should stop trying."
He paused, the blurry image of his sister pleading with him to listen flitting through his mind.
He'd made it right—mostly—over the last ten years, but it still hurt to remember what came next.
He closed his eyes, embracing the shame and regret that coursed through him. He'd never shared this memory with anyone outside of his recovery meetings. There he'd felt safe sharing with others who had their own pain and regrets.
But Cat was so much purer and kinder, and the opposite of him in just about every way.
And he craved to have that sort of peace and happiness in his life.
However, the truth might drive her away.
Still, he had to finish telling her this. He owed it to her, and more importantly, he needed to be strong enough to face it all again. Otherwise, he wasn't in a good enough place to become a father or try for a relationship.
He finally whispered, "I don't remember exactly what I said to my sister that night, but I remember the instant fear filled my sister's eyes as her gaze darted from my face to something at the side. And it was in that moment I realized I'd raised my hand as if to slap her."
His throat choked up, but he forced himself to keep going. "I became my father that night. I was about to hurt someone I love for saying something I needed to hear, or maybe didn't want to hear."
"Oh, Lachlan."
Not wanting to break down, he kept his eyes closed so he couldn't see Cat's face and said, "I still don't know how I managed it, but I turned away and braced myself against the wall as I told her I was sorry. And when she asked one last time if I'd get help, I finally said yes."
He opened his eyes again, but Lachlan looked at some point in the distance rather than Cat's gaze. He wasn't quite ready for the pity, or anger, or disgust. He wanted to finish first.
"And I did get help, and I've been clean for just over ten years. But to this day, my sister still won't let me watch my nephews for more than a few hours. She's forgiven me, but I broke our relationship, our little team, back on that day I nearly hit her. And I live every single day fearing I'll become that monster again."
He finally met her eyes, wondering why it was free of disgust or pity. Cat was usually such an open book, but in that moment, he couldn't judge her expression.
Regardless, he wanted to give her an out. "This is who I am, Cat, and why I keep saying I don't want to hurt you. Because given my track record, I might do exactly that. And even though it'd kill me inside if I ever did, you need to know why I'm so careful all the time."
As she studied his face, Lachlan's heart beat double-time.
It was one of those rare moments in life, one that would change everything.
So he waited to see which way it'd go.
It'd taken everything Cat had to not start crying as Lachlan shared his story. The disgust, and pain, and self-loathing as he recounted the memory was evident in his voice.
When he finished and looked at her again, he all but said she shouldn't bother with him. Well, maybe not quite in those terms, but he clearly wasn't expecting her to fight for him.
And even though they'd only started to become close in the last few days, she wanted to be there when he laughed more freely, when he let go a little to tease her, or even maybe to teach any child of theirs how to ride a bicycle.
He was a male who'd grown up in a broken home, had tried to deal with it, and failed until he faced his greatest fear—becoming his father.
The descent was easy, but coming back from it, fighting tooth and nail to be better, was so much harder. He had great strength within him, and somehow she didn't think Lachlan realized it.
She moved her hand from his neck to his jaw and gently traced it. She murmured, "I think you're careful because you want to stay sober, aye. But I also think it's because you've isolated yourself and have so much time to dwell on what you could become again." He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it. "I'm not saying you'll wake up one day and instantly forget about what you've done, or not ever fight the urge to drink again. However, if you had someone—or someones—in your life constantly, helping to make new memories to replace the old, you might dwell on your fear less and focus more on what you have in the present."