“It’s my fault. I showed up here, and—”
“No. You’re perfect. I’m glad you came. I had a great time until I freaked out.”
“You must have really hated kissing me,” he teased.
She knew he was just lightening the mood, but it still made her want to cry. “I’m pretty sure that was the kiss of a lifetime.” She lowered her eyes, unable to look at him as she said, “But I need some space.”
“Cait—”
“Please don’t try to talk me out of this,” she interrupted. Before she could chicken out, she forced herself to look him in the eyes. “My life is crazy, going back and forth from here to there, and I’m pretty messed up when it comes to relationships. You’re an amazing guy, and you deserve to be with someone who’s equally wonderful.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not okay with this, Cait.”
“I’m not sure I am, either, but it’s what I need, and trust me, it’s what you need, too.”
He shook his head, those blue eyes filling with sadness. “What about Scrap?”
She lowered her eyes. “He doesn’t need this chaos, either. He deserves a stable life, and he’ll have that with you.”
Brant stepped closer and gently lifted her chin. “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, it doesn’t scare me, Cait. I want to be here for you and help you navigate whatever’s got you so shaken up. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I hear you.” Tears threatened, and it took everything she had to hold them back. “But please give me space.”
He stared at her for so long, her lower lip began trembling. She gritted her teeth.
He finally relented. “If this is what you need, then I’ll back off. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you, so when you’re ready to let me in, or if you just need someone to lean on, I’ll be there. If you change your mind tonight or you don’t want to be alone, I’m ten minutes away until morning.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “We’ll miss you, angel. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Please don’t,” she said regretfully. “It’s too hard.”
His shoulders sank and his jaw tightened, but he headed to his rental truck, his every step slicing through her chest until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Brant!” flew from her lips without any thought.
He turned with hope in his eyes.
She wanted to run to him, to tell him she’d made a mistake, that she wanted his help more than she’d ever wanted anything. But she couldn’t do it, wouldn’t put him through that, and instead she asked what she desperately wanted to know. “Why me?”
A thoughtful smile lifted his lips, and he patted his hand over his heart. “Because when you know, you know.”
Tears slid down her cheeks as he climbed into his truck. She hurried inside before she could run after him and leaned her back against the door, her body aching like she’d run a marathon. She heard him drive away and slid down to the floor engulfed by sobs, the skeletons of her past breaking her heart into a million jagged pieces.
Leaving Cait went against every fiber of Brant’s being, but he knew to earn her trust he had to respect her wishes. He called Gunner on his way back to the marina to let him know that she was home safe, and then he paced on his yacht for half an hour before finally giving in to the urge to drive back to her place. He didn’t have a plan. He just wanted to be nearby in case she needed him.
As he drove down her street, he saw a truck in front of her house. He slowed as he drove past it, and Tank looked over from behind the wheel. Fuck. Had she called him? He parked in front of Tank’s truck, certain her monstrous boss was going to give him hell. But there was no way he was going to back down or leave. He left Scrappy in the truck and went to face Tank.
Tank watched him intently as he approached. Before Brant could get a word out, Tank said, “Did Cait ask you to come back?”
“No. I just wanted to be nearby in case she needed anything. Did she call you?”
Tank shook his head, eyes serious. “Gunner told me what went down. I’m here for the same reason you are. You want to climb in? Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”
As much as Brant wanted to be the guy Cait went to when she was in trouble, he wasn’t sure she’d ever let him, and he was glad she had someone she trusted watching out for her. He and Scrappy sat with Tank all night. Brant didn’t ask about Cait’s demons, and Tank gave nothing away. They made small talk about non-Cait-related topics.
Brant was thankful for the distraction, because every minute that passed was another minute Cait hadn’t changed her mind. When morning came, he didn’t want Cait to feel pressured by finding him there. He headed back to the marina at five and caught a few hours of sleep. For the first time since he was a boy, he dreamed of being saved by the mermaid, only this time it was Cait’s face he saw on the nautical beauty as she pushed him to the surface. He took a breath and dove in again, searching for her, but she disappeared into the depths of the deep blue sea.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRANT STOOD AT the helm of his yacht at the Harwich Port marina at nine o’clock the next morning with the engines running, fighting the urge to go see Cait. He pulled out of the harbor and started the long journey home. But the farther he went from shore, the more he felt like he’d left a big part of himself behind.
He thought about texting her a hundred times on the way home, each time recalling the sadness in her eyes when she’d asked him not to reach out. Respecting her wishes fucking sucked.
Back on the island, he walked Scrappy and headed into the boathouse. His buddy Grant Silver was sanding the bow of a boat. Grant was an artist and ex–covert operations specialist. He’d lost his left leg from the knee down during a mission about two years ago and had returned to the island last summer. He’d been as angry as a snared bear before their friend Jules Steele, who was now Grant’s fiancée, found her way into his heart and helped him find his way out of the darkness. Last winter, Grant founded the Silver Lining Foundation, Resources for Amputees, and he helped Brant when he needed a break from his real work.
Grant saw him approaching and turned off the sander. He pushed his mask below his beard, flicking his chin to get his collar-length brown hair out of his eyes, and gave Brant a scrutinizing once-over. “You don’t look like a guy who just got laid. You okay?”
“Stayin’ alive, man. Just stayin’ alive.” When they were younger, their friends had called them the Bee Gees, and Brant couldn’t resist referencing one of their songs to try to lighten his own mood.
“Oh yeah? You want to do some jive talkin’?”
Loving that Grant was playing along, he said, “Only if you know how to mend a broken heart.”
Grant chuckled at the song reference he’d gotten wrong. “That depends. How deep is your love?” He laughed, but Brant was all out of levity. Grant set the sander down and scooped up Scrappy. “That bad, huh?”
“Pretty damn bad.” Brant unhooked Scrappy’s leash and set it on a workbench. “She sent me away.”
“What? She sent the prince of Silver Island packing? That’s gotta hurt.” Grant nuzzled Scrappy. “Did your papa cry the whole way home?”