First and Only (Callaghan Brothers #2)

No, as much as she might want to, she could never be the kind of woman Ian needed. He was a free spirit, and she came with far too much baggage. Besides, he was going to have enough responsibility on his hands soon enough. She wondered if Kayla had even told him about the baby yet.

Oh well, it didn’t really matter. Nothing much mattered anymore, except getting the hell out of there before she made a complete idiot out of herself. She could not tell him the truth: that leaving was going to kill her; that she couldn’t imagine one day without him, let alone the rest of her life.

“I’m sorry, Ian. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Where the words came from and the strength it took to say them, she didn’t know.

Ian’s jaw clenched, his blue eyes blazed. Lexi knew that beneath the cotton button-down his body was tensed and as hard as a slab of marble, yet against her skin it would feel warm and unbelievably soft. She had to look at something else before she lost her courage to do the right thing. Her eyes locked onto the I.V. pole, the now-disconnected tubes hanging without purpose. It was exactly the reminder she needed of why this was necessary.

“And this last week was...?”

“Fulfillment of a young, foolish girl’s fantasy.” They were the same words she’d said to him once before. Except it was much harder to say them now, because now she knew for certain that the reality was a thousand times better than the fantasy, no matter what the cost. Given the choice, she would do it all again, without question.

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Ian walked further into the room until he stood mere inches away from where she sat on the bed. He was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him, and oh, how she wanted to feel all that heat against her when she felt so very cold inside. To be held in those arms that would ease the terrible ache in her heart.

“Look at me, Lexi, and tell me that again.” His voice was low and deep, a lover’s caress to her senses.

Lexi couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look into those magnificent blue eyes again or she’d be lost.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, Lexi,” he persisted. “Tell me, and I’ll leave right now.”

Lying was one thing. She could justify the untruths by telling herself it was for the greater good. For a child that needed a father. For a man who deserved a woman who could promise him something other than a lifetime of hospital visits. But to look into his eyes and lie? She didn’t need to worry about God striking her down; her heart would never survive it.

“Ready, Lex?” Aidan appeared in the doorway with a wheelchair, and Lexi felt like she had been granted a reprieve from the hangman’s gallows. Aidan took one look at the two of them and added. “Perhaps I should come back in a few minutes...”

Ian said “Yes” at exactly the same time Lexi said “No”. Aidan paused hesitantly.

“It’s alright, Aidan. We’re done here.”

“Are we?” Ian asked quietly.

“Yes.” This time Lexi had no problem looking into his eyes, because it was the truth.





Chapter Twenty-Two




Seven Months Later

Ian cursed when he saw the big black Expedition snaking its way along the driveway. He briefly considered shutting off the solitary light and leaving by way of the back door, but it would be pointless. Jake already knew he was here, and he was too goddamn old to be playing hide-and-seek.

“You couldn’t tell me you were back?” Jake said by way of greeting as he barged into the room. “I hate it when Shane knows something I don’t,” he griped, plopping himself down on the only piece of furniture in the living room - a soft, comfortable sofa large enough for his big frame. “The smug little bastard. He’s going to be even more full of himself now.”

Ian sighed. Jake sitting down meant Jake was staying for a while. Great. Still, it could have been worse. It could have been one of the others, there to tell him to get over himself already. It was one of the reasons he’d moved out of the Pub and taken up residence here, in Lexi’s grandmother’s place.

When he wasn’t off on suicide missions, that was.

Ian tossed him a cold beer from the fridge. “Never should have showed him how to use the trackers,” he commented. Each one of the Callaghan men had tiny chips beneath the family crests tattooed on their upper arms. It was Ian’s idea. He’d thought it would be good to be able to locate any of them at any given time, given what they did for a living, though he was currently reconsidering the wisdom of that.

“Bad one, huh.”

“Yep.” Of course, they would all know about it by now. Ian had been instrumental in taking out a small terrorist cell in South America, though he had blatantly ignored orders to wait for back-up. His father would probably kick his ass, give him a lecture. Nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times over from all of the well-meaning souls that seemed to think he gave a shit.