He sits down, pulling me onto his lap. I tuck myself into him, the only comfort I have left. I don’t deserve someone as good as him. I don’t deserve anyone.
“It hurts so much,” I sob. “I can’t make it go away.”
“You have to let it go, Lara. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I killed her!”
“No, a bunch of teenagers high on drugs did.”
“If it weren’t for my smart mouth, we would have never even gotten into that mess. You know that. Nothing you can say will change that.”
“Right now, I know that’s what you believe so I’m not going to give you words to try to change it. Instead I’m going to tell you I love you, I believe in you, and I think you’re a good person. One mistake does not define you, beautiful girl.”
“I’m not beautiful, Noah. I’m a monster.”
He holds me close. “You’ll never be anything but beautiful to me. I won’t give up on you, Lara. I’m going to get you through this. I swear it.”
“I know,” I whisper, fighting back the emotion from the memory. “I know you did.”
It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, but it’s the only thing I can think to say.
“That man you were with,” he says, changing the subject. “The night we got taken … it fuckin’ killed me.”
“What man?” I ask, shuffling through my memories to try to figure out what he’s talking about. It’s all a blur. I recall meeting a man at the bar, but it’s all hazy and I don’t recall what we even spoke about.
“The one you were kissing.”
I blink. “Pardon me?”
“You don’t remember?”
I shake my head. “I remember meeting a man while I was waiting for Rachel and having a drink with him, but I still can’t remember anything from after that point. I honestly don’t.”
He curses under his breath. “I thought something was off with you. Fuck, you must’ve been drugged even before the psycho came along.”
“What?” I squeak, voice rising.
“The night we got taken, you were with a guy claiming to be your man. You were playing along, and fuck, I believed it and it hurt.”
I can’t remember anything about that, and frustration bubbles in my chest.
“I don’t … remember.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I go quiet, still digging through my memories to try to figure out what the hell happened. It’s blank.
“That’s why you’re so angry at me.”
It’s not a question, but a statement.
“It wasn’t just that. You disappeared on me. It took me months to find you. When I finally did, you nearly got me arrested. You hurt me, Lara.”
I close my eyes, even though he can’t see it. “You hurt me, too.”
He grunts.
“If we’d had this conversation earlier, we might not be here,” I say, with full understanding that my stubbornness and insecurity quite possibly put us in this situation.
“Don’t,” he warns. “Like I said earlier, if it wasn’t us, it would be someone else. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that isn’t going to change. No point dwelling on the past.”
“I really am sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain.”
“You broke me. You moved out of our home and just walked away, shut down and refused to talk to me. It wasn’t even a real breakup. It messed with my head. I needed to talk to you, and I couldn’t. So I went to training and when I came back and had to get a new place, I told myself I had to accept that we were over. But I just couldn’t move on. I needed to try at least one more time.”
My heart twists.
“I screwed up. Seems I’m good at that.”
He reaches over and surprises me by taking my hand. “Wouldn’t be human if you didn’t screw up. Maybe this is your chance to stop blaming yourself for fucked-up shit other people do, and for not being able to change the past. Because guess what, Lara? No one can. Everyone has regrets but you can’t let them destroy you. You just have to learn from them and do better next time.”
Did it really take us being kidnapped to finally sort through our problems?
I tremble.
“You cold?” he asks.
“No,” I say, my voice low. “I’m terrified.”
He reaches over and effortlessly lifts me onto his lap, nestling me in, putting me against him where I fit so perfectly. His big arms go around me and I press my cheek to his chest. I love this man. I’ve loved him since the first moment I met him. Charming, gorgeous, a little scary. He was my complete opposite, yet we worked in a way that didn’t make sense to anyone but us.
“Do you remember when we first met?” I whisper against his shirt.
His heart beats against my cheek. I love how that feels.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, low. “Fuck, that was the best night of my life.”
I close my eyes on a smile, and remember the moment I laid eyes on him.
“Don’t look now,” Rachel cries. “But there is a super-hot man staring at your booty.”
I flush. “What?”
“Yep, he’s giving you a look like he wants to fuck you right here, right now.”
My cheeks grow pink and I turn, glancing at the man sitting at the bar, eyes on me. I’ve had men look at me in my time, but never like this. His gaze is smoldering and he’s looking at me like he’s about to come over and throw me over his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate as he drags his gaze down my body. Openly. Without shame.
I turn back to Rachel. “Why is he looking at me like I’m a piece of meat? How rude!”
She giggles. “It’s not rude, he thinks you’re hot.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” I huff. “I’m going to ask him to stop.”
“Oh, you do that, just let me get a drink and watch this one play out.”
I take a deep breath and approach the man still staring at me. His mouth twitches when I near and it only makes me angrier. How dare he sit there and openly ogle me. Seriously. I’m not a piece of ass. I could be married, for Christ’s sake. As I get closer, I realize that he is, in fact, extremely good looking. He’s also big, like really big. Muscled and ripped. My throat gets tight as I stop in front of him.
“Excuse me, I’d appreciate if you’d stop staring at me. It’s making my friend and me uncomfortable.”
His lip quirk turns into a grin. “That so?”
“Yes that’s so. It’s rude to stare at women like you want to take them away and eat them alive.”
A full-blown smile now. “Eat them alive? Is that what you want me to do with you?”
I bristle. “It is not. No. I don’t … I don’t…”
A flash of white teeth. “Do I make you nervous, little one?”
“No you do n-n-n-not,” I stammer. God, no one ever makes me nervous and this man is making me stammer? What has gotten into me?
He chuckles. “Cute, aren’t you, honey?”
I flush. “Just stop … stop staring at me.”
“I’m enjoying the view. It’s a free country.”
“It’s rude,” I say, my voice trembling.
He leans in close. “Admit it,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “You’re thoroughly enjoying it.”
“As much as I’d enjoy being poked in the eye with a fork.”
He laughs, deep and sexy. Damn. Damn him.