Their conversation tonight had been heavy and stressful. She was being shallow and needy by thinking about sex at a moment like this. It was just that . . . she did need him. In so many ways. Sex had always been the most natural and comfortable way to express her inexplicably strong need for him.
He walked to the opposite side of the bed. She kept herself from rolling over to face him, ashamed of her desire. Repressed air made her lungs burn. He shut out the light, and she felt the mattress give beneath his weight. He scooted toward her. A ragged sigh left her throat when she felt his arms go around her. Clamping her eyes tight, she curled into him, her back against his chest, his groin pressing to the lower curve of her ass. For several taut moments, they didn’t move or speak. Alice’s throat felt so tight, she wasn’t sure she could.
“What am I going to do?”
She gasped, half in shock she’d said the desperate words out loud. The question had been repeating in her brain over and over, but she hadn’t planned to utter it. Dylan rubbed her upper arm in a slow, soothing gesture.
“You’re going to keep moving forward, one day at a time. One hour. One minute, if need be. We both are. You go for the genetic testing on Saturday. That’s another step in the process. Maybe next week, if you’re interested, you could start to look at Alan’s will and the details of his estate, get a grip on how he planned for Addie’s potential return. I could have someone from the legal department come over and guide you through the trust, if you like. It’s an airtight but complex document. Alice?” he prompted when she didn’t respond.
“I don’t know,” she said brokenly. “It feels too soon for that.”
It’ll always feel like it’s too soon. It always feels like it’s too much. I have to move forward, despite all of that.
“I think what I’d like to start with for now is reviewing more of Durand’s annual reports and getting a firm handle on the company’s history and structure,” she said. “That’d feel a little less . . . personal.”
“If you think it’d help.” He kissed the side of her neck. She felt him inhale with his nose pressed against her skin.
“Dylan?”
He made a deep humming noise.
“I’m not sure I’m as convinced as you are that someone hired Stout and Cunningham. But given that you believe it, do you really think that whoever it was could still be around? Is that why you’re so protective of me?”
“Yes. And yes,” he said against her neck.
“But even if that were true, they couldn’t possibly know that I was . . . you know. Addie.”
“Listen to me,” he said abruptly close to her ear. His voice was quiet, but she recognized that steely tone. “I don’t have the full picture. There are parts missing. I’ve been over and over Alan’s original will and his current will and trust document. I can’t figure out a monetary motive—then or now. The truth about your identity will eventually come out when you’re ready. We have to prepare for it in the next few weeks. In the meantime, I’m still trying to figure out who would have had a motive for kidnapping and killing Addie. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a potential threat out there. It was only twenty years ago. Twenty years. If someone wanted you dead once, there’s good reason to assume they’d want it again. If that person was once associated with Cunningham, there’s no reason Cunningham couldn’t have told him what he told me. There’s no telling who Cunningham dribbled the truth out to at the end of his life. It’s not like he considered me special. I merely served a purpose to inflate his ego. Talking to me was a diversion from the boredom of prison life. Who else visited him? Did he confess to another prisoner? I’m not just being paranoid, Alice. If you take anything away from tonight, please let it be that.”
She turned, stunned by his intensity.
“Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . Alice Reed’s life is a lot simpler than Addie’s,” she said shakily, guilt sweeping through her at the memory of how she’d constantly needled and defied him in regard to his protective measures. It was easier to do, before she’d taken her first steps on the long journey of accepting she was Addie Durand.
He exhaled and pressed his forehead against hers. “I know. I understand. Will you please promise not to try to avoid Sal and Josh while you’re down at the camp?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He kissed her mouth, deep and sweet, and she felt him stir against her backside. “It’s been a rough night. Go to sleep,” he whispered hoarsely after a moment.
“But . . .”
“Go to sleep,” he repeated. She turned her cheek into the pillow, her mind and body awhirl.
“Alice?”
“Yes?”
“I can only imagine how hard this is for you. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
She closed her eyes. Her world still felt off-kilter, but repeating Dylan’s words again and again in her head kept her steady.