Preston didn’t try to stop me.
A breeze had stirred up and it hit me in the face when I stepped outside. I sucked in big gulps of it as I made my way the short distance to my car. As I was pulling out of the spot, I glanced in the window and saw Preston standing at the front register paying his bill. He glanced back once and our eyes met through the two panes of glass, and even across the distance, I could still feel that familiar jolt. And just like that, I was home again. I only wondered how much pain I’d endure this time.
**********
Preston
I sat in my truck, still parked on the side of the diner, my head leaning back on the seat, my shaking hands gripping the wheel. Ah, fuck. Fuck. My heart still beat harshly in my chest with the adrenaline surge that was only now beginning to lessen.
Lia. She was back and had waltzed right into Benny’s Diner as if she’d never left. Walked right up to me and demanded to see our son as if she’d stepped away for the weekend, not been gone without a trace for almost six months. Goddamn it. I hadn’t been prepared. A humorless chuckle made its way up my throat and ended in a miserable groan. When had I ever been prepared for Lia? She was still the girl who knocked me on my ass without even trying. And that knowledge left a bitter taste in my mouth, because she’d left and I’d spent six agonizing months trying to figure out where she was, if she was even alive.
I’d finally, finally begun to accept that she didn’t want to be found and as quickly as that, she was back. I swore under my breath. I couldn’t handle this now—I was a grown man with a business to run and a little boy to take care of. Our little boy.
I . . . I’m pregnant. I know you’re probably not very happy about that.
The words skated through my mind, the memory of the way her voice had shook when she’d said them hitting me hard, low down in my gut. I hadn’t known how to respond—how to answer her—because the truth was it had both thrilled me and broken my heart.
I smoothed my sweaty palms over my jean-clad thighs and let out a long exhale. Was she here to stay? Should I even consider trusting her again? Could I? How could I trust that she wasn’t going to be here one day and gone the next? My throat tightened. I couldn’t go through that again. I couldn’t. I’d let her see Hudson, and then I’d make some demands of my own—namely boundaries—so he wouldn’t get attached to her in case she ran off again.
Pain and resentment filled my chest at the memory of discovering she’d left. No note. No explanation. Just . . . gone. I wasn’t blameless. I’d hurt her, as well. But I hadn’t left. I’d stayed, and if she had, too, we could have . . . “Ah fuck,” I muttered, starting up my truck, refusing to go down that road yet again. Refusing to torture myself.
As I headed home, though, my mind kept returning to her, to how she’d looked, to the way I could smell her, even from where she’d stood across the table from me. I’d picked up that light sweetness that was Lia and despite my shock, despite my anger and disbelief that she was there, I’d begun to harden. Thank God the table hid that. My resentment had increased with the proof that I still wanted her so damn badly even after everything. God, I was a fool.
She had looked mostly the same—despite her slightly longer hair and being thinner than when she’d left. But her face was still as breathtakingly beautiful. As if that would change. Lia had the type of beauty that would last until she was ninety. It was as if God had decided to make her lovely and gotten a bit carried away. I’d always felt slightly stunned every time I looked at her, as if I’d never fully get used to her effect on me. Nothing had changed—unfortunately for me.
Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of silken curls, curls I knew the feel of in my grip as I pushed into her tight body.
Stop it, Preston; change direction.
Almond-shaped eyes, slightly slanted and framed by delicate, arched brows and lush lashes. Eyes in a color I’d never seen on anyone before—pale green from a few steps away, but up close, rings of dark blue, light blue, green, and gold. I knew every fleck, every striation in those eyes. I’d marveled at them in the sunlight and the dimness of a starlit night. And they were even more stunning highlighted by the warmth of her bronzed skin.
Full lips with a little beauty mark right at the corner. I remembered fantasizing about licking it when I’d been nothing but a boy. I’d thought about those lips and that small sexy beauty mark as I’d stroked myself in the darkness of my bedroom. I couldn’t help the tiny shiver that moved through me now, though it brought anger on its heels. I wouldn’t allow myself to fantasize about Annalia ever again.
With difficulty, I tore my mind away from the details of her face. I’d only let myself dwell on it for a moment, because it had been so long since I’d seen it. Part of me still had trouble believing she was back—as if I’d fallen asleep for a moment and dreamt her. I allowed myself to go over the details of her face because I needed to deal with reality. I needed to deal with her. And I needed to come to terms with the fact that Lia had always been my weak spot, and apparently, even after her betrayal, that hadn’t changed.
CHAPTER ONE
Annalia – Eleven Years Old
Oh God, it was orange. Bright, brilliant orange. No, no, no. Oh no. I stared at my pumpkin-colored hair in the mirror, the look of stunned horror on my face adding to the effect and making me look twice as ridiculous. Mama was going to kill me. Or worse, she would also give me that look reminding me what a terrible burden I was. My shoulders drooped and I blinked back tears. I’d only wanted to color my hair blonde like Alicia Bardua’s. I pictured the straight, pale cornsilk of her hair and then looked back at the orange Brillo Pad that was now mine, a miserable groan coming up my throat.
A quick glance at the clock set my heart racing. Mama was going to be home soon, and I couldn’t let her see my hair, couldn’t bear to see the ugly look that she greeted me with when she walked in the door. I should be used to it, I guessed, but somehow I wasn’t. It always hurt so much. And I couldn’t take it today. I couldn’t take watching my mama kneel in front of the shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe (La Virgen de Guadalupe—the patron saint of Mexico) and pray that the lady saint ask God to banish the devil from my mama’s life. Me. Not today.