“Thanks. I think I’d just as soon have the quiet.”
They ate in silence, Tolstoy purring contentedly between them on the couch. After the turmoil of the day, it felt slightly surreal to be doing something as mundane as eating eggs in her living room. She stole a glance at Wade, absently munching his toast, and thought about the way he had threatened to expose Ray if he so much as blinked in Iris’s direction. She had never believed in white knights, but at that moment, Wade had become one. Tomorrow she would have to call Rhetta and make her understand the impossibility of what she was asking, but for now, it was enough to simply eat her eggs and not think about tomorrow.
When she had eaten her fill, she carried the dishes to the kitchen, then returned to fold up the trays. Wade lay slumped against the arm of the couch, head lolled back against the cushions. She stood looking at him, taking him in detail by detail, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the dusky stubble shadowing his jawline, the way the tiny lines around his eyes went smooth when his face was relaxed.
As if he could feel her there, his eyes opened, heavy lidded and golden. He said nothing as he looked at her. Neither did she, pinned by his gaze and the unsettling whirl of emotions that suddenly crept over her: warmth, gratitude—and trust. It was unfamiliar ground for her, and yet it couldn’t be denied. Somehow, while she wasn’t paying attention, this man had become part of her life, her safe port in a storm.
“Thank you,” she whispered, easing down beside him. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today. Or through any of this really. I’ve never been good at letting people in, but somehow you’re here, and I’m glad.”
“I’m glad too.”
She didn’t resist this time when Wade reached for her hand and turned it palm up. She watched as he traced a finger over the trio of small scars then softly touched his lips to them.
“I’m sorry you’ve been through so much, but I’m glad you felt you could share it with me. In case no one’s ever told you, you’re quite remarkable.”
The words had a strange effect on Christy-Lynn, as if some invisible lock somewhere had suddenly sprung open, a sense of letting go, in this moment at least, of the fears that had kept her in check until now. But then there had always been an inevitability to this moment, a bone-deep knowing that there would come a time when what lay between them would be forever changed.
She groped for something to say, for some quick words to fill up the moment, to check the reckless direction of her thoughts. When she couldn’t think of anything, she kissed him, tentatively at first, and then more deeply, unspooling all the pent-up emotions of the day. He felt warm and solid, safe. It was a heady mix—and a frightening one. And yet she felt herself yielding to it, reaching for the thing she’d been holding at bay for so long.
It was Wade who broke away, an abrupt severing that left Christy-Lynn feeling suddenly unmoored. She stared at him, dazed. “What . . .”
“This is a bad idea, Christy-Lynn,” he said evenly, holding her at arm’s length.
“Why?”
“Because you’re tired and you’re emotional. And because I’m afraid you’re confusing gratitude with something else right now.”
“I’m not.”
“I think you are. You might not remember, but the last time we went down this particular road, you made it abundantly clear that you weren’t ready. And I made it clear that I don’t want to be the guy who takes advantage of a friend. I don’t think either of those things have changed, do you?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I wish I did. But I know I want to be with you tonight.”
“Christy-Lynn . . .”
“Stay.”
“I shouldn’t.”
She leaned in, past the wavering defense of his outstretched arm, and gently grazed his lips. “Please.”
With that simple word, all Wade’s reservations seemed to fall away. His arm went round her, pulling her tight against him, his mouth moist and hungry as it closed over hers. After a moment, he pulled back, breath coming hard as he probed her gaze one last time. “You’re sure?”
“I’m not sure of anything, except that I want this . . . want you . . . now.”
Neither spoke as Christy-Lynn led him to her bedroom. Her hands trembled as she loosened her robe and let it slip from her shoulders. The seconds ticked heavily as she stood there, naked and trembling in the wash of moonlight from the open window, reveling in the feel of Wade’s gaze moving over her.
And yet there was a prickle of indecision too, a tiny voice reminding her that it wasn’t too late to stop this. Now, before things went too far. Was she testing herself? Testing Wade? Or was it only forgetfulness she craved, a place to hide for the night, as she had once hidden herself in Stephen? She didn’t know the answers, but suddenly it didn’t matter. She was reaching for him and he for her. There was no more time for second-guessing.
The contact came as a shock at first, all warm skin and hard angles against her bare flesh. She heard Wade’s sharp intake of breath and knew he felt it too. They had crossed that line, that fraction of an instant when it was still possible to retreat. She was clinging to him now, breath held, head thrown back, surrendering to the dizzying assault of his mouth along the ridge of her collarbone, the hollow at the base of her throat. Slowly, maddeningly, he teased his way up to her lips.
Christy-Lynn rose on tiptoe to meet the kiss, unable to ignore the sweet ache spreading through her limbs. She breathed his name and heard hers in return. A plea. A promise. And then suddenly they were falling, spilling onto moonlit sheets, a tangle of straining limbs and unleashed need.
They lay quietly afterward, touching but not talking, slick but sated in a tangle of damp sheets. Christy-Lynn lay with eyes closed, listening to the thrum of blood in her ears. Beside her, Wade’s breathing was deep and even as he drifted toward sleep, the warmth of their lovemaking still radiating from his skin. He had touched her in a way she’d never been touched before, as if he’d been given a key to all the hidden places she’d been guarding so carefully, had broken her open and laid her bare. And now, as she lay reliving each exquisite moment, she knew she had made a terrible mistake.
It was only a matter of time before Wade knew it too. She’d been willing but not ready, desperate to believe things had changed, that she had changed. But it wasn’t true. The day’s events had dredged up her past like slime from the bottom of a stagnant pond, a glaring reminder that trust was a dangerous thing. Her mother. The Hawleys. Stephen. A trail of betrayal and broken promises. And now there was Wade. Except, in Wade’s case, she was the one likely to prove dangerous, weighed down with emotional baggage and a flight risk by nature.
Without warning, Charlene Parker’s face appeared, floating behind her closed lids like a specter on a movie screen. Dar’s words were there too, disembodied in the darkness. Let the memories catch up to you . . .
Perhaps it was time she did just that.
She waited until she was sure Wade was asleep before pushing back the covers and easing the bottom drawer of the nightstand open. In the moonlight, the envelope glowed an eerie white. She took it out, hesitating only a moment before grabbing the clothes she had discarded earlier and slipping out of the room.
In the kitchen, she scribbled a hasty note and left it on the table. There was no nice way to explain leaving him in the middle of the night, but she had to say something.
Wade—
You were right. I wasn’t ready. I’m so sorry—about everything. There’s something I have to do. Please forgive me.
CL