He stilled when she didn’t say any more. After a few heartbeats, he moved to stand in front of her and dipped his head to look into her eyes. “Are you telling me your parents don’t give a shit, Faith? I doubt that, very much.”
The rough timbre of his voice caused her to shiver. His gray-blue eyes held her gaze and waited. She hesitated to offer more, but then decided it didn’t matter. After this summer he’d go back to New York and forget all about her. What did she care if he knew? Except he might change his mind about their arrangement and walk away now. Might see just how pathetic she really was and think her too much of a head case.
“Faith?”
For courage, she glanced over his shoulder at the ocean for a few beats before looking into his eyes. “My sister was diagnosed with her illness before I was born. The type of cancer she had caused swelling and tissue damage, primarily on the left side of her body, though in some cases the right can be affected, too. It meant numerous transfusions and possibly even organ transplants down the road. My parents weren’t a close enough match to Hope’s blood type.”
Again, Alec stilled. Realization slowly dawned in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw clenched. “You’re trying to say that—”
“I was conceived for the sole purpose of being Hope’s donor. Siblings are often the best match. I was her replacement parts, except I failed, and she died anyway.”
His jaw dropped. He backed up two steps and stopped. “Jesus.” His hand raked through his thick black hair. “Jesus,” he said again. “I don’t know where to start with something like that, Faith.”
Not understanding his reaction, she stared at him.
He paced away and came back. “Your sister getting sick may have been what brought you into the world, but you’re not anyone’s replacement parts. Your parents—”
“Don’t have a bond with me.” Sensing where this conversation was headed, she lifted her hand to stop him. “They never have. We talk, but we never say anything. Not of substance.”
His hands dropped to his sides. “That’s your guilt talking. And you have nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t up to you to save her. Christ, you were just a little girl.”
This wasn’t why she’d told him. She didn’t need him to try and rationalize the behavior of the two people she’d lived her whole life trying to please. Somehow, in the last few months before moving to Wilmington, she’d realized something. You couldn’t make someone love you, even if those people were the ones who were supposed to love you most. She’d accepted it. She didn’t understand it and she hadn’t gotten over it, but she accepted it.
“It’s not guilt talking, Alec. It’s years of observation.”
He didn’t know the silence of the Armstrong house after Hope died. Even before that, there had been few visitors in Faith’s hospital room when they’d prepped her for Hope’s procedures. All the focus was on her sister, and that’s how it should’ve been. Of course her parents were there, got her settled and situated, moved from room to room when need be, but Hope was the sick one.
She closed her eyes briefly and drew in a lungful of air before opening them again. Alec had stopped pacing and was glaring at her with his arms crossed, feet evenly spaced apart as if bracing for an epic battle. “You’re angry.”
His head reared back and confusion marred his brow. “I guess I am.”
Of all the reactions she’d been expecting, anger wasn’t it. Revulsion. Pity. Shock, perhaps. Those emotions were normal. But anger just made no sense. What did he have to be angry about?
She didn’t know how to do this, to be in a relationship. Even a temporary one like theirs. She knew nothing about friendship or conversation or how to be around people. All she knew was how to connect with disabled kids and teach. This was a mistake, thinking she could be with someone like Alec.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” he said. “You have that look on your face, like you’ve shut down on me, and I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”
A heavy weight settled behind her ribs as she took a step back. “I’m sorry I upset you. Good night.”
His heated gaze lifted from her mouth to her eyes. “Where are you going?”
She pointed. “Back to the house. It’s late.”
“Late,” he mumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He ground out a few choice expletives. “Stay out here for a few minutes, would you? Finish the conversation.”
Faith was finished. Any more and she’d start weeping again. “Good night, Alec.”
* * *
Alec hung up the phone after a lengthy discussion with his editor and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He’d told the publisher to give him two months and he’d turn in the book. He was a little more than halfway through writing the first draft. If he buckled down, he could make that deadline. All things considered, they were pretty understanding about the whole thing.
This morning, Alec had given Cole the first fifty pages of a partial to see if Cole could represent him. At this stage in his career, his agent did little more than act as a buffer for contracts, but Alec didn’t want Cole to represent him out of obligation. He wanted to make sure Cole wanted to do it, not that he had to. Alec could call up any agency right now and have his pick of agents. That wasn’t the point. He wanted someone he could trust, not someone who was in it for the money.
Alec took his beer out onto the front porch and dropped into a chair, thinking about the book launch party in New York next weekend. He’d totally forgotten about it. The last book in his series was coming out next month, and his publicist, in conjunction with the publisher, was hosting the meet and greet. It was an obligation, one he didn’t want to fulfill, but he’d suffer through. After all, it was only one night.
A two-month deadline would whoosh by if he kept at this pace. After Faith’s little bomb on the beach last night, he’d spent his time wearing down the floorboards instead of writing. He hadn’t slept. Barely even shoved food down.
A car door slammed and Alec looked up to find Jake returning from work. Jake walked toward the main house until he glanced over and saw Alec outside. He changed directions and headed his way.
“You want a beer?”
“Naw.” Jake sat down in a chair beside Alec. “Taking a break from writing?”
“Something like that.”
“Uh-oh. You were doing great yesterday. What happened?”
Alec tipped the bottle back and swallowed. “Women, that’s what happened.”
Jake laughed in his easy, languid style. “Already? You and Faith just started seeing each other.”
Alec shouldn’t have mentioned it to Jake, but he needed a sounding board, and very few people knew the whole story of Laura and where he was coming from. Alec stood and walked to lean a hip against the railing.
Alec sighed. “Faith told me . . . something serious last night. Then afterward, she said she was heading to bed. Just like that. I asked her—actually begged her—to stay and talk about it. Nope. She said good night and left me standing there. When was the last time you saw me wanting to get into a heart-to-heart with a woman? Never.”
Rant over, he took a swig of beer and looked at his brother over the bottle. “What are you grinning at?”
Jake shrugged. “You’re falling for her.”
Maybe a little bit. Or all the way.
Hell. Screw that. “I tell you she’s messing with my head and you laugh.”
“Sorry.” Jake looked anything but sorry with his grin still plastered in place. “Is this thing she told you something you can share?”
Alec thought that over and decided it wasn’t a national secret. Jake wouldn’t repeat it anyway. “She told me her parents conceived her to be a donor for her sister.”
There went the grin. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” Alec sat back down and drained his beer. “A lot of things are starting to make sense now. She’s always surprised when I come to see her as if there’s an alternate motive behind my visit, and she tries like hell to be invisible.” He leaned forward and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus, Jake. I think her folks just fucking ignored her. What kind of people do that?”