She wondered if she’d done something wrong or if he regretted giving her the bracelet. Maybe their relationship was hitting too hard and too close to home after getting together with friends. It was hard to tell with him when he got like this, lost in his own head. For all she knew, he was plotting a book.
“Do you want to call it a night and head back to your house? You seem like you need to be alone.”
Slowly, he turned his head and pinned her with those gray-blue eyes. Even in the dark their color was intense. The wind captured his black hair, making him look like a pirate.
His gaze dropped to her mouth before sliding back up to her eyes. “I should say yes. But no, I don’t want to be alone. I want you.” He looked back out at the ocean, a war waging over his face.
At a loss, she stood next to him as worry ate her stomach raw. “Are you okay?”
He nodded absently, then shook his head. “All this talk of babies. Just . . . I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for it, I guess.” He grew silent for a moment. “I should get used to the idea. Lacey and Jake will want kids someday soon.”
Laura’s miscarriage and the pain in his voice when he’d told her what happened kept her silent, fishing for the right words. She only had more questions. “Do you want kids? Of your own someday?” That would mean letting go of Laura and moving on, something she didn’t think he’d be willing to do. Or able.
“I did, once.”
Her heart hurt for him. Guilt was a terrible thing to live with, even if misplaced. But he wasn’t ready to hear that, so she sighed and offered what little she could. “Let’s head inside. I still have a lot of thanking to do.”
He breathed a laugh and looked at her. His smile never reached his eyes. Leaning in, he whispered a kiss to her lips. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
They walked over the dunes and into the house, neither saying anything as they made their way to her bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door.
The sound seemed to kick him into gear, because instantly his hands were at her waist, tugging her shirt up and over her head. His mouth sought hers, hungry and desperate. He fought to take his own shirt off, tossing it across the room. She did the same with her shorts. Panties. His pants. Briefs.
He sat at the edge of the mattress and pulled her to him, his large hands holding her hips and their bare skin connecting. His fingers dug into her flesh as his gaze skimmed over her breasts, her belly. Lower. He sucked in air through his nose, as if trying to center himself. But whatever had him distracted wasn’t easing. Moment by moment his eyes grew lost, until he almost wasn’t in the same room.
When he dropped his forehead between her breasts and whispered her name, she made a vow to do everything she could to help him through his grief. Laura’s accident and the loss of his baby may have been years ago, but he was just dealing with it now. It was entirely possible he was starting to develop stronger feelings for her in their still-new relationship, but didn’t know how to handle them, which only compounded his guilt.
She slid her fingers into his hair with one hand and drew her other arm around his back, holding him to her chest. His arms instantly came around her body and squeezed. Held. She stroked his shoulders, his back. Slow, methodical circles to ease his tension until he was ready to face her again.
A minute or two passed before the wetness of his tears dripped onto her skin, hot and heavy. Silent tears. She said nothing, not wanting to hurt his pride or make him ashamed to cry. He needed to let go. She was just glad she was here when he did. When Hope died, there had been no one to hold her and help her understand. No one to lean on to absorb the endless pain. Her parents were too torn up in their own grief to see anything else. At least, for Alec, she could be that crutch.
He didn’t sob or shake, but his body started to sag against hers and it was becoming harder to hold him. Without a word, she gently encouraged him to scoot back so he was no longer at the edge of the mattress and straddled his lap. She held his head on her shoulder, his face buried in her neck, as his arms banded around her back. He’d stopped crying, but his breathing was shallow as he worked out the rest.
“Christ. I’m sorry, Faith.” He nuzzled her neck and let out an uneven breath.
“You’ve been sorry long enough.”
His head lifted. Brows furrowed, he stared at her.
“So have I. Maybe we should both stop.”
He cupped her cheek and drew in a breath. “I wish I could.”
She did, too, but hopefully that would come in time. “You’re tired. It’s late. Lay down with me?”
“In a minute.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts. There was nothing sexual in the move, just tenderness. His finger traced her scar, low on her belly. “Is this from your surgery?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you? I’ll bet you weren’t scared for a second.”
The problem was, she’d never stopped being afraid.
She climbed in bed and lay back, opening her arms for him to join her. He followed and pulled the sheet over them before tucking her in the crook of his arm. They lay there in the dark as he ran his thumb over her shoulder. Her lids were heavy, her body exhausted, but she wanted to answer him.
“I was thirteen and I was scared. Terrified, actually.” She tilted her head up to look at him. “I’d given her bone marrow and several blood transfusions, but they were going to put me to sleep for surgery. All I could think about was who would help Hope if I didn’t wake up.”
“What did your parents say?”
She rested her cheek on his chest. “They didn’t know. They kept moving between my room and Hope’s, trying to be with us both. I put on a brave front so they could stay with Hope. She needed them more than I did.”
“That’s bullshit.” He turned on his side and faced her, propping his head in his hand. “I’m sorry to say it like that, but it’s true. You may have been conceived to save your sister, but she wasn’t their only child.”
“You’re angry again.” Just as before, she reeled at the frustration rolling off of him. She’d gone from being invisible to mattering so much in such a short period of time. “They did their best by both of us. They died a little when she did. Don’t be angry for me. It’s done. In the past.”
He stared down at her, his lips thin and his eyes fierce. “It’s not done. You’re still donating. Day after day, you’re waiting for them to love you like they did her. That’s their hang-up, not yours.”
“Alec—”
“No. Listen to me. You are not the sum of all your parts, Faith.” His gaze darted over her face, her hair. He tucked a strand behind her ear and sighed, his gaze softening. “You’re so much more than that.”
His words pierced her heart and made her realize that was exactly what she’d been doing. She’d been giving her parents pieces of herself in the hope that they’d love her a smidgen of how much they loved Hope. But if they didn’t by now, they never would. Still, it hurt. So, so bad it hurt.
When would she ever be good enough? She’d let Hope down. She’d let her parents down. Mostly, she was letting herself down. And Alec? He’d leave her behind soon, too. Because it seemed that’s all she was ever good for. A short blip of time until her services were complete.
He flopped to his back and drew her to his side. “I was supposed to be making love to you. Some finish to your birthday this turned out to be.”
The pensive, solemn mood had passed, and the stirrings of need started to swirl within her. Not greed or blind lust, but the need to soothe. To touch and be touched.
She draped her leg over his hips and slid over him. The thickness of his erection grew between their bodies as she stared down at him. He tried to flip her over and take control back, but she didn’t let him. Tonight wasn’t about the climax. It was about the path there.