He wasn’t out the door yet, and he missed Faith.
The pink hue of dawn peeked through her window and the squawk of seagulls told him he’d put things off long enough. They’d said their good-byes last night. There was no need to drag this out and make it harder on her.
Carefully, he slid from the bed and tucked her arm under the sheet. He dressed quietly, watching her, because he couldn’t seem to stop. She was beautiful in a natural way. Without makeup and frills. She didn’t need them. He didn’t have a picture of her—and that was probably a good thing—so he’d take this mental image with him.
He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the little charm he’d bought for her bracelet weeks ago. Even then he’d known. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he’d loved her the second her amber eyes met his that day on the beach.
Striding into the kitchen, he scratched one word onto a piece of paper and headed back to put the note and the charm on her nightstand.
Closing the front door behind him was the hardest thing he’d ever done. A panic attack nearly made him turn around, but somehow he put one foot in front of the other.
He walked across the drive, attempting to let the heat and humidity soak into his bones. The effort was fruitless. He had a feeling he’d never be warm again. When he made it across the mimosa grove and onto the other property, Jake was leaning against the hood of Alec’s car with his arms crossed, eyes tracking his movements.
Alec schooled his voice to resonate a calm he didn’t feel. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, making love to your wife?”
Jake offered a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry. I did. Many times. And I have the whole honeymoon to keep doing it.” He straightened. “I wanted to see you off.” He pulled Alec into a hug that had the air whooshing from his lungs. “I love you.”
Alec gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “Jesus, man. I love you, too.”
Instead of preaching at him like Alec expected, Jake pulled back and smacked his shoulder. “Drive carefully.”
Alec made no promises, and a week later, as he sat in his home office in his New York apartment, thought it was probably a good thing he hadn’t. Alec had almost no memory of the drive back and only a vague recollection of what he’d done to pass time since returning. It was as if someone had vacuumed out his soul. There was nothing left. He should be appreciative for the shocking numbness, but that would take effort.
He knew he’d written the first two chapters of the next book, because they were on the computer screen, but damn if he knew how he’d managed it. It wasn’t a half-bad start either. Only minor tweaking needed.
He’d eaten whatever his housekeeper put in front of him, not that he’d tasted anything. Coffee kept his brain going, because if he stopped drinking it, he’d fall into bed, where the sheets still smelled like her. Which was probably all in his head, because their trip to the city had been weeks ago, yet he hadn’t allowed the housekeeper to change the sheets because . . . shit. They smelled like her.
Sighing, he threw his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He pressed his palms over his eyes. Groaned. Wanted to weep.
Fuck this. What he needed was air and to be outside of these walls. The torment of missing Faith would never cease if he kept this up. He was one step away from being loonier than his characters.
He strode into the living room and stopped. Tilting his head, he examined the creepy as hell room he’d hated since the minute the decorator finished with a flourished wave of her hand.
One by one, he took down the posters and framed covers, tossing them into a pile in the middle of the floor. The sculpture was next. Raising it over his head, he dropped it on the frames, satisfied when the glass cracked and the sculpture shattered. He shredded the cushions on the red couches with a screwdriver and sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily.
Anger was better than feeling nothing. There was production in anger.
Paint. He could change the wall color himself. Yes, he needed paint. A lot of it to cover the dark, slate-gray cavern. Something happy. So fucking happy it made his teeth ache. Like the mint green of Faith’s bridesmaid dress.
Growling, he grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him so he could go to the hardware store. To not buy mint-green paint.
He needed this. A mindless task that involved physical work. Maybe that would eradicate Faith from his head.
Except, as the taxi dropped him off and drove away, Alec stood on the sidewalk facing Laura’s nursing home. A pleasant twenty-bed facility with white trim and shaded by sycamore trees that he had no intention of ever setting foot inside again.
He froze, his joints locking and his limbs nothing but deadweight.
Blackouts and missing time were the first signs of insanity. But no. He wasn’t crazy. He was desperate and lonely and missing home. This was where he was supposed to be, even if his subconscious knew it before he did.
It was time. Long past time.
Nausea rolled in his gut and threatened to choke him as he made his way to the front desk to sign in. The white halls and antiseptic smell were the same, as were the simplistic pictures and the pounding of his heart behind his ribs.
Out of respect for her parents and because visiting would serve no purpose, he hadn’t been here since the day she’d been admitted. He paid the bill once a month and called the nurse weekly, as a formality. Unless they read his books, no one here knew his face.
Her room at the end of the hall was the nicest money could buy, even though Laura would never be able to open her eyes and see it. Pink curtains shielded the harsh sunlight coming from the window just feet from her bed. Against the wall were beeping monitors and a pump bringing oxygen to her lungs. Cards and stuffed animals dotted every square inch of available space.
He stood just inside the doorway until he could force his feet to move to her bedside. The short, wispy strands of blond hair had grown out to shoulder-length—gone were the dyed pink tips she’d preferred. The luscious curves that had first drawn him to her were withered to an almost skeletal state. They had her dressed in a blue blouse she would’ve hated and a loose pair of white pants. A capped IV was in one arm and a catheter bag hung on the opposite bed rail.
Because his legs could no longer hold him, he sat on the side of the bed by her hip and lifted her cool hand. He swallowed hard, taking in the tracheotomy tube protruding from her windpipe.
“Hey, Laura. It’s been a long time.”
Of course, she didn’t respond, but talking to her gave him an odd sort of comfort. He rubbed circles in her palm with his thumb, remembering she used to like that small touch. Her fingernails were neat and clean. Before her accident, she was always elbow deep in acrylics while working on a canvas. It was strange, seeing her hands without at least some dried paint around the cuticles.
“Jake got married. I went home for the wedding. You would’ve hated it. Elegant and traditional. It was really nice, though.”
He sighed and gathered his wits to tell her everything. She may not be able to hear him and understand, but that didn’t make the telling any easier on him.
“I met someone in Wilmington. Her name’s Faith and she’s really quiet. I know, a total contrast from you, but we . . . fit somehow. She has this crazy way of drawing out the best in people. Somehow, she found some good in me.”
His breath hitched and his voice cracked, sending tears pouring down his face. “I tried not to fall for her. Honest, I did. But she’s so damn lovable.” He wiped his eyes, but more tears came anyway, so he gave up. He felt like his chest was cracked wide open, splitting his ribs and exposing all the ugliness inside. “Even my dad loves her. But, Christ. Her own damn parents don’t. I know we complained about ours a lot, but hers take the cake. They made her believe she was invisible. I mean, she did nothing but love them and give them everything she had, and they just . . .”