Let Me In, page 27
“So, you want an exchange then. An exchange of trust, so to speak.”
“No, I already trust you. I’ve always trusted you with my life. Now I trust you with far more fragile parts of me, possibly the only vulnerable part I have.”
“Derek—”
“You’ll do with that what you will, Tate. And I won’t hold it against you either way. You didn’t ask for it, it doesn’t work like that. It’s just yours.” He smiled then, she could feel it. “Which could be the best gift ever, or the worst. You’ll have to be the judge. But just because it’s given freely, doesn’t mean it will be accepted. That’s the risk part. I can’t control that. I can only hope for the best.”
“I know,” she said, feeling every word he said resonate deep inside of her because she identified with each one. How terrifying was that? But, as he said, there was no choice for it. Risk already taken.
“Good,” he said, and there was such warmth in his voice, such…happiness. And it was such a wondrous thing, knowing she’d been the one who’d caused it. She was amazed that she had the power. Then immediately, the full importance of the risk sunk in. She had the power to please, which meant she had the power to hurt.
And so did he.
“About the other,” he went on, “I’m not blackmailing it out of you. I want you to want to tell me. And I can wait for that. I don’t care when, and it certainly doesn’t have to be now. I’m going to tell you my part, because I need to, because I can’t go further without telling you. I’ll wait for yours until you feel the same. And hope that, at some point, you will.”
“Patience hasn’t exactly been a virtue. For either of us.”
“I can stick this one out.”
“You won’t have to,” she said, already knowing it was true. Suddenly it seemed silly, the secret life she’d been harboring. What he thought of it mattered to her in that she wanted his respect, but beyond that, she trusted that he’d listen, then handle the information in whatever way she asked him to. “What you saw on the screen—”
“Wait,” he said.
“I trust you, Derek.”
“Do you want me to know? Because you’re bursting at the seams to share?”
She thought about that, and realized that while it might sound like he was splitting hairs, he really wasn’t. She could give him what he’d asked for, merely as a show of trust, knowing he’d handle it, a secret safely shared. But that wasn’t what he was asking for at all. It wasn’t a test she had to pass. She’d already passed whatever test there was in the choosing of a partner, just based on who she was to him. No, he was asking for something far more elemental, and it wasn’t something she could fabricate. She either had to feel it, or not. She could choose to share the feeling or not, but she couldn’t choose feeling it.
“I get it,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “I truly get it.”
“And?”
“And, I don’t know.”
There was only the briefest of pauses. “Okay.”
She laughed a little. “It’s so not okay, but you don’t have a choice, I know that, and I’m sorry. But honesty is imperative to me, and I’d think it would be mandatory for someone like you.”
“Yes, someone like me would like to think that someone like you would never be anything but honest.”
“Was that part of the thing? From your past? Honesty, loyalty?”
“No,” he said.
“Okay.” She felt better about that.
“I would expect it regardless, from anyone. If I didn’t have that from you, I wouldn’t be here, talking to you like this. So, I may not like it, but never shy away from speaking it.”
“I won’t. And…with my thing…it’s—I could tell you right now, but it would be more an act of bravery, and I’m very good at being brave. Proving to myself and you that I can. Because I do trust you, and I know now that telling you will be fine. But that’s not what you’re asking of me, and I get that. So, to do it now…it seems more about proving something than sharing something I’m excited and giddy about and want to run and tell you about because I can’t wait to share.”
“You have it exactly right.”
“Then you’ll have to wait.” She reached up and cupped his face. “Not because I can’t, or don’t want to, but the moment has to be mine. And this moment…this one is yours. Does that make sense?”
He tugged her up, so his lips were brushing hers. “Yes,” he said quietly, almost reverently. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Getting it. Getting me. And waiting so you can have your moment. You deserve that.”
“We both do.”
“Yeah,” he said, then sighed. “Mine isn’t going to be—”
“Shh,” she said, brushing a kiss against his lips. “I know. But you need to. And I need to know. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”
What was surprising her most, was that she was traversing the path into this new, uncharted territory, and while it was both scary and exciting, it was also not so daunting or mystifying. She hadn’t known how she’d act, or if she’d feel awkward or lost. But she didn’t feel lost at all. Which was kind of wild, because she’d always felt perfectly fine, just with herself, by herself, for herself. But, lying here in his arms, feeling his heartbeat, the warmth of his body, his deep voice…she’d never felt less lost in her life. And never more at home.
“We can save all of this for later,” she said, knowing she’d sleep now. Knowing they both would. “It’s been a really long day, and maybe just knowing we will talk about it is enough for now.”
“Now is better,” he said, surprising her a little. She’d thought he’d take the out, for now, enjoy their newfound bond. But he sounded almost…anxious.
“Okay.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she said, knowing it was the truth. He needed her now. Now is when she’d be there for him.
He slid his fingers into her hair, tucked her head so it was snuggled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. His fingers lightly massaged her scalp, then toyed with her hair, but she’d bet the actions were more to soothe him, than her. Which was another thing that made her feel good, that he instinctively reached for her to be soothed.
“I was married once,” he said, “and we had a son.”
She went completely still, and her heart squeezed tightly, knowing what was coming, even before he said it. She’d been expecting…something. Something bad, something tragic, so why this stopped her heart, why this caught her so badly off guard, she didn’t know.
Tears were already burning, and had he been anyone else, had she been at all capable, she would have scrambled down off the bed and raced out of the RV and into the woods. Because a second ago it had been all about trust, and soothing, and excitement, and arousal…now it was going to be about pain, and loss. And she’d known it had to be something like that, and was prepared to soothe him in whatever way she could—even if she was awkward with it, she’d try her damndest to be there for him.
What she hadn’t counted on, is that the one who’d need soothing, who’d hurt just listening to it, would be her.
“He died. He got sick, and he died, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help him, to help her, to hold either one of them. I thought what I was doing was so important, saving the world, and that she was exaggerating, because of course I knew everything, I knew best. So I left her there. Alone. With a sick child, who got very much sicker, very fast. Too fast, too fast for me to do anything, to get back. So, I left her there, alone, to do the hardest thing any human being could ever have to do, to hold her own son—our son…my son—and watch him die. Without me. The only other person she had. The one who would never let her down. I let them both down, I let me down. I—I let my son down.”
She instinctively clutched him to her, and pressed her lips against his neck. They were wet, and she realized the tears were her own. She never cried. Never, not once. Not during her entire time in captivity, not during her entire time in rehabilitation. But he clutched her right back, and held on tight, and she felt his chest quake, felt his trembling lips press against her hair, and she cried. Hot streaks burned down her cheeks, and they wouldn’t stop coming.
And that’s when she realized the true meaning of having the power to hurt. Because she was just hurting for him, and it was almost unbearable. She couldn’t imagine the pain and anguish of him hurting her directly, even if he didn’t mean to, if he couldn’t help it, if he had no choice.
And she held on to him, more terrified than she’d ever been in her life. Held on to him…and she shook, and she cried. For him, for his dead son, for the loss of his family, and for herself. Because he was both the only thing that could soothe that pain, that stark terror…and the only one who could cause it.
What in the hell had she done?
Chapter 20
What had he done?
He’d made her cry. And not just little tears of sympathy…she was brokenhearted with them. And she was breaking his heart with them, too. What in the hell had he done?
“Tate—”
“Don’t,” she whispered raggedly. “Just…let me hold on. You…hold on.”
So he did. And, with her wrapped tightly around him, crying for him, his own tears came. Finally. He’d raged, at the world, at himself. He’d been numb, he’d drowned in the pain. He’d been everything, done everything…except this. It had been a long, long time ago…but it was forever yesterday in his heart. He’d made sure he was the best at what he did, best in the field, best leader, best strategist, best trainer. He risked his life, and those of the men and women he commanded, but he made damn sure they were as prepared to deal with what the mission handed them as they could be.
What he didn’t do, what he never did again, was let himself care. About the mission, about his people, their safety, yes…but not with his heart, not with the part of him he couldn’t control. If he never loved like that, he couldn’t hurt like that, destroy like that. Like he’d destroyed his family. He was so busy saving the world, he couldn’t save his own family.
It was too late. For all of it. When he got back. It was too late.
But he’d learned. Learned he wasn’t going to take a risk like that again. And he would find balance, find time to put the job in perspective, if it killed him. He’d take time away, so he understood the balance necessary. For himself, for his job, for his team. Everyone would benefit if he understood balance.
But he never saw himself falling in love again. Even with that understanding, he never saw himself taking the risk. He’d pour himself into the thing he knew he did well, and he’d take his harshly, so harshly learned lessons, and apply them there. And to himself. But he wouldn’t risk another person, not intimately. And he sure as hell wouldn’t risk a child. He knew himself. He was a crusader, he wanted to save the world. And if it meant finding balance within, he’d do that in order to do what he did to the best of his ability.
Then that world changed. And he didn’t know what he was crusading for. He supposed it came with getting older, a new perspective, and he wondered what his role was, what he should be doing, and if, perhaps, in his single-mindedness, he’d overlooked the importance of broadening his scope.
And then there was Tate. And it didn’t really matter what had come before, or what might come after. She was there. And his heart was in play. He knew it, knew the signs, the feelings, even before she’d dragged him into her home, and as he’d stayed, and as he’d fallen, he’d wondered how in the hell he’d ever thought he could live the rest of his life without this.
Maybe things happened for a reason when they did. He’d never be able to reconcile the loss of his son. He’d been the cause of losing his wife. And now, here he was, in a place that should be so petrifying…and yet it was the opposite of that. It was grounding, and renewing, and validating. Proof that what he was fighting for was worth it. Worth this. Freedom…to live, to love.
Maybe he was falling now because he was ready to fall. Tate thought it was because he was at a crossroads and clinging to something, but that was not it. In fact, that was the last thing he’d do in uncertain times. Drag someone else in and cling to them to regain his own sense of balance. And yet, it was uncertain times, but the person at his side understood that, had lived it. Like he did. So it didn’t matter. They balanced each other, because they’d both learned to stand alone. It made it exactly the right time. The right person. Maybe the only person.
Her tears slowed, then stopped. He kept stroking her hair, leaving the dried tears on his cheeks, feeling the tight skin there from the tracks, as he continued to soothe himself by soothing her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to. That was the thing about this. Why he knew that of course she was the one he’d love. Of course she was.
“It should scare me,” he said. “This.”
“Does it?” she said, her voice rough from the tears.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No. It’s too right for that.” He tipped her face up, kissed the corners of her eyes, and down the salty tracks left from her tears, until he ended at her mouth. “You’re too right for it to be anything other than glorious. It’s too good to waste any of it worrying. I’ve learned. I’ve learned what will happen, will happen. I don’t want anything bad to happen. But I know what to do. What not to do. I found balance, Tate. I know my place in the world, and what’s important, and I know my place in this. I wouldn’t make the same choices, the same mistakes. And the rest…” He kissed her again. “It doesn’t do any good to worry. I’d rather spend the time I have doing this.”
Her mouth was soft, warm, damp with tears, and pliant beneath his. She was still sad, still mourning for him, and he let her work through that as he continued his soft kisses. It eased him, too, helped him mourn all that was, that could never be. Even as he slowly brought them back to what was going to be, with the promise of all those kisses.
“Derek—”
“Shh,” he murmured.
She shook her head, broke the kiss long enough to lift her head and look at him. “No, I need to say this. Thank you.”
“For breaking your heart?”
“For sharing that part of yourself. With me. For letting your heart break again. For trusting me to hold all the shattered little pieces.”
“But I shattered you, too.”
“I know.” She smiled a little then, and it was so beautiful, like the sun after the rain, the promise of new life to come. “It was because you could that I knew what to do. I knew what I needed, so I knew what to give. I’m not making any sense.”
“You’re making perfect sense.”
She laid her head back down. “We should sleep.”
“We should.” He nudged her chin back up, and kissed her again, only this time it wasn’t about easing, but about the promise of new life. And, once he’d started to unleash it, the hunger for it, to start it, it almost swamped him. He knew it was the boomerang of being so wrenched just before, but he didn’t care. It was the right bookend to it, the right launching pad for what came next.
And Tate was right there with him, kissing him back with the same hunger, the same fervor, the same voracious need, like she could consume him and it still wouldn’t be enough to sate her.
He knew the feeling.
He pushed her to her back and rolled to his side. Her hand came up to brace him. “You said, before…you said, ‘not like this.’ You shouldn’t be—we shouldn’t—”
He let his ribs scream. His shoulder echoed the sentiment. But he leaned down over her anyway. “Now we should. I wanted it to be between two people who knew, who’d accepted, who are ready to look forward. It had to be all that, with you. Nothing less would be right.”
She smiled then, broadly, white teeth flashing in the dark, and it was truly the sun at the end of a long, very long storm. “It feels perfectly right…but—”
“I know I’m not a hundred percent, I’m a little busted up at the moment, but what I feel for you is a hundred percent.”
“Then that’s all that matters. We can wait, until it’s pleasure and not pain for you. It shouldn’t hurt. I don’t want it to hurt.”
“I’m pretty sure I won’t feel the least bit of pain.” Then he leaned in to kiss her and his rib gave him such a vicious pinch, he sucked in a gasp before he could control it.
“See?” She gently eased him off of her. “Lie down.” She kept pushing. “Lie all the way back down.”
Flat on his back again, the fire in his side immediately ceded, but the one in his heart…“This is so not how I wanted our tempestuous union to begin.”
She smiled and leaned over him. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s already started.” She kissed him, then kissed him again.
He groaned as his body raged to life, feeling only pure, unadulterated pleasure at her taste, her touch, that she was the one kissing him, pleasing him…nothing had ever felt this good. His hand came up to brace her, then to pull her down. “Seriously, about the injuries—”
“Shh,” she told him now. “Let me the rest of the way in.”
“You’re in,” he told her, groaning deep in his throat when she brushed her hands across his face, traced his tender cheekbone, ran her fingers across his lips, then began working her way along his jaw with a string of kisses that were sweeter than he thought existed.
“Then let me have you,” she murmured, pressing a hot, sweet kiss to the tender spot beneath his ear. “Let me learn you.” She lifted her head, looked into his eyes. “Trust me with this,” she said, pressing the tips of her fingers over his heart. “Trust me with you. You’ll have your turn, your time…but this time, is my time.”
She slid down, kissed the spot where her fingers pressed. Then she leaned over and kissed the tips of his bandaged fingers, and every single one of his ribs, so feather soft, her lips so warm and sweet.
His eyes burned again, only it had nothing to do with mourning a loss. How…what had he done to deserve the gift of her?
