Chapter Fifty-One
“You now know more about me than anyone else,” I say to her. “Anyone.”
“You can trust me, Braden. All of your secrets are safe with me.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I do trust you. More than you know.”
“More than I know?” She lifts her eyebrows. “How can—”
I shoot my bourbon down my throat and groan. Then I regard her. Sternly.
Time for the moment of truth.
All my plans. All I thought I could have…
I brace myself. Cold plunge. It has to be said. It has to be said without emotion.
“This can’t continue.”
“What?” she asks softly, her voice cracking.
“Reardon found my weakness. I went to him, threatened him, and instead of going after me, he went after you, Skye. My Achilles’ heel.”
She rises to come toward me, but I stop her with a gesture.
She drops her ass back into her chair. “Everyone has an Achilles’ heel, Braden.”
“I don’t.” I pour myself another finger of bourbon. “I can’t.”
God, this is killing me.
There were times, after Addie, when I wondered if I even possessed a heart.
I do.
I know I do because it’s breaking in this moment. “Don’t you see?” I slam my glass down on the table. “I can’t keep you safe.”
“But you did keep me safe.”
“Because of circumstance. What if the doorman hadn’t texted me?”
“But he did.”
“Damn it, Skye!” I stand and hurl the glass against the wall. Shards scatter and rain onto the carpet. Amber liquid drips down the crown molding.
She cowers against the crash.
How I want to go to her, crush her to me, promise her that everything will be okay. That I love her, and that I’ll never leave her.
But I must be the strong one.
Until she steadies herself, stands straight, defiance exuding through her.
“You told me in the cornfield that there was only one master of control between us,” she says, her lips trembling. “You. You, Braden. You’re in control, and you protected me.”
“What if I can’t the next time?”
“Who says there’ll be a next time?”
“I was wrong,” I say. “I didn’t think anything could touch you. Touch us. I didn’t realize…”
“Didn’t realize what?” she urges.
“Even now, it surprises me how much I love you. How much I need you in my life. To be without you will be torture.”
She stands again. She tentatively reaches forward. “You don’t have to be without me.”
“Don’t you get it?” I rub furiously at my temple, easing a throbbing ache. “I have to let you go. I can’t take the chance—”
She closes the distance between us and falls into me.
“I won’t let you go,” she says against my chest. “I won’t. I refuse.”
“Oh, Skye…” I kiss the top of her head.
She eases back and meets my gaze. “We didn’t work this hard to be together just to have it torn away from us. By Beau Reardon? By Peter and Garrett? No way, Braden. I don’t accept this. Not for a fucking minute.”
“You don’t have a choice.” I shake my head. “Neither of us does.”
“Bullshit.” She pounds her fist on my chest. “If it would truly be torture to live without me, why would you subject yourself to that?”
“For your safety.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“What if I hadn’t come tonight?”
“You did.”
“Damn it! Fight fair, Skye.”
“Why should I? You’re not.”
I level my gaze on her. “I always fight fair.”
“Not with me. It’s your way or the highway, always. Well, not tonight, Braden. We’re not in the bedroom at the moment, and this time I’m getting my way.”
The only other woman I loved this much was my mother, and I lost her. Lost her because I didn’t protect her. I’ve come to terms with that. Sort of. I was a stupid kid. But I’m a man now. A man, and it’s my duty to protect the woman I love.
I succeeded tonight, but the next time, I might not.
“I can’t lose you,” I say, my voice resigned. “Not like I lost her.”
She curls her hands into fists. “I’m not your mother, Braden.”
I sigh. “I know.”
“She made a choice. She chose you. I’m making that same choice. You want to condemn us both to torture without each other? I won’t let you.”
“I didn’t keep her safe,” I say into her hair. “I lost her.”
She pulls back and grips my shoulders. “You were six years old, for God’s sake! Are you going to hold a child to some insurmountable standard?”
“Don’t you?”
It’s a fair question. Skye is still holding herself responsible for her parents’ separation to some extent.
“No,” she says, her tone full of resolve. “Absolutely not. My parents’ separation was not my fault.”
I tilt my head. Look into her warm brown eyes. And I believe her. I believe her words with all my heart. Her journey is far from complete, but she’s moving forward. And with each step, she understands herself a little better.
“And your mother’s death was not your fault, Braden. It isn’t. It never was.”
I cup her cheek, then, running my thumb over her top lip.
I’m on a journey as well. It takes time. A lot of steps. A lot of rocks to climb, bridges to cross.
Perhaps it will be slightly less difficult to have someone beside me.
“I won’t give you up,” she says. “You’ll protect me. And I’ll protect you. That’s how it is when you love someone. We both have an equal obligation to each other.” She covers my hand with hers.
What seems like an eternity passes between us, our gazes locked.
How is it possible to love someone more each moment you’re in her presence?
Finally, I smile. It’s weak, but it’s a smile. “I’ll never truly control you, will I?”
She moves forward and brushes her lips against my cheek. “Braden, did you ever honestly believe you would?”