Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Imogene
The sound of footsteps cut through the peacefulness surrounding me as I sat in a reading chair beside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, relishing in the last few moments of daylight. My heart skyrocketed into my throat and I briefly worried it was Liam. It was a baseless concern, considering all the security in place around the bungalow. After the past few days, though, I couldn’t help but let my fears get the better of me.
Seconds later, Gideon strolled into the kitchen, his eyes distant, lost in thought. He was dressed in shorts and a hoodie, having spent the better part of the afternoon working out in the garage. As usual.
The late afternoon light cast shadows across his face, making him look sharper. Colder. As if some part of him had been carved away, leaving only his rough edges.
He opened one of the cabinets and retrieved a bottle of scotch, pouring several fingers and taking a long gulp. He set the glass on the counter, staring at it for a moment before he finally looked up and noticed me studying him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice flat.
“Enjoying the sunset. Or as much of the sunset I can from in here.”
He took another long sip from his drink, then made his way toward me, lowering himself into the chair beside mine and focusing his gaze on the horizon.
After several silent moments, his eyes shifted from the window, floating over me like he was assessing me for damage.
“How’s Melanie?”
“She’s good. Just worried.”
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Simply turned his gaze back toward the horizon, the sky darkening with every second.
Lately, every glance, every word seemed like a version of someone I barely recognized. This man in front of me wasn’t Gideon Saint. But he wasn’t Samuel Tate, either. The space between us felt wider than ever, a divide that threatened to swallow us whole.
“Why don’t we get away?” I suggested after several more moments, unsure how much longer I could stand this tension between us.
While I hated Liam for breaking into my house and destroying all sense of security, I hated him even more for this. For creating this unbearable rift between Gideon and me.
“Get…away?”
“Exactly. Let’s get out of this place for a few days. Go somewhere without all of this hanging over us.” I linked my fingers with his, savoring in the feel of his skin on mine.
His expression softened, the turmoil and frustration that had been plaguing him momentarily disappearing.
“We could go to Hilton Head like we used to. We can go to that hole in the wall restaurant where we both ate all those oysters and clams. Get drunk on cheap beer. Forget about life for a minute.”
“That sounds amazing,” he sighed, a smile teasing his lips. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen since the break-in. But in mere seconds, his expression fell and he pulled away from me, standing. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
I blinked repeatedly, feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from underneath me.
“Why not?” I shot to my feet.
“Because it’s not safe.” His voice was calm, but there was a hardness there, making it clear this wasn’t up for discussion. “I can keep you safe here. In these four walls. The security is state-of-the art. There are cameras and sensors. I know that no harm will come to you here. But anywhere else?” He shook his head. “I can’t risk it.”
“So…what?” I bit out, my frustration bubbling up. “Are you just going to keep me locked up here forever?”
He reached for my hand in an attempt to soothe me. “I’m just trying to protect you.”
I ripped my hand from his. “Protect me?” The words came out sharper than I’d intended, but I didn’t stop. “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass. Like I might break. Hell, you won’t even fuck me like you used to when you were?—”
I stopped short, inhaling a sharp breath.
“When I was…what?”
I hesitated, my words stuck in my throat. I hadn’t expected to have this conversation with him when I proposed going away on a romantic weekend together.
I could have dropped it. Hell, that was probably what I should have done. But I couldn’t deny how much I missed the dark parts of him.
“When you were Gideon,” I finally confessed. “When you were wild and rough and hungry.” I stepped toward him, closing the gap between us until there was barely a breath separating us. “When you touched me without hesitation. Without treating me like you’re worried I might break.”
“Imogene,” he begged, his jaw tense, as if struggling to reconcile the two parts of himself.
“I love you,” I continued, placing my hand on his cheek. “I will always love Samuel Tate. But I miss Gideon Saint. I miss his hunger and passion. Miss the darkness that matched my own.” I hoisted myself onto my toes, my lips hovering near his. “I miss how alive he made me feel.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a hard swallow as his gaze traced over my face. From my eyes. To my nose. Then settling on my lips. He cupped my cheek, his touch gentle at first before becoming harsh. Powerful. Controlling.
A shadow crossed over his eyes, the heat I’d missed since the accident slowly returning.
But it disappeared in a heartbeat, and he quickly dropped his hold on me, as if reminding himself who he was.
Or, more accurately, who he wanted to be.
“I told you. Gideon Saint is dead.” He spun from me, storming toward the front door.
But I wasn’t going to let him avoid this conversation. Wasn’t going to let him keep pretending to be someone I knew in my heart he wasn’t.
“He’s not dead.” I grabbed his hand, forcing him to come to an abrupt stop. “He’s still a huge part of you.”
I swallowed down the emotions bubbling up inside of me. But I couldn’t stop. Not now that I was finally giving voice to all my thoughts and feelings.
“I get that the accident…changed you.”
“I could have lost you, Imogene.” He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with the panic he must have experienced that day. “And it would have been all my fault. I?—”
“But you didn’t lose me. I’m still here. I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you’re not because you think that’s what I need. You can’t pretend the past didn’t happen. Can’t pretend all those horrible things never happened. They did. I hate that they did, but it made you into the man you are today.” I erased the distance between us once more, holding his face in my firm grip to prevent him from escaping this. “I love that man. Love his light. Love his heart. And I love his darkness, too. Please… Let me love that darkness.”
He gripped my hip, his fingers digging into the skin. It ached, but I welcomed the pain. Welcomed the hurt. It was what I needed.
“Please,” I said again, his blue eyes swirling with confusion and indecision. “Give me your darkness.”
Closing my eyes, I inched my lips toward his, bracing for him to capture my mouth in a heated kiss like he once did.
Instead, he released me, practically pushing me away.
“I am not that person anymore,” he said, his tone harsh, his expression strained with the anger he struggled to hide. “If you don’t want to be with me like this, then I guess you don’t want to be with me at all.”
His words caught me off guard, and I stared at him, bewildered, struggling to come up with something to say. Something to make him see what I did.
But before I could, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him with a finality I hadn’t anticipated.