Chapter 4 #2
“I’ll find out who did this.” His words were gritted out through clenched teeth; there was nothing warm about them.
Still, they caused a wave of soft, gooey heat to go through me.
It felt a little pathetic, to be so affected by a man acting like a big, macho provider.
I didn’t need a provider; I needed a partner.
Still, coming to Marswood Harbor had been impulsive, and the whole day had been full of such conflicting emotions that I felt like I had whiplash.
Gideon’s words eased some of that discomfort, made me feel like I had somewhere safe to land. Like I had a home.
And wasn’t that just the silliest thing to feel in a situation like this?
My desire to be independent lost to the desire to feel safe.
So I nodded, and Gideon closed the door.
His car smelled like him, and I took a deep breath into my lungs as he circled to the driver’s side.
We turned out of the lot and headed down the hill toward the water.
Then we turned again, left the town limits, and snaked along a tree-covered hillside.
The ocean glittered to my right as the last sliver of the sun went down behind the hills.
Gideon’s presence filled the car. It was a choking, heavy thing. I thought of the touch of his finger on my chin and the way he’d snapped into action when he saw the slashed tire. A big, strong man taking control. Making sure I was safe. Taking care of me.
And I realized I was turned on.
I gulped, thinking of what was to come. Him and me, at some cottage in the woods, alone. On our wedding night. I worked to keep my breathing steady. I thought I was doing a pretty good job until Gideon asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” I replied, cheerful, smiling big.
His dark gaze flicked over, then back to the winding road. “You’re breathing faster than before.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“Regretting the choices that brought you to this moment?” Gideon asked, sardonic and bitter, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t looking for an answer.
I gave him one anyway. “Not exactly,” I hedged. Not because of you.
There was a long pause.
“It was probably some dumb kid,” Gideon finally said in a low voice.
“What?”
“The tire. I don’t think it was directed at you, specifically.”
“Oh. Right.” I let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah.”
Gideon glanced over, frowning, then back at the winding road. He was quiet after that. My breathing slowed a bit, and I felt better.
The big, looming problem of tonight was still there, though. Soon, we’d be at the cottage, and we might progress to the part of the evening where married people were supposed to do what married people did. And I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that. Sex was something I desperately wanted and could never have.
And he was a one out of ten. Even if I could have sex, Gideon wouldn’t want to. He’d made that abundantly clear. Every time he touched me, it seemed like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Every time he looked at me, he grimaced.
It should have been a relief to know that my new husband didn’t want me in that way—wouldn’t subject me to pain and pressure—but it only made me feel worse. Small and sad and rejected.
We turned down a narrow road, a few low-hanging tree branches brushing against the roof of the car, and then a dark house appeared at the end of the drive.
It was a small, gorgeous stone building nestled in the trees, with a little patch of overgrown lawn at the front.
A two-car garage had been built onto the house, almost as big as the rest of the building.
I slid out of the car and looked around, eyes flicking to the hill that sloped down toward the water.
The sky was deep blue over the water now, a few stars flickering to life.
Even without it being fully dark, there were more stars than I’d ever seen in Manhattan.
My throat went tight as I listened to the wind in the trees and the distant lapping of waves on the shore.
Crickets chirped, and the trees creaked as they bent and swayed.
This place was isolated. Peaceful. No one would find me here.
I could turn my phone off, and all the pressure of the business and my family’s expectations would be gone. Until this very moment, I hadn’t realized how much I needed that. How heavy the pressure to perform had weighed on me.
Nestled in this forest, hours of road away from everything I knew, I felt like I could simply be.
Similar to the feeling I got when I stood at the top of the church steps, a wave of yearning hit me.
I was so tired. I wanted to stop and rest. I wanted to curl up in a nest of pillows and blankets and sleep for an eternity.
I wanted to cut myself off from the world, from my family, from my obligations, and start over. A new life. A new me.
I didn’t want this to end in six weeks.
“I’ll show you inside,” Gideon grumbled, grabbing one suitcase out of the trunk.
I turned away from the view, and he hit a button on the wall to close the garage door.
We went in through an interior door, took off our shoes, and padded on hardwood floors toward a decently sized open kitchen/living/dining room.
Big, comfy couches framed a gigantic fireplace, with a wall of windows showing the starry sky and darkening view beyond.
It was clean, but it had the smell of closed-off, barely-used spaces. Framed sketches decorated the walls—portraits, landscapes, and one particularly good sketch of a curled-up kitten—and a big basket of neatly folded blankets sat near the fireplace. Cozy. Adorable.
My heart soared as my eyes scanned the space. I was in love.
I turned to watch Gideon set my bag down and head back to the garage to haul in the last one.
His back shifted, muscles visible through the thin white fabric of his button-down shirt.
I remembered I was still wearing his jacket, and I took the opportunity to sniff its collar one last time when he was out of the room.
Then I took it off and draped it over the back of the sofa before trailing my fingers over the knotty pine dining table and crossing to the wall of windows.
While I was admiring the view, my phone chimed. I dug through my tote bag, which I’d dropped on the couch with the jacket, and found my phone. When I turned the screen toward me, a familiar pit opened in my stomach. It was the family group chat.
MOM
Making plans for Christmas. This place looks perfect!
A link followed. Even though I knew what to expect, I still clicked on it. Still looked at the accommodation my mother thought was “perfect” for our yearly trip. Still felt the need to point out the obvious.
SADIE
That place only has three bedrooms.
MOM
The couch pulls out.
Because my favorite activity was bashing my head against the wall, I replied:
SADIE
Who’s sleeping on it this year?
The rest of my family joined the chat, as well as their partners.
I could see five people online, which I guessed were my mom Sandra, my sister Christine, her husband Mark, my brother Lucas, and his wife Lucy.
None of them bothered replying. They just reacted to my message with a rolling-on-the-floor-laughing emoji.
Because it was a given that I would sleep on the couch in the living room. Because I was single, and therefore less valuable.
“What is it?”
I jumped, turning to see Gideon standing in the mouth of the short hallway leading to the garage.
It was all darkness behind him, with only the light of the nearly-faded sun illuminating his front.
He looked menacing and dangerous, but not in a way that made me afraid.
He could take on whatever threat was thrown at him and come out ahead.
And I had the sinking feeling that I was nothing but a burden. First the wedding, which he obviously hadn’t wanted. Then the tire. And now my petty familial problems. How much more could he take before he threw his hands up and decided I wasn’t worth the trouble?
He wouldn’t be the first man to toss me away like garbage.
I wanted to trust him, but I’d learned my lesson.
I knew I couldn’t. He’d probably think my being on the brink of tears over a pull-out couch on a family vacation was ridiculous.
I mostly agreed, but I couldn’t help the way I felt.
But add to that the fact that my body was defective, and he obviously found me repulsive?
We wouldn’t last six weeks. We wouldn’t even last six days.
I exhaled, and the tears receded. “Nothing,” I croaked.
He set my last suitcase down and prowled toward me.
He moved quietly for a man his size, scanning my face and body before casting an eye around the room.
He came to a stop in front of me, then reached over to press my chin up with his curled index finger.
I hated that. I loved that. Forcing my eyes to open, I met his gaze.
Heat rolled off his body, searing my front.
His touch was gentle, barely an inch of contact between us, and it made me dizzy.
And his eyes, as always, were cold and hard and suspicious.
“You should stop lying to me,” he suggested in a quiet rumble.
“I’m not—” I cut myself off as his brow jumped. I gulped. “Don’t you find this all a bit overwhelming?” I finally asked, my voice squeaking at the end. I blinked rapidly, mortified by the prickling returning with a vengeance behind my eyes.
He dropped his hand and took a step back. “Not the Prince Charming you were expecting?”
“Stop doing that,” I snapped, regaining control over my emotions.
Gideon blinked at me. “Stop doing what?”
“Saying that kind of thing. You treat me like I should be afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be.”