Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
SHAE
I stop biting my lip when I taste blood. Going through the motions of our bedtime ritual, I hold on to hope that Storm will show.
But now that the kids are bathed and wound down, that hope quickly fizzles out, anger and just enough of I-knew-this-would-happen to keep my blood humming.
“Mommy?” Raiden’s soft voice stops me as I turn the lamp between the twins’ beds off. Dimming the light, I sit on Raiden’s mattress, reaching for his hand when I see tears lining his lower lids.
“What is it, Rai?” I ask, mindful of Tempest’s huff as she settles beneath her blankets. My daughter rolls over and faces the opposite wall. Raiden sniffs, then twitches his nose, which is his signal for when he really wants to cry but doesn’t want anyone to see.
“Why didn’t he come tonight?” His words are just above a whisper, and I slide my eyes closed, once again wanting to take a club to Storm Sandoval’s head.
Isn’t this what I was afraid of? That he’d get the kids’ hopes up that he’d be there, only to let them down?
“I’m sure he got caught up, sweetie,” I say, pasting on a smile. Is this how it’s going to be?
“I was thinkin’ that maybe I made him mad last night. When I asked him to read with me again?” Raiden’s voice trembles on the last few words, and I cup his cheek, leaning to kiss his forehead.
“Baby boy, I promise you did nothing wrong. Put that thought right out of your head. Here, let me pluck it out for you,” I say, trying to cover my sadness with humor. Pinching my index and thumb together, I press them to his temple, turning my wrist left and right while making drilling sounds.
“Et voila!” I say, pulling my arm back dramatically. “Thought gone.”
Raiden giggles.
I lean over to kiss him again.
“Don’t worry about?—”
A quick knock has me frowning at the door, and I turn to face the noise as it opens. Storm walks in with a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead, his head tilted down.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he huffs, then winces when he looks at Tempest to see she’s already asleep. He turns his attention to Raiden, who sits up with excitement practically radiating off him.
I stand, taking a wordless step back to let Storm take my spot.
“Hey, Champ. I’m sorry I missed so much of bedtime. I had some important things to take care of. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have missed a minute. Forgive me?” Storm places his hands over his chest as he delivers his plea, but Raiden nods his assent before Storm can finish speaking.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Storm whispers. “Tell me about your day.”
Raiden smiles and goes into detailing his day, and I take that as my sign to give them more space. But before I can move, Storm grabs my hand, lacing his fingers in mine without taking his attention off Raiden.
I freeze in place, his unexpected touch doing all sorts of things to my body and my mind. He’s just holding my hand, so this shouldn’t impact me this much. But against the backdrop of this intimate moment with us and our children, I’m overwhelmed.
You’re pissed at him. Remember?
I tug on my hand, but Storm’s grip tightens.
“Storm—”
“Hold on a minute, Sweetness,” he says with a brief grin in my direction. I huff, about to say something, anything, when Tempest rolls over and shouts.
“Get out of my room!” She throws a pillow at Storm’s feet. I whirl around, gasping, and track Tempest’s gaze where it locks on my hands connected with Storm’s.
“Tempest Amaya, what has gotten into you?” I ask, censure heavy in my tone. She growls, faceplanting into her mattress.
“Hey,” Storm whispers. “Let’s give her space. Dr. Wilson says it’s important to enforce that boundaries are to be honored.”
I look at him as if he’s grown a second head. Who the hell is Dr. Wilson?
Storm leans back over to Raiden and whispers something to him. Our son launches himself into Storm’s arms, and something in my heart crackles when Storm’s shoulders drop and he squeezes tighter.
Still, he doesn’t let go of my hand.
This is trouble.
I’m vacillating between so many emotions, I’m annoyed with my damn self.
Storm guides us out of the room, closing the door with a quiet snick , but he doesn’t move to leave the hallway. Instead, he turns and rests his back against the doorjamb.
Beneath his dark cap, I can feel his eyes on me.
“Thanks for showing,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I’m unsure if I am genuinely grateful or if I’m saying the words to be snarky. Maybe a mix of both?
“I’m sorry I was late,” he replies with a wince. “This evening has been stupid, but I didn’t want to miss saying goodnight.”
“It would have been okay for one night,” I offer graciously, folding my arms across my chest as I lean on the opposite wall. The hallway is slightly larger than average, so about six feet separate our bodies, but I feel like he’s right on top of me anyway.
His energy surrounds me.
“It wouldn’t be okay,” he says back, his tone serious. His previous words float through my memory: This is the last night I spend away from my kids.
And he really meant that.
In a rush, everything we still have to sort out punches me like Rhonda Rousey, and I blink several times as details come forward about my business, our housing, what’s happening with my presumably empty condo, and the fact that no one has watered my plants—if they haven’t met their demise in a landmine.
I bite my lip.
“I need to talk to you. We need to talk,” I blurt out, and Storm tilts his chin down and holds out an arm, silently telling me to lead the way.
I land on taking us to the media room I’ve never been in but pass by every day. The floor-to-ceiling screen is dark, but as we move into the room, motion-activated can lights pop on row by row.
Storm makes his way to the front row of four plush leather recliners and sits with a groan.
I frown as I sit next to him.
“What’s going on with you, old man?” I ask, trying to tease him, but when he grins, it turns into a grimace.
I tilt my head to the side.
“Are you okay?” I ask. He waves a hand.
“I’m fine. What do you want to talk about, Shae?”
Even though we’re far from being together, I can’t help but pick up on his tells.
“You’re hurt,” I say, moving to stand over him. I tilt his chin up so I can see more of his face and?—
“Oh, my God! Storm! What the hell happened to your face?” I must wrench his head to the side too much, because he lets out a grunt and moves his face away.
“I’m fine ,” he repeats, and I smack my lips and wrench the ball cap off his head.
“ Storm ,” I say, tears inexplicably rushing to my eyes. “What in the world?”
Storm leans back in his seat, smiling even more as he assesses me. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and his left eye is almost swollen shut. His top lip has a split in it, and a deep purple bruise forms on his cheek beneath the injured eye.
It looks like someone cleaned up and bandaged his injuries, but the sight still has me wanting to take care of him.
What the hell, Shae?
Catching myself, I take a step back and put my hands in my back pocket.
“Well, I hope the other guy looks worse,” I say.
Storm settles into the chair more.
“Yeah, he does,” he says smugly. I roll my eyes at that.
“Do I want to know what happened?” I ask, and Storm’s smile dims a fraction.
“Let’s just say it was a fight that needed to happen. Now I can move on,” he replies, his voice soft.
And I don’t like what the thought of him “moving on” does to my heart.
My eyes slide closed. I’m so in this. I’m so fucked.
My gaze locks on Storm’s.
I’m still so in love with this man, and I hate that I don’t hate this fact more.
I shift to get rid of the buzzing beneath my skin.
“Have you seen a doctor? Or did you clean that up yourself?” Not that I’m medically inclined by any means, but his injuries do look like they warrant a visit to a physician.
Storm shrugs and smiles.
“Why are you so damn happy? You look like you got curb-stomped,” I throw back, and he laughs low.
“Nah, just one nigga with a big mouth,” he replies. “But for real, I’m okay. I’m glad you’re so concerned.”
He smiles again, licking the cut on his lip once.
I shake my head.
“I wanted to talk to you because it’s time we discussed next steps from here,” I say. Storm tilts his head, his expression unchanging.
“Such as?”
I sit down again, but this time in a seat closer to his.
“The kids will have to go back to school soon. Also, we need to formalize whatever this co-parenting thing is between us. The kids’ birthday is coming up in a few months, and I’d promised them Legoland in Tokyo, so I need to know if you want to go, if it’s safe for us to go—hell, if you’ve fixed your bullshit and undid whatever it was to let me fly again. ”
It’s funny how I feel more humored and less enraged by his stunt today.
This is you getting stupid again, Shae….
Inhaling, I say, “And I need to go back to work soon. Things are…tense there, and I need to go in to sort things out.”
He tries to frown but winces when it pulls on his cut.
“What’s going on?” he asks, and his voice is so serious, I can tell he wants to step in and fix whatever’s giving me stress.
The only problem is, he can’t fix this, and even if he could, I don’t want him to.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I tell him, and his features soften.
“I know there’s nothing you can’t do,” he replies, and damn, there I go getting drawn back into him.
I straighten in my chair, sitting on my hands while Storm continues to stare at me wordlessly.
After a long moment, he finally says, “Give me a week, and I’ll give you the answers to all these questions.”
That’s not what I was expecting him to say.
“Why a week? Why can’t we discuss it now?” I reply, shaking my head. Games. And just when I find myself slipping, he decides to play games, present secrets.
“Hey,” he says, and the feeling of his fingers on my chin makes me shiver.
I simply can’t help it.
“There are things in motion?—”
“Keep your secrets,” I hiss, moving away from him and heading for the exit.
“Stop, Shae,” Storm commands, and the depth in his voice freezes me. I sense his heat as he moves, his hands landing on my shoulders as he brings my body close to his.
“You’ve got to stop running every time I say something that upsets you, baby. Can we make that deal? That we’ll communicate like adults—no more spinning the truth or lying by omission.”
His thumbs press into the sore muscles right above my shoulder blades, and goddamn the moan that comes out of my mouth.
I clear my throat.
“I don’t lie to you, Storm. That’s a you problem.”
Storm doesn’t move except for the delicious press of his fingers into my back.
“But you’re right. We can talk. Now that things have cooled down between us, you can see this whole big happy family fantasy you have will never work.”
Storm hums and keeps pressing into my shoulders.
“Why not?” he throws out, seeming unbothered, which is the complete opposite of my current state.
I’m bothered. Very bothered.
“First, we don’t have to be together for you to be a father to the kids. You know that, right?”
He doesn’t respond.
“And second is…we don’t know each other. Not really. Not who we are today. Whatever feelings we have are from memory, not reality,” I say, and my throat heats as I blink away hot tears.
“Do you believe that, Shae?”
“That we don’t know each other? Yeah. Eight years is a long time. That’s a lot of life to live apart, Storm.” I’m proud of myself when my voice doesn’t crack.
“I agree with you there, but I disagree with most of your previous statement.” He pulls me in even closer, and his nose tickles the hairs at the back of my neck.
“What I feel for you is too potent, too visceral, too holy to be anything but real,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “And if there’s anything I know to be true, it’s that my soul knows yours. All the other details can change, but that fact will not.”
Oh, God. He’s killing me—killing me again with his words and promises and declarations. Before he waltzed back into my life, I’d shut the door on anything remotely this emotional. But now? With him?
It’s like my will to fight against this vanished with the slightest pressure from him.
“I’m trying to be different, Shae. I’m trying to be better for you,” he whispers, and that snaps me out of my haze. Turning, I lean against the door I was just trying to exit.
“You don’t need to do anything for me,” I reply, my voice just as low. “Just don’t let Tempest and Raiden down.”
Storm shakes his head sadly.
“Never. I’d never hurt them, Shae.” He takes my hand and places my palm over his heart. “I know you have no reason to trust my words but feel my heart. I would never hurt them.”
I sniff, losing the battle against my tears.
“You might not mean to,” I whisper. Storm wipes away one of my tears and keeps his palm pressed to my cheek.
“I’m going to be better for them, Shae. I’m going to be better for you, too.”
I meet his gaze, and I believe him. God damn me, I do believe him—I believe he means that he wants to try.
But has he changed enough not to fail?
“Storm—”
“Let me show you, Sweetness,” he says, still holding my gaze. “Starting with a week from now. Okay?”
He waits patiently for my response, but then, he’s always been patient—so patient with me.
Why? Why did he do all of that just to break me in the end?
He says he wants no more half-truths between us, but there’s so much still unresolved. The question is, are we ready to face it all?
“Okay,” I say, because in this moment, that’s all there is to say.
He finally removes his palm from my face and grabs my hand again. I let myself analyze the feeling of his flesh against mine—how rough his hands are now, where the new scars are along his knuckles.
He jumps a fraction, and I bring his fist closer and notice the open skin.
“That looks like it needs stitches,” I reply, trying to break the intense mood between us.
“Nah,” he says, “but you can kiss it better.”
I lift my head to meet his expression, his smirk back on his face.
“Oh really?” I say, and I lift his fingers to my lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the split knuckle.
“Not there,” he says, his voice sounding rough. The rasp has my heart rate picking up, and the look on his face delivers competing, intense messages.
“Then where?” I ask.
He doesn’t hesitate. All he does is move forward and place his lips on mine. It’s a gentle press, unhurried and not at all like the inferno that’s blazed between us in our past few encounters.
This kiss says, “Thank you.”
This kiss says, “I have hope for us.”
This kiss, terrifyingly, says, “I love you.”
And when he finally releases me from his embrace, resting his forehead against mine, all I can think is one word.
Yes.