Chapter 3 Between Love and Lies #2
“Sunshine, look at me.” I waited until she met my eyes. Her brilliant blues were brimming with tears. “Please don’t cry. You have nothing to apologize for. We’ll figure it out.”
“This is so fudged up, Duncan.”
“Fudged up?” I arched my brow. Her use of my real name for the first time hadn’t escaped my attention. It was a struggle to keep my expression neutral and my dick from bursting through my zipper, but I managed both, just barely.
She shrugged. “I don’t curse anymore. Not since I found out I was pregnant.”
Sloane and I finished the rest of the cleanup in relative silence while the elephant in the room sat heavily on my chest. She was a damn good mom. More than once, I opened my mouth to say it, but ended up swallowing the compliment, along with the million questions sitting on the tip of my tongue.
Slow, Duncan. Take it slow.
After chucking the spent lo mein in the trash can, she pointed to the remaining containers spread on the counter.
“What else did you bring?”
“Pork fried rice, crab rangoon, egg rolls, Hunan beef, and kung pao chicken.”
A twinge of sadness flowed through her voice as she whispered, “You remembered.”
“I remember all your favorites.”
“Not everything is the same as it was back then.”
Her statement hovered in the air like a rain cloud, threatening to drench us at any moment.
We survived being battered and bruised and––in my case––hardened after having the other half of my soul ripped away.
Our first chance was stolen from us, now here we were, getting a second one.
A few changes were nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I wouldn’t take anything for granted. The accident might have altered the trajectory of our past, but the future was ours to navigate.
“Then I look forward to figuring out what’s different.”
“Me too.”
Sloane
Sweet baby Jesus, my ovaries were going to freaking explode.
It seemed my lust for him hadn’t lessened during our forced separation.
If anything, it had intensified. I had no idea it was possible to be ticked off and crawling-out-of-my-skin horny at the same time, yet my suddenly parched libido said otherwise.
Duncan Palmer had that effect on me, always had, even when he went by a different name.
Darn him. Somehow, I had to get myself under control.
“Why don’t we eat in the living room? It’s more comfortable than the kitchen table,” I suggested.
We worked in tandem, filling our plates with a small portion of each offering.
Grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, I followed behind Duncan as he carried our food.
The short walk from one room to the next did nothing to clear my head, and I had to swallow a groan when he bent over to set our plates on the coffee table.
I’d forgotten how perfectly his bum filled out a pair of jeans.
It was clear the years had been kind to him.
He was ripped in places where I rippled.
It wasn’t meant to be self-deprecating, it was just a fact.
But I was proud of my curves. They came from Rogan and Reagan and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
Once we settled on the couch, Duncan reached for his fork, motioning for me to do the same.
He dug into his meal like a starved man, except I knew he was only delaying the inevitable.
Ripping off the Band-Aid was much more efficient than prying up the edges.
Parenting the twins had taught me that important lesson.
“Did you find the answers you were looking for when you left yesterday?”
“Yes and no.” He shoved another bite of rice into his mouth.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Before we get into that, I want to know what, if anything, you remember about the accident.”
Setting my fork on the edge of my plate, I rested back against the cushions and closed my eyes.
Snippets from our drive flashed through my mind.
It was my favorite time of year. The trees on either side of the road were the perfect mixture of green, golden-orange, and russet as the leaves had begun to change their color for the season.
It wasn’t just the scenery I remembered with such clarity.
“Something was wrong. You were too quiet.”
“I was terrified.” My eyes flew open, meeting Duncan’s worried gaze as he slumped back on the sofa beside me. “We had a lot of amazing memories on those trails. It’s why I was taking you there; to tell you the truth, to tell you I loved you.”
Loved.
Was his love past tense? Or was it like mine?
An all-consuming, never-ending kind of love that warmed you from the inside out.
Duncan owned me––mind, body, and soul––since the moment he hijacked my lonely lunch, it just took a while to process the emotions.
They were different from anything I’d ever experienced.
When the twins were born, I finally understood. It was unconditional love.
“Sloane?”
His hand ghosted the top of my thigh. The simple touch triggered an avalanche of memories.
The living room faded to black and suddenly it was nine years in the past. My heart hammered violently against my rib cage as the accident played out in slow motion in my mind.
The loud pop. A massive ball of light. Then pain. So much pain I swore I was dying.
“Breathe, Sunshine.” His warm palm curved around the side of my neck, startling me back to the present. “That’s it. Slow and steady.”
“I-I’m fine.” The shakiness of my voice matched the slight tremble in my hands. I folded them together in my lap, trying to hide the reaction, but he’d noticed. Pale blue eyes tracked my movements, while his thumb stroked back and forth softly over the pulse point on my neck.
“You’re not, but you will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
Without hesitation, he leaned in. Heat flared under my skin when his lips touched my forehead.
For an instant, I recalled what it felt like when his kisses made my body come alive.
They still did, truth be told, but we lacked a certain familiarity which we’d lost somewhere between our love and his lies.
Could we find our way back to the couple we’d been before?
Our past ran deeper and wider than any barriers blocking our future.
Still, the answer wasn’t as simple as yes or no.
We weren’t the same people––one of us quite literally.
The thought had the same effect as a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head. I turned, breaking the intimacy of our connection. My head was a jumbled mess. There was really only one rationalization for his behavior. Rather than keep it to myself, I gave it a voice.
“You didn’t trust me.” He went rigid next to me, but I couldn’t sit still any longer.
Pushing to a stand, I walked across the room to the built-in bookcase, where several pictures of the twins sat on the shelves.
I picked one up, running my finger across the baby faces staring back at me from beneath the tempered glass.
“You were undercover with the FBI when we met, right? So the initial deception, I understand. But three months, Duncan. For three months, I shared every crooked corner of my life while you spoon-fed me some made-up story. You didn’t trust me. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“Jesus Christ.” I whirled around at the sound of his voice in my ear. The frame slipped out of my grasp, but thankfully, his reflexes were on point, snagging it before it smashed to the floor. “How did you get over here?”
“There’s no way to justify what I did, but trust was never the issue, Sloane.
” A frown marred his beautiful face. “They chose me to go to Ireland because I was a loner with no family, no one to miss me if I got caught in the crossfire. It was supposed to be a job. Get in, get the bad guy, and get back to my boring life. The narrative changed when I saw you sitting in the restaurant. You were unexpected.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
He stared at the picture in his hands. “Fuck, they’re beautiful.”
“They are.”
“It wasn’t a made-up story.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everything I told you about growing up in the system was the truth, with one slight alteration.” After returning the frame to the shelf, he faced me fully. “Do you remember my foster father who died?”
“Of course I do.”
“What was his name?”
“Oh my God,” I gasped. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. I’d assumed it was from Waverly, but…
“You said his name was Duncan.”
He nodded. “His real name was Rogan James. You’re the only person I ever told about him.”
“Not even Waverly?”
“Not even her.” Duncan laced his fingers with mine. “Come on.”
Since my head was spinning faster than tires on a racetrack, I didn’t object when he led me back to the couch.
My wedges clicked steadily on the floor, reminding me of the sound an old clock made when it counted off the seconds.
Tick. Tick. Tick. It was apropos, seeing as time was running out for us to clear the air.
The twins would be home in a few hours and before then, we had to figure out our next move.
We resumed our previous seats. Duncan released my hand in order to pick up my forgotten dinner. My stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, eliciting a chuckle from the man next to me as he carefully placed the plate on my lap.
“It’s probably cold.” He pointed to the food. “Do you want me to heat it up?”
“No. It’s good.”
“Okay, then you eat while I do what I should’ve done nine years ago.” He took a deep breath, then stole mine with his lopsided grin. “Hi. My name is Duncan Palmer.”