Chapter Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
H E WAS SITTING there in one of the kitchen chairs when headlights appeared in the driveway.
He stood up and went to the door, his body tense.
He knew who it was. It could only be Rory, but he had expected her to be spending the evening with his sister. She’d said she was packing for Boston. Weeding out her clothes, and things like that.
The countdown was on.
For him to start his new life, for her to start hers.
For them to be realistic.
She flung the door open, without knocking. And then she was in his arms before he could ask what she was doing here.
She kissed him, and he kissed her back.
Whatever he’d just been thinking, the dark thoughts about it all ending, they evaporated in the heat of the moment. Her mouth was confident, she was confident.
In the last couple of weeks, Rory had transformed into a demanding and bold lover.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
She gave what she got, and she was never performing.
And that in and of itself was the most attractive thing he could even think of.
And when she kissed him, right now, she went for broke.
It was deep and delicious and wonderful. It was just the two of them. And never for show.
He’d been in a relationship where half of it had always been for show.
Where half of what they got out of it was what other people might feel when they saw them together. Envy. Because they were successful and attractive and desirable.
And he knew that his wife had gotten a whole lot out of that. But Rory kissed him with her eyes closed tight, and Rory kissed him in secret.
And he had never been anyone’s secret. He had been someone they trumpeted to the world.
Until he had just one flaw. A big one, but still.
It had taught him a little something about when he mattered and why.
But Rory made it feel different.
Rory kissed him just to kiss him.
And that was a hell of a thing.
He stripped her shirt off her, admired her glorious curves.
He had loved watching her grow in confidence in her body as well.
Her curves were slender but perfect. Her breasts high and firm.
Her nipples were pert and pink and tight, begging for his touch. Begging for his tongue. He lowered his head and sucked one tightened bud into his mouth.
She was leaving. And he was starting over, and it just felt bleak. The sun going behind the mountain.
He accepted that it had to be that way. He did.
And hell, he didn’t want to take anything to dull the pain. In fact, he wanted to live in it. Wallow in it. Because at least he had felt something.
If there was one damned broken thing he could give thanks for in the middle of all this, it was that she made him feel something.
But she was leaving.
And he was glad for her.
But it might kill him.
He stripped the rest of her clothes off her, all the way bare, and lifted her up, setting her down on the table and laying her down like the feast that she was.
She blushed, all over her body, and he relished it. Welcomed it.
There was something so beautiful about that.
That she could do all these things, be this bold and also still blush.
He got down on his knees and put her legs over his shoulders, pulling her toward the edge of the table, holding her prisoner as he began to lick that tender place between her legs.
Just like she liked.
He knew exactly how to do it. Knew the way that she cried out inside, how she signaled the rise of her desire.
He knew all that.
It was beautiful.
And so was she.
There was nothing more incredible than watching her come. Knowing it was about to happen. Tasting the evidence of her desire.
There was nothing better. And when he felt lonely in the middle of the night, he would comfort himself with this memory. The memory of what Rory Sullivan tasted like on his tongue.
Because it was truly glorious.
And so was she.
And this was the beginning of their goodbyes.
He knew it.
So he feasted on her with all the desire inside of him. Because if he could make her understand one thing, it would be this.
How much he wanted her.
How much he would let things be different if they could be.
If they had lived a different life.
Right then, he let himself imagine it. If he’d never left. If he’d stayed there, and so had she. If they had found each other ten years ago.
If they had just fallen in love then.
Married each other. Instead of him going into the military.
But you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have seen her. You never would’ve slowed down long enough to do it.
He growled, pushing two fingers inside her, and she came apart.
Beautifully. Under his tongue.
And he couldn’t wait anymore. He stood up and undid his jeans and freed himself, thrusting inside her, feeling the silken heat of her close around him.
What a shitty, horrible thing, to realize that he could never have been good enough for her before, either.
He would never have seen her.
He would’ve been looking at flashier things.
More obvious things.
He wanted glory. He cared what other people thought.
He never would’ve just taken her.
Because he was a fool.
He was a fool.
And now he was broken. And what was he to do with that? What the hell could he do with that?
It was just desperately sad, and all he could do was have her. Over and over again. Until neither of them could see straight, until neither of them could breathe.
Until maybe, just maybe, he could forget the grim reality of it all.
That he had to be broken to find her.
That he never would’ve been able to have this if not.
And that either way, keeping her was impossible.
She clung to him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
“Gideon,” she whispered. “I love you.”
He growled, his climax overtaking him completely. He couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think straight. She loved him.
He lowered his head and pressed his face into her neck, and he felt moisture rising up in his eyes.
She loved him.
She wasn’t supposed to love him. She was the sun, and she was supposed to go off and rise somewhere else. That stupid girl.
She was supposed to go away.
She was supposed to leave him to be broken, because that’s what he was.
An addict, a junkie, a man who had abandoned his promises.
It’s what he was.
He knew that.
“Rory.”
He said her name. He said her name instead of telling her no.
He came hard, pouring himself into her, instead of saying no.
Instead of telling her it was impossible.
Dammit.
Dammit, dammit.
He kept his face pressed tightly into her neck.
He just let her hold him.
Because no one had held him in a long time.
Except for her.
And there were a thousand thoughts and feelings rolling through him, and he couldn’t readily identify what any of them were. What he was supposed to do with any of them.
He was afraid. Afraid of this feeling that was so intense, that felt like the heat of battle more than it did anything else, that reminded him of being a different man. In a different time. He was afraid of that, because it was like dreaming again, not like walking into the sunset. Not like letting glory go.
It was a fucking parade inside his soul , and he was terrified of it.
And all the ways that he would fail her.
Because he could not stand to watch the light go out of Rory’s eyes.
He had survived Cassidy.
But he had loved things about Cassidy, and never her. Not really. Not entirely.
He knew that now, because he knew what it felt like when it was different.
Oh, he had loved her. He had loved her as much as he could at the time.
But he couldn’t love anything more than he loved himself. Not then.
Not more than he loved his own self-image.
But Rory...
Rory was all-consuming.
And if he fucked up with her he was never going to be able to survive that. He had been brought to the brink once already. He would never be able to do it again and come back.
He would die. He would quite literally die.
He was realistic enough about himself to know that. This time it would end in the gutter.
But if he let her walk away, if he let her go live her life, if he didn’t disappoint her, if he didn’t make her fall out of love with him, he could live with that. And he needed to be in a reality he could live with. Because he had been so close to one that he couldn’t.
She had told him once there was a difference between fear that could be fatal and fear that wasn’t.
This was fatal. He damn well knew it.
But he couldn’t let go of her.
So he picked her up and took her to bed instead.
He laid her down there beneath the covers, and held her tight, and didn’t see how destroyed he was.
He kissed her temple, and they lay like that for a long time.
“I want to stay,” she whispered.
He felt like he’d been stabbed straight to the center of the chest.
“No,” he said. “No, honey. You’re not staying.”
“Gideon, I love you. I don’t want to leave.”
“Rory,” he said, the word tearing at him. “This isn’t a rope climb, sweetie. This is your life. You decided that you were going to go do this, and you need to go do it. You need to do it for you.”
“Gideon,” she said. “I am doing this for me. I want to be with you. I want to give this a try.”
“Please tell me that you didn’t quit the job.”
“I didn’t. I came straight here after talking to your sister and realizing what I had to do. I came straight here because it was important. I couldn’t have Lydia and Fia knowing and not you.”
“Rory,” he said. “You can’t do this to yourself. Not for me. I am a shitty partner. And I have proven that. I don’t have anything to offer you. I don’t. I am a fucking mess. Or did you not get that from anything that I’ve told you recently?”
“But I love you. I liked you before. But we didn’t... It wasn’t the same. That was just you. That was the Gideon you showed the world. It’s like your shell. It was never you, Gideon. Maybe this is you.”
“Great. That’s what I always wanted to know. That I was always a fucking asshole who actually hates everybody. Great. I am just thrilled to have come to that conclusion.”
“No. You’re somebody who thinks very deeply about the people around him. You’re someone who helped me do a rope climb, just because you cared about me meeting my goals. You bought your family ranch so that you could try to give your mother some of her life back, so that you could try to get something of your life back. You climbed out of your addiction. You fixed yourself when your wife wouldn’t stand by you. And you refuse to blame her, even though she deserves some of the blame. Because she didn’t give you a chance, Gideon. She couldn’t handle you when you weren’t perfect, and her marriage vows didn’t mean anything. And that isn’t a failure on your part.”
“Rory, you don’t understand. I am never going to be able to give you that life. You wanted to go experience things. You wanted to go eat different food. I am not going to ever be able to be the guy who gives you the life you deserve. The life you worked for. That you climbed a rope for.”
“Maybe I was climbing the rope for you. For this life. Maybe this was supposed to be the destination all along and I didn’t realize it yet.”
“Rory,” he said. “Go to Boston. Because I can’t have you here.”
He watched her dissolve, and he hated that. But it was better than breaking her over time. It was. Whether she understood that or not. It was better than letting it get too far, and disappointing her.
This was bearable.
Even as it stabbed him straight through the chest, it was bearable.
“Gideon...”
“Go,” he said.
And he thought with some irony that it was strange he was the one throwing her out when he’d been the one thrown out before.
And that made him have a metallic taste in his mouth.
“I think you should go. I think you should go and you should pack. Because you need to go to Boston.”
“Does it matter what I think?”
“Right now you’re blinded by the sex. But the reality of what it means to be married to me, it would break you. I know it would.”
She huffed. Not a laugh. Not a sob. Somewhere in the god-awful in-between. “I don’t recall proposing to you.”
“You know where that was headed.”
“You are so full of yourself,” she said, and then suddenly she was shouting. “You’re still trying to be a legend, instead of a man. Wake up, Gideon! The only person that needs you to be perfect is you .”
“Rory—”
“No! Don’t interrupt me. Don’t you dare. You’re the one that still can’t let go of this idea that you need to be the hero. You’ve done enough for me. I don’t need you to tell me what I need, too. You helped me climb the mountain. You helped me climb up the rope. I’m grateful for that. But you don’t need to tell me what I want. What’s good for me. You don’t get to do that.” She took a breath. “This isn’t just the Summer of Rory Sullivan, this is my life . And I make the decisions. I’m in charge of what I want, not some guy who poured beer on me in college, not some kids who bullied me in middle school. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile after all that. Don’t build me up and then try to tell me what I can and can’t handle.”
She got up and went into the kitchen, and he could hear her dressing. He got up off the bed and went to stand in the doorway.
“Do you have something to say?” she asked.
He was frozen.
He hated that.
And all the rage that welled up inside him was only directed at himself. He couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t blame anyone but his own damn self.
Fuck.
“I want everything, Gideon.”
“I can’t give you everything.”
She let out a primal scream and picked up an apple in the bowl on the counter and threw it. It didn’t hit him, not even close.
“I deserve everything! I’m not beige. I’m not insignificant. And my feelings are not stupid. They aren’t. I’m allowed to feel them and I...” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I have checked off every item on my list because of you. Mountain climbing and makeovers and kissing and now this damned tantrum. And I hate you for this. I really do.”
She turned on her heel and she walked out the front door, slamming it behind her.
He put his hands over his face. He tried to breathe.
She would thank him. She would go to Boston. Because she had to. Because if he made her into a quitter, she wouldn’t want them anymore. Because she would realize at some point she had passed up something good for something broken.
But this felt like a bomb blast and he ought to know.
And the only thing that shocked him was there wasn’t literal shrapnel lodged in his chest right now.
So he lay there, bleeding out. Like he was lying on the ground in Afghanistan.
But he knew there was no medic to fix this.
Because nothing ever could. Nothing at all.