Chapter Five
Ridley
P aisley's curled up on the porch swing with a glass of wine when I jog up the steps to her cabin a little after dark.
The chains creak faintly as she rocks it back and forth, her hair up in a ponytail.
She's changed clothes since I saw her a couple of hours ago.
Instead of a skirt and blouse, she's in shorts and a T-shirt with bare feet.
Her toenails are painted bright red…the same way they were three years ago.
I fight a groan at the reminder of how those sexy little toes feel digging into my back.
It's not like I've ever been able to forget, though.
Just like I've never forgotten the exact cadence of her moans, or the two little freckles on her inner thigh, or the way she quivered and whimpered when I sank my teeth into them.
"Hey," she mumbles, sitting forward slightly when I lean up against the post across from her.
"Got the tire changed for you," I murmur, placing her keys on the railing beside me. "I parked the car outside the winery in the usual spot."
"Thanks. How much do I owe you?"
"You don't owe me anything, Dimples," I say, frowning. "I don't want your money." God knows, I have plenty of my own. I don't need hers. The only thing I've ever wanted from her is her.
And I fucked that all up.
I've been kicking my own ass since she told me what really happened, regretting like hell that I ran instead of storming out of the truck that day to demand answers. Had I just fucking pushed through the fear, none of this would have happened. She'd still be in my arms. She wouldn't hate me.
"What do you want, Ridley?" she asks, her voice soft, her gaze probing, as if she's really trying to figure me out. As if I'm a stranger standing in front of her instead of the man who knows exactly how to make her melt.
"A time machine would be nice."
"Fresh out," she says, tipping her glass up to take a sip. She eyes me over the rim. "What would you do with it if you had one?"
"Go back to that morning, when I was watching you sleep. You looked so fucking sweet wrapped around my pillow, mumbling my name," I rasp, my hands curling around the porch railing as if that'll stop me from reaching for her. "I'd kiss you awake and ask you to wait for me."
"You think it'd change anything?"
"I fucking hope so." I swallow hard. "Christ, Paisley, I'm so goddamn sorry. I should have gotten out of the truck. I should have just fucking confronted you and asked who he was." I laugh abruptly, a pained, humorless sound. "I should have fought for you."
She dips her head, strands of hair falling across her face to obscure her eyes from me. "Why didn't you?"
"I…" I swallow again. "I saw the note you left, and then I saw you with him.
I guess I thought the note was your way of letting me know that we weren't as serious as I thought we were.
I thought you chose him." I shake my head, trying to put my thoughts in order.
"As much as that fucking killed me, I just wanted you happy.
If I wasn't the one who could give you that…
. No, that's not true." I pause for a moment.
"I saw you with him, and I wanted to fucking kill him, Dimples.
I knew if I got out of the truck, I would have.
I'd have broken your heart just to keep you from being with him, and I couldn't do that to you.
As much as I hated him, I didn't want to be the prick who took him from you, so I walked away instead.
It was the only thing I knew how to do to make you happy.
At least, I thought I was giving you what made you happy. "
"You made me happy," she says softly.
I groan quietly, my damn heart aching like a motherfucker.
"I wish to God that I'd known he was your brother.
Everything would be different if I had. I didn't run to Italy because I had doubts about us.
I left because I couldn't sleep in my bed, knowing you were all over it.
I couldn't walk through the vineyard with memories of you haunting me.
And I fucking stayed gone because I knew if I didn't, I'd track him down and kill him just for touching you when I couldn't."
"He died," she whispers.
I snap my head up, meeting her gaze. "What?"
"My brother."
"Jesus, Paisley." I stare at her in shock.
A sad, haunting simile of a smile twists at her lips. "He came to tell me bye that day because his unit was being shipped overseas to help with a hostage rescue. He was killed in action a week later by a sniper."
"I'm so fucking sorry, baby," I whisper. "Christ, I'm sorry."
"Me too." She reaches up to thumb away a tear, and I crack.
I cross the short distance between us, taking the wine glass from her hand to set it on the railing. And then I pull her up from her seat and into my arms. She's tense at first, but then she sighs and burrows into me, her face against my throat as I wrap my arms around her.
Regret chokes me as she trembles in my arms. Goddamn, I have so much to regret.
So many things I've missed. And for what?
Why? Because I saw her with someone and came face to face with just how far I was willing to go to keep her?
I was terrified I'd smother her light just to keep it for myself, destroying her in the process.
And I was wrong the whole fucking time. About everything.
Running didn't solve anything. It didn't make her any happier.
It certainly didn't fucking make me happy.
I was miserable without her…and maybe that's what I deserved.
Because whatever I felt doesn't even compare to what she was going through here. Alone.
She lost her brother…and I didn't even know.
Why the fuck didn't anyone tell me? Ha. Do I even have to ask? They thought they were protecting her from me after I left like I did. I didn't deserve to know anything about her. I wasn't worthy of her.
It hurts like hell to know they were right. I wasn't worthy of her. Hell, maybe I'm still not. But…I'll fight like hell to be that man if she'll let me. Even if it changes nothing and she still hates me in the end, I owe her every ounce of fight I have.
"I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, Paisley." It doesn't matter how many times I say it, it won't be enough. It'll never be enough. She deserves more than words. If I have to fucking grovel on my knees for forgiveness, I'll do it. Whatever it takes to prove to her that I mean it.
"I don't want to fight anymore, Ridley," she whispers in response, craning her head to look up at me.
"What do you want, Dimples?" I rest my forehead against hers. "Whatever it is, I'll give it to you. Anything. You deserve that from me, baby. Christ, you've deserved it for the last three years. I'm so fucking sorry."
"I want…more wine."
I blink at her, surprised by the simple request. "You want more wine?"
"Definitely." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her gaze flickering across my face. "Do you…um…do you want to have dinner with me?"
"Yeah. Fuck, yeah."
Her lips curve into a tiny, hopeful smile. And then her brows furrow, worry filtering through her expression. "As friends," she says. "Just as friends."
That's not even remotely close to what I want, but it's a start.
"Deal," I murmur.
" Y ou really didn't have to cook for me," she says an hour later as I place a plate on the small table in front of her. "I would have cooked."
"It's all good, Dimples," I murmur, sliding into the seat across from her. "I enjoy cooking."
"That's different." She glances from her plate to me, her brows furrowed. "You used to hate it."
"That was before Italy. It's impossible to live in a country known for its food without learning a thing or two."
"Well, it looks amazing."
"Thank you." I wink at her before picking up my fork. Lucy must have stocked Paisley's fridge before she got here because it had everything I needed to make pesto chicken, garlic bread, and salad.
She cuts off a bite of chicken and pops it into her mouth before blinking at me. "Holy shit." Her fingers hover in front of her lips. "That's really good."
"Told you I learned a thing or two," I say, grinning.
"Uh, clearly!"
I laugh softly, watching as she cuts another bite before popping it into her mouth with relish.
And then I have to readjust in my seat because my fucking pants are getting tight.
She's gorgeous every minute of the day, but there's something downright sexy about watching her enjoy food I made for her.
Friends. Just friends, I remind myself. It doesn't help, not when she takes a bite of bread and moans.
I want to be the thing in her mouth, making her moan like that.
"Lucy said you finished law school a few months ago," I say, grasping for anything to keep my mind off how much I'd like to place her on my plate and eat her instead of the chicken.
"I did. Even passed the bar exam last month."
"Good girl." I take a sip of wine before setting my glass down. "What's next?"
"I was just offered a position at Crudup in Los Angeles," she murmurs, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
I arch a brow, impressed. "That's the big leagues, Dimples. Impressive."
She shrugs like it's no big deal. "It's good money, but it's not really what I want."
"What do you want?"
Her gaze drifts to me and then away so quickly I would have missed it if I weren't hyper-focused on every move she makes. "I'd like to get hired on in the prosecutor's office somewhere. That's where my dad and grandpa both started out."
"You want to follow in their footsteps?"
"Somewhat," she murmurs. "I don't have judgeship aspirations, but I want to help victims, not perpetrators. The best place to do that is as a prosecutor."
"Any area in particular?"
She shrugs, glancing away from me. "I'd like to stay close to Lucy. That probably sounds silly. We're both adults. We can't be joined at the hip forever, but…"
"But she's your best friend."
"Yeah," she says, her voice soft as she tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Even though we were only three hours away from each other, I feel like I've already missed so much of my nieces' lives. And now Oliver and Lucy are having another baby. I don't want to be an absentee godparent."
"Ouch," I murmur.
Paisley grimaces, her gaze flitting to mine. "I'm sorry. I wasn't talking about you."
"Maybe not, but the shoe fits anyway. I've missed a lot."
"Me too," she whispers. "Being here always felt…different after you left. Like I was trying to take your place or something." She shrugs awkwardly. "I didn't come much."
"You're welcome here anytime, Paisley." I meet her gaze, holding it. "My family loves you." At this point, I'm fairly sure half of them would choose her over me. I can't say that I blame them. Given half a chance, it's the choice I'd make.
She gives me a tiny smile before taking another few bites. "What was Italy like?"
"Beautiful." I push my plate away. "Lonely."
"You never…?" She bites her bottom lip. "Never mind. Don't answer that. It isn't my business."
"No, I was never with anyone." I hold her gaze, unflinching. "It's always been you."
"Ridley." There's a warning in her tone, like she's telling me I'm skating too close to forbidden territory, but there's relief in her gaze, too, as if the truth settles her.
"I told you that you haunted me. I meant it, baby. You were everywhere."
"Ridley." Her fork clangs against her plate.
"You still haunt me."
"You think it's any different for me?" She jerks her head up, her eyes narrowing on me. "There were times when I wished I could get over you because then it would have hurt less, but I couldn't. You broke me."
I groan, her words hitting me right in the fucking heart. "I broke me too, baby. Christ, I broke everything, didn't I?"
"I don't know," she whispers.
I rise from the table, circling to her. I kneel beside her chair, reaching up to curve my hand around her jaw.
To my surprise, she doesn't pull away. She nestles her face into my hand, and that gives me hope.
Hope that I didn't break us beyond repair.
And hope that she's still willing to give me a chance I don't deserve.
"I'm going to fix it, Dimples. I swear to you, I won't stop trying until you know how much I wish I'd never fucked it up in the first place."
"Don't break me again, Ridley," she whispers, a soft plea in her voice. "Please. I can't."
"Never again," I vow, determined to keep that promise no matter what.