Chapter 18
Clutching his clothes, Zane stumbled to the door, Jillian’s tears like hot blades stabbing into his chest.
“Freeze, Wolfe!” she ordered.
Back to her, he froze.
“You are not allowed to give a woman the best sex of her life and then run out on her.”
Confusion tangled in his churning gut. “Yeah, you’re so thrilled you’re crying your eyes out.”
“You’re totally misunderstanding. I’m crying, but in a good way.”
He slowly turned, stared at her warily. There was a good way to make a woman cry?
“Would you please get your gorgeous naked butt back over here and talk to me?” She patted the mat next to her. “Come here.”
Walking barefoot on burning coals the entire way, he returned to the mat. Dropped his clothes and sat beside her.
“Oh, Zane.” Eyes as soft and dark as purple twilight, she knelt in front of him and embraced him, and he let her.
Let her hell … he clung to her.
“You’re fully aware of what just happened here. And don’t tell me you have no idea what I mean, because you felt it too.”
Now that his initial horror over bringing her to tears had faded, he was very much afraid he did.
“I love you,” she murmured against his throat.
He gritted his teeth. He knew. Had known since their wedding night in Tahoe. But denial was the only weapon he possessed against her.
Trying desperately not to want, not to need, not to hope, he stiffened. “ Don’t. Don’t love me.”
“That’s like asking the sun not to shine. The flowers not to bloom. You can’t turn love off and on. Love simply is.”
“If you try hard enough, you can control anything.”
She pulled away to look at him. Surprising amusement played at the corners of her generous mouth. “Is that what you believe? Oh, Champ, you’re in for a big surprise.”
He felt sick. “You might have a fairy tale fetish, but the rest of us are earthbound.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me what we just shared was merely scratching an itch.” She held his gaze. “Tell me it didn’t mean anything.”
He couldn’t.
Because— God help him —she was right.
“People take off their clothes and have sex all the time. But opening yourself to someone, letting them into your mind, your heart, your soul … that’s truly baring yourself to each other. We’re connected now. We’re part of each another.”
She caressed his cheek. “You’re not the cold, unfeeling man you pretend to be to protect yourself.” Her tender voice offered the comfort and safety he longed to accept. “In spite of the fact that you strive so hard to hide him, I’ve seen the real Zane Wolfe. You’re caring and thoughtful, with an enormous capacity to love. If you would only let yourself.”
A bittersweet ache twisted deep inside. For the first time in his life, he felt wanted. Accepted. Cherished.
The hell was, he didn’t know how to accept what she was offering.
Loving him made Jillian all the more vulnerable. Made it easier for him to wound her. Kind hearts were the most fragile. Sooner or later, he’d destroy her, and his son. He refused to do that to them. “I can’t give you what you need. What you deserve. I don’t know how to love you back.”
She smiled. A smile of absolute surety. A smile that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You can’t deny what’s between us. As much as you want to control it by sheer will, it’s impossible.”
Pulse hammering, he shook his head.
“Sure, you can run … but you can’t hide from it. Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped running?”
Zane stared at the woman who’d given him her body, heart, and soul without reservation. Marveled at the trust and affection shimmering in her eyes. Apparently, kind hearts were more stubborn—and more resilient—than he’d realized.
A dim, shaky flicker of warmth sparked to life in his heart.
She captured his trembling hand in both of her small, warm ones. “No matter what you do, what you say … even if you choose to run again … I will never stop loving you, Zane.”
The small hopeful flame steadied, warmth spreading, glowing through every dark space inside. She never gave in. Never lost hope. Never quit. There was such peacefulness, serenity, rightness with her.
Things he’d never felt with anyone.
When he’d let his shields down, they’d shared a connection he couldn’t explain. Merely being in her presence soothed every tortured memory branded on his soul. Feelings welled up inside him, and for the first time, he dared to name them.
Respect.
Trust.
Love.
Breathing rapidly, he pulled away and clenched his hands at his sides, battling the terror that taunted him. The mocking scorn that tempted him to bolt.
His knuckles brushed something small and hard on the mat, and he picked it up. He looked at the piece of sea glass Casey had given him. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he’d scooped up his clothes.
Zane studied the cobalt stone glistening in his palm with wonder and growing realization. Like the glass, he’d arrived in Cape Hope brittle and broken, but Jillian and Casey had tumbled him sideways and upside down … and begun to smooth his rough edges.
If he hung around long enough, maybe—
His throat constricted. Was it possible Jillian and Casey had been purposely thrust into his life to tilt his world on its axis? To turn him upside down and inside out?
To heal him?
The thought shattered his remaining defenses, and his heart fisted in painful yearning.
To have a wife and child to love … Who loved him back …
Emotions tangled inside him, tying him into knots of uncertainty. Jillian was unconditionally offering him what he’d longed for all his life.
A family.
He loved her. With everything he had. Everything he was.
But he didn’t know how to put that love into action.
He swallowed the stinging lump in his throat. Jillian knew how. She loved freely, with complete acceptance. Maybe if he told her everything, maybe if she understood where he came from, she could teach him.
He traced an unsteady finger down her pert nose. “Take a shower with me.”
She tilted her head, considering him. Smiled. “All right.”
“Then I have a story to tell you.” He gulped. “It’s ugly. No happy ending. But I … I want to stop running.”
Her lovely features softened, her eyes glowing. “That’s a very brave decision.” The empathy in her voice enfolded him like a down comforter. “And don’t worry about the story, we can write the sequel differently.”
Smiling despite the looming dread waiting to pounce, he stood and helped her to her feet. “Those rose-colored glasses must be made of tungsten. They’re beginning to look real appealing.”
She kissed him. “They’re big enough for two.”
They blew out the candles, gathered their scattered clothing. Naked, they walked upstairs hand-in-hand. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Most women hid their nakedness either under the sheets, or the cover of darkness. Even when coaxed to reveal themselves, they seemed unable to resist pointing out their flaws. Flaws he hadn’t noticed and still didn’t see, even after they insisted otherwise.
Not Jillian. She was refreshingly unselfconscious with him, as if they’d been lovers for years.
He urged Jillian to climb in the shower so she could warm up while he found her emerald robe, his drawstring pants, and Casey’s child monitor. Returning to the bathroom, he locked the main door, opened the glass shower door and stepped into the steamy enclosure. His gaze cruised over her glistening feminine curves. “Damn, woman, you knock the air right out of me.”
And she was his for the asking. His breath returned, hitched in his throat with the possibility.
“Thank you.” Her gaze swept him from head to toe. “You’re magnificent yourself, Wolfie.”
He couldn’t resist moving closer to capture her honeyed mouth and she eagerly returned his kiss. The silky heat of her tongue tangled with his, then she planted her hands on his chest and applied gentle pressure. “Are you stalling for time?”
“No. Maybe. Okay, probably. But I have an irresistible, wet, naked goddess right here and … waste not, want not.”
She grinned. “A philosophy I can totally get onboard with.”
Grinning back, he slathered his hands with soap and advanced on her.
She squeaked and squirmed as his soapy hands slicked over her. “I can wash myself.”
“Yeah.” He snuggled her against him, his slippery palms massaging her back, sliding down to cup her butt. “But admit it, this is much more fun.”
“Mmm.” She leaned against his chest. “It’s wonderful.”
He proceeded to tend to every luscious inch of her … and then take her slowly and thoroughly against the shower wall.
Sitting on the shower floor afterward, he drew her limp body against him. “Jillian …” He looked at the sparkling droplets beaded on the glass tile, struggling to admit the truth. “I’ve never felt this way before. The closeness between us is unique. And special.”
“Oh, Zane.” She sounded like she might cry again. “Do you know how much it means to hear that from you?”
“That’s why I told you.” He grimaced. “But sentiment feels goofy coming out of my mouth.”
She hugged him. “You’re not used to it. Over time, expressing your feelings will get easier.”
Apprehension raked chills down his spine. In spite of the steamy warmth that surrounded him, goose bumps pebbled his skin. Would it? And would he be able to slay his demons and become a good husband and father?
His stomach churned. If he were wrong, if Stoneheart’s legacy was too firmly embedded...
His failure would cost the woman and child he loved grim consequences.
Jillian’s arms tightened around him. Her hot, wet curves pressed against him, chasing away the chill. “Stop. Stop doubting yourself.”
“How the hell do you get inside my head?”
She leaned back and held his gaze, her expression steady in the swirling mist. “I don’t know, but you do it to me, too. We’re bonded on an elemental level.”
He nodded. “It’s freaky.”
“But nice?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. All his life he’d felt compelled to keep people at arm’s length. Cultivate a solitary existence. Keep a lonely credo.
But because of Jillian, that had changed.
“Okay, Champ, let’s get out of here before we turn into prune people.”
They dried off and dressed. Rosy and pink from the shower, Jillian teased him about not bringing her a nightgown, only a robe.
Then they peeked in at Casey, sleeping soundly. Standing with his arm around Jillian, and hers around him, Zane watched his sleeping son.
He’d missed way too many days like this one. Missed too many “firsts,” like the lost tooth. Missed too many crayon drawings and bedtime stories.
Jillian stroked his back. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make cocoa.”
Dread sank sharp talons into him. Damn, he didn’t want to do this.
But he had to walk through the fire … because Jillian and Casey waited on the other side.
Downstairs, Jillian padded to the kitchen to make the cocoa. Zane paced the living room until she softly called out and asked him to light the thick white pillar candles stacked at various heights inside the fireplace. Appreciating that she’d purposefully given him a task to stop his pacing, he touched a long match to each wick. The room filled with the glowing ambience of a fire without unnecessary heat.
She entered and handed him a warm, fragrant yellow mug. They sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. As Jillian snuggled close, he took a sip of cocoa. “Big on candlelight, aren’t you?”
“It’s warm and cozy. And soothing.”
Tense and jumpy over his imminent ordeal, his nerves jittered, his palms dampened. He managed to arch an eyebrow at her in a teasing gesture. “I sure like looking at your naked body bathed in it.”
She grinned. “Ditto.”
He shook his head. “You’re one in a million.”
“Thank you.” Her expression sobered. “But if we want to make this work, you have to share your fears so we can deal with them.”
His stomach cramped. It felt like a mortal sin to bring such darkness into her life.
But she was light, and light conquered darkness. In the impenetrable blackness of night, even one tiny lamp could be seen by pilots flying thousands of miles above the earth.
“Yeah. Okay.” He would do this quick and clean. Relay the facts. Tell her what she needed to know and not allow it to drag him through the slicing blades of grief and anger. Not allow it to chop his heart into bloody pieces.
Been there, done that, bore the agonizing scars.
Appetite gone, he set down his cocoa. “I— When my two brothers and I were growing up, our old man drove us hard. He not only demanded perfection from my mom, but also from us. In every way. When we brought home A’s, he ordered us to bring them up to A-pluses. When we made a sports team, he expected us to be captain and MVP. He forced us to go to school even when we were sick, because we had to have perfect attendance. ‘ Virile agitur ’—act like a man—was the family creed. No vulnerabilities allowed.”
He paused, and she sat silently, patiently waiting.
“When we didn’t measure up, he punished us. When we were younger, he’d ground us to our rooms for days, withhold food. Sometimes he’d smack us around. Sometimes he’d smack my mom around. Until … until I turned fifteen and was big enough to stand up to him. He gave Mom a crack across the mouth and bloodied her lip, and I … I broke his arm.”
“It was justifiable, Zane,” she said quietly.
“It stopped him.” He raked trembling fingers through his damp hair. “But does violence justify violence? I ask myself that every day on the job.”
“You know damned well sometimes it’s the only way to stop the bad guys.”
“Yeah. After that, everything he dished out was verbal. Mocking, taunting, scorn.”
She put a reassuring hand on his thigh. “And verbal abuse is as damaging as physical abuse, if not more so. Because harsh words crush your spirit, leave wounds inside that don’t heal.”
Zane leaned forward, forearms propped on his knees, muscles rigid. “We lived in a nice house, but it wasn’t a home. My youngest brother Trevor and I used to take off and play in the woods. Nobody ever came looking for us there and it was a great place to escape. We’d wade in the creek and fish, and then cook our catches over an open fire. We’d eat in the fort we built and talk about the future, when we’d be out from under Stoneheart’s hammer. We were best friends.” A shard of pain breached his defenses, and he clenched his fists.
She rubbed his back, her voice as gentle as her touch. “It’s okay. I know it hurts.”
It can’t hurt if you don’t let it.
He’d survived his childhood, hell his entire life, clinging to that mantra.
He steeled himself and continued. “My oldest brother, Brent, toed our father’s party line and became an asshole just like him. Hard, driven, without mercy. He took second-in-command in the old man’s company and has two ex-wives who hate his guts and a fourteen-year-old son in drug rehab for the third time.
“At first I strove to please my father, too. Then I figured out nothing I did would ever be good enough. When he’d go off on me, I pretended not to give a damn. Pretty soon, I didn’t. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quite block out the brutal rants, and the way they made me feel … worthless.”
Still rubbing his back, she rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“Trevor … unlike me … he never got the hang of distancing himself. He craved the old man’s approval so badly. When I got my baseball scholarship and left for UT, Trev was a senior in high school. He was determined to get into Stoneheart’s ivy league alma mater, prove himself. He knew he had to ace his SATs to do it and he called me the night before, scared shitless. I tried to convince him it was no big deal, but man, the kid was wound way too tight. Trev was smart enough to hit the top scores, no problem. But he was so psyched-out, he bombed.”
Zane hesitated, holding back the encroaching pain.
Jillian’s compassionate gaze held his in a warm embrace. “And your father got angry.”
The sizzle of burning wicks and the smell of melting wax carried clearly in the quiet room. He looked away from her, stared at the fluttering candles. Willing himself to stay anchored in the present as he related the terrors of his past.
“Dear old Dad’s barbed tongue could flay with sadistic efficiency. Trevor and the old man had a vicious fight. Trev called me again, in tears this time. Stoneheart had told him he was a disgrace to the family name and he was going to disown him. I reassured Trev he could take the SATs over again if he wanted to. I told him to hang on, that I would drive right up, and I’d help him straighten everything out.”
“I’m sure just knowing you were on the way helped him.”
“He got real calm. Said not to bother, that he couldn’t lean on his big brother to take care of his messes anymore. He sounded so determined, so composed, I never guessed. Never even suspected—”
Zane shook his head, blinking away moisture pressing behind his eyelids. “I sped like a maniac. I knew he needed my support if he was going to confront Stoneheart again. When I finally got there, my parents’ car was gone. They’d left to attend a corporate party. Usually when Trev knew I was coming home, no matter what time it was, he’d be waiting for me in the driveway and we’d shoot some hoops. Talk shit out. This time, he wasn’t there. I went in the house, shouted for him. He didn’t answer. I thought maybe he’d gone to our old fort in the woods. I was about to head out there—”
Zane went rigid, fighting the emotional storm. “—when I finally found him. Dead.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
He gritted his teeth, refusing to give way to the threatening agony. Keeping his feelings safely bottled up behind the dam, he stated the facts like he would in one of his case reports. “He ... was in the bathtub, fully clothed. Looked like he’d fallen asleep. Except for— Except for the blood.”
He choked, cleared his throat, soldiered on. “God, God, there was so much blood. Spattered on the walls. Filling the tub. Soaking Trev’s jeans and T-shirt until they looked black. A river of it had flooded from where his lower jaw dangled by tendons—the result of the bullet he’d fired into his own mouth.”
Jillian gasped and her eyes filled. She slid her arms around him, held him. “Oh, Zane!”
He kept himself stiffly upright, not allowing the gut-wrenching image to form. He couldn’t bear to ever see it again.
Would not ever see it again.
You can get through this. Only a little more, and you’ll be done.
“Everything went blurry after that. I dropped to my knees beside the tub and puked. Even though it was obvious he was beyond help, I called 9-1-1. They sent paramedics and cops. The cops called my parents. When they got home, the old man stomped and raved, called Trev a coward and a loser. Mom went into hysterics and had to be taken to the hospital. Stoneheart went with her.”
Jillian was trembling. He had to force himself to be still, not to tremble along with her.
“They left you all alone?” She sounded aghast.
“Believe me, it was a blessing to get rid of them. The coroner came and took Trev. I went back into the bathroom and saw my little brother’s blood and brains smeared all over the tub. I was numb, but all I could think was I didn’t want my mom to come home and have to deal with that. I found some cleanser and started cleaning it up.”
Her hot, wet tears soaked into the front of his shirt. “Zane, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
Zane held her close, finding comfort in her empathy. Her soft body, her sweet fragrance helped him cling firmly to right now. Helped him keep the sounds and smells of that awful day at a bearable distance. “One of the cops found me. He helped me clean up. I was so furious with the old man that if the evidence team hadn’t taken away the gun, I—I would have used it on him when he got home.”
“I understand why you felt that way.”
“So did the cop. He talked to me the whole time we worked. He stayed and ended up ordering a pizza. He fed me, and we talked the entire night. I needed someone, and he was there. When he left, he gave me his card. He wrote down his home number and told me to call if I ever needed anything, day or night. Officer Luis Manuel changed my life. We still keep in touch, still phone each other now and then.”
She wiped her eyes and looked up at him, tenderly touched his cheek. “That’s why you became a cop.”
“Yeah. After I blew out my shoulder, I’d planned to coach a pro baseball team. But when I went back to school after Trev’s death, I switched to law enforcement. I knew as a cop I could make a difference. Help people. Maybe make up for some of my old man’s destruction.”
Relieved he’d made it through the ugly tale without losing it, he wearily closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the couch. “My mom ended up in long term care, swamped in denial. She kept insisting Trev was murdered. They managed to wean her from the booze, but not the tranqs. Within a year she was dead, too … and nobody will ever convince me it wasn’t from a broken heart. The last time I saw the old man was at her funeral. He refused to speak to me.”
Her gentle fingers brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Bastard.”
“Now you see why I decided never to have a family. The men I come from … everything we touch, we annihilate. From the cradle, I was taught to criticize and push. To succeed, regardless of the collateral damage.”
She rose to her knees and gripped his shoulders. “But you’re nothing like them. You’re not fragile like your mother, not impressionable like Trevor. Not a blind follower like your older brother. You’re not ruthless and sadistic like your father.”
He raised his head, stared at her. “Are you willing to gamble your life—and Casey’s—on that?”
Steadfast and sure, she met his gaze. “Absolutely.”
“What if I fail?”
“What’s your definition of failure, Zane?”
His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. “I know exactly what it is. My little brother, lying in the tub. With his jaw torn loose, his blood and brains spattered all over the wall.” He swallowed hard. “I never told you who Casey looks like. You know he resembles me. But he’s a mirror image of Trev at that age. The first time I saw Casey, it ripped my guts out.”
She paled, but her gaze remained steadily on his. “What happened to Trevor won’t happen to Casey.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“When I came to the airport and told you about Richard and Brooke, you stayed to protect your son, even though you didn’t know anything about him. At the kite festival, you taught him that having fun was more important than winning. After he took off on you in Value-World, instead of whipping him, you put him in timeout.” She again stroked his cheek. “You dealt compassionately and wisely with his lost tooth. When he dumped his dinner in your lap, you were mad, but you gave him a fair consequence and another chance. You’re a good father.”
He sat quietly, processing the blitz of information.
“You know, you remind me of Aragorn when I first got him from the pound.”
He winced. “Gee, thanks.”
She smiled, her eyes kind. “He was fighting trim and battle wary. Like he expected another attack any moment. But look at him now. He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
Not with him. Aragorn hated his guts. Maybe the behemoth sensed that Zane was a danger to Jillian’s heart. Dread skittered through him, and he shook it off. Jesus, he was getting as fanciful as Jillian.
She cocked her head. “You’re afraid of what you don’t know … how to love and be loved in return. The armor you’ve wrapped around your heart makes it tough for anyone to hurt you. That armor also makes it nearly impossible for you to let anyone in. As a result of what you went through, you have shadowed places. But you’re not selfish or cruel. Shall I tell you what you are?”
He managed to return her smile with a much wobblier version. “Can I stop you?”
She chuckled. “You’re intelligent. Courageous. Dedicated. Generous. Kind. You have bone-deep integrity and innate goodness that won’t be denied. You’re an admirable man, Zane Wolfe.”
Shaken and humbled by her faith in him, he swallowed the huge lump in his throat. Part of him was ready to relinquish his heavy burden and start new. And part of him didn’t know if he could.
He’d thought telling Jillian would free him of the weight.
It hadn’t.
Maybe he was destined to carry it forever.
Trembling, he pulled her into his embrace, clung to her. “I want— I want our marriage to work. I want to be a family.” Now that he knew how rich, how complete life was with Jillian by his side, he couldn’t return to his lonely existence. Functioning but not living. “I’ll fight for it with everything I have.”
She slid her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Together, we can do it.”
He returned her hug, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. He prayed they could.
Because unless he conquered his past, they didn’t have a future.