Chapter 49
Miles didn’t know what was worse.
The fact that it was after eight p.m. and Tabitha still hadn’t returned any of his texts and his last call to her fifteen minutes ago had gone directly to voicemail.
That his mind was so completely fucked up that he couldn’t stop thinking of all the ways she could be hurt.
That he was sitting in his car parked across the street from her dark apartment waiting for her to come home like a stalker.
Or that Katarina stood in the road in a pair of black leggings, a tight, cropped gray tank top, and flip flops.
And was tapping on his window.
She tapped again.
The last one. Definitely.
He pushed the button to roll down the window.
“She’s not here,” Kat said.
“Have you seen her?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware I was in charge of keeping tabs on your girlfriend.”
Frustration tightened his jaw. He liked Kat. Okay, maybe like wasn’t the right word. But he didn’t dislike her, either.
Usually.
If only because he knew she was really pissed at one Jennings in particular.
And since she couldn’t take that irritation—or chunk of ass—out of Silas’s hide, she took it out on the next best thing.
His brothers.
Miles got that. They all understood where she was coming from and why, and none of them blamed her for feeling the way she did.
But sometimes a man had to stop doing what was best for everyone else and for once, do what was best for him.
Even if that meant showing his biggest vulnerability to the one woman who’d be more than happy to use that weakness against him.
“I’m worried about her,” he admitted, his hands curled around the steering wheel. “She’s not returning my texts or calls—”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Jesus, but this woman went right for the jugular.
Knew exactly what his biggest fear was.
“Maybe. And if that’s the case, I’ll respect her wishes. But I don’t think it is. We didn’t have a fight.”
With a men are clueless snort, Kat crossed her arms. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t say something you shouldn’t have.”
“True. But I don’t think I did.”
He hesitated, not wanting to admit how badly he’d fucked up before. How afraid he was of doing it again.
But that was his pride talking. Trying to protect itself.
And he was done listening to that fucker.
The only way he’d have a chance at the future he wanted, of becoming the man he wanted to be, was to stop letting fear control him. He’d taken a step in the right direction earlier by talking to Urban about his anxiety and his guilt over their parents’ accident.
Time to take another one.
“When Tabitha and I were together before, I went too fast. I pushed her to give me everything—her thoughts and feelings and truths—while I kept mine to myself. I used my feelings for her as a way to hide from my pain and grief.” He met Kat’s suspicious, narrowed gaze. “But I’m not doing that now. I trust her. Tabitha knows all my secrets. All my fears. And if she doesn’t, if she’s doubting that or my feelings for her, all I want is a chance to try and convince her. That’s all. I just need to know she’s okay. If you’ve seen or talked to her—”
“I haven’t.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his forehead. Opened his eyes and dropped his hand, trying to swallow his disappointment. “If you do—”
“I didn’t talk to her.”
He froze, his cop instincts picking up the hesitance in her tone and the subtle softening of her expression. “But you saw her?”
She crossed her arms, her lips pursed.
Then nodded slowly. “About an hour and a half ago.”
He sank back against the seat. Thank Christ. She was okay. She was safe.
Or at least, she had been an hour and a half ago.
But his cop brain and his worries wouldn’t let it rest and he went straight into interrogation mode. “She was alone?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing at the time? Did you notice anything about her behavior that seemed out of the ordinary?”
“I was in the living room listening to your nephew tell me all his many excuses as to why he still hadn’t showered yet when I glanced out the window and saw her walking toward the driveway. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except…”
His heart picked up speed. Fuck, he didn’t like the sound of that. Her hesitation.
Or the compassion in her dark eyes.
“Except?”
She glanced down at the road. And when she lifted her head, that sympathy in her eyes had turned to downright pity. “Except she was carrying two large garbage bags that looked to be full. But she didn’t take them to the garbage cans, she put them into the front seat of her car. And when she drove past, I could see her car was packed with more bags along with boxes and totes.”
He shook his head. No. No. It wasn’t what he was thinking. What Kat was inferring.
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be.
He didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of his car and was running across the street until Kat yelled his name.
He picked up speed, was going so fast that when he rounded the corner of the house, he slid on the damp grass and went down hard on one knee, but a moment later he was back up on his feet and racing toward the door.
It was unlocked.
It was unlocked when Tabitha always, always kept it, and her apartment door, locked.
Denial churning through him, he opened the door. Took the stairs two at a time then slammed to a stop at the landing.
The door was open.
His breathing grew choppy as he forced himself to step into the kitchen. Half the cupboard doors were open, showing they were empty. The counters were bare. He flew through the living room and burst into her bedroom. Her bed had been stripped of its sheets, the pillows missing. The top of her dresser was cleared off, the drawers and closet empty. All her toiletries were gone.
Feeling like he was stuck in a nightmare, reliving one of the worst days of his life again, he walked into the living room like a zombie. His legs threatened to give out, but he refused to sit on the ratty couch where less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d fucked him so thoroughly.
Instead, he steadied himself with a hand on her coffee table and lowered himself slowly to the floor. Sat there, head bent, his arms covering his face, hands fisted in his hair, his body trembling as he tried to stave off the panic rising in his chest. Cutting off his breath.
She’d left him.
Again.
Just like he’d been afraid of.
He never should have trusted her. Never should have given her another chance.
Never should have believed her promises.
“You lied.”
He squeezed his arms tighter over his head at the sound of Kat’s voice. Wished he could ignore it. Ignore her.
Wished like hell she wasn’t standing there watching him lose his fucking shit.
Letting go of his hair, he lowered his arms. Turned his head to see Kat leaning against the doorframe separating the kitchen and living room. “What?”
He was still breathing hard, his head buzzing. Her expression didn’t change, but she turned and opened the fridge. Grabbed a bottle of water then crossed to crouch in front of him.
“You lied,” she repeated, twisting the cap off the water before handing it to him.
His hands shook so hard, water sloshed out of the opening and onto his jeans, but he was able to lift the bottle to his mouth. Take an unsteady sip.
And then her words sank in and he slowly lowered the bottle. Frowned. What the hell? “I didn’t lie.”
“You said you trusted Tabitha, but that’s clearly not true.” Standing, she looked down at him, her gaze watchful. Shrugged. “You. Lied.”
He blinked at her, his head slowly clearing, his breathing slowing.
But his heart kept right on racing.
Kept right on breaking.
“She left,” he ground out. “Without a word. Without a goodbye.”
She tipped her head to the side, studied him like a squashed bug under a microscope. “And you’re certain you did nothing to push her away?”
His eyes narrowed. His hand tightened on the bottle and more water splashed onto his jeans. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing.”
“Well, then, maybe her leaving had nothing to do with you,” Kat said with a quiet intensity that had the hair on his arms standing on end. “Maybe something happened to her that scared her or made her feel like the only way she could survive it was to leave. And maybe she didn’t say goodbye because she didn’t know how you’d react if you found out, and that scared her even more.”
He remembered the sincerity in Tabitha’s eyes last night as she apologized. As she promised she’d never walk away like this again.
Hoping for things to be different had never worked for me before. I’d always end up heartbroken and disappointed, so I knew I couldn’t trust it.
The memory combined with Kat’s words was like a rough shake, waking him from the dreamlike space he’d been in. The one where only he and his pain existed. Where his pride was safe. Where he was right.
Where he could stay a coward.
Yes, Tabitha had promised him last night she wouldn’t leave him this way again. but obviously something had changed. Something had scared her.
She needed him to be by her side. To fight for her. For them.
Now more than ever.
He thought he was being brave, so fucking courageous forgiving Tabitha. Giving her another chance. But forgiveness meant nothing without trust.
And bravery was easy when you had nothing at risk.
But Tabitha was worth any risk he had to take.
He just had to have faith that no matter where he ended up, no matter what she decided, whether to be with him or not, he’d figure out a way to be okay.
He struggled to his feet, amazed by how effectively, how efficiently Kat had just yanked his head out of his own ass.
You had to respect a skill like that.
There was obviously a hidden meaning beneath her words, an understanding of what it was like to be scared, to feel alone in the world. To feel as if you had to keep running to be safe. It just reminded him of how closed off Kat kept herself from his family. From everyone, it seemed, other than Ian and Verity.
They knew very little about her past. Or about her.
She had secrets, that was for sure.
But that was something to dig into at a later date.
Right now, he had to go and get his girl.
“If I didn’t think you’d break my nose,” he told Kat, “I’d kiss you right now.”
Her smile was small and mean, but her eyes flashed with grudging humor. “I’m more of a smash a guy’s balls up to his throat kind of girl.”
He winced—and as covertly as possible shifted to the side, holding the water ball in front of his balls. “Noted. And… thanks.”
“What can I say?” she said, deadpan. “I’m a sucker for love.” She held out her hand. “Go on. I’ll lock up.”
He gave her the water bottle, then raced down the stairs, jumping the last three. He’d made a mistake, not trusting Tabitha. Not trusting in what they were starting to build together.
But he’d be damned if he’d make another by letting her go again without a fight.
Sprinting out of the building, he rounded the corner and almost fell on his ass once again.
Tabitha stood in the driveway.
He slowed to a walk, heart pounding as he drank in the sight of her. She looked like shit. Her ponytail was lopsided, the golden waves tangled. Her complexion had a gray cast to it and her makeup was smudged under her eyes. The baggy sweatshirt she wore with her gray leggings was on inside out. He’d never seen her more disheveled.
Or more beautiful.
Had never been more relieved or grateful than in that very moment.
Yes, she’d left.
But she’d come back.
And he was going to do everything in his power to convince her to stay.
***
He knew.
Miles had obviously just been upstairs. Had seen her apartment.
He knew she’d packed up as many of her belongings as she could fit in her car.
He knew she’d left. Again.
But he wasn’t walking away from her.
He was walking toward her.
Tabitha’s heart leapt, surging forward as if trying to get to him.
Trying to get to the one man, the only person, who’d ever cherished it.
He stopped a good six feet away, the setting sun behind him casting the hills in red and orange, the streetlight between them covering him in a yellow glow. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hand through it several times, the strands on the left side sticking straight up, his face drawn, his eyes tired.
“Are you okay?”
Tears rushed to the surface at his quiet question. At it being the first one he asked her after what she’d done.
She swallowed and shook her head. “Not really, no.”
He took a step closer, watching her closely. “Did you forget something?”
You, her heart screamed. You, you, you!
“I promised you I wouldn’t walk away like I did before,” she said, her words coming out quick and nervous, her fingers twisting together at her waist. “That I’d tell you if I wanted to leave and give you a chance to try and fix it.”
He sent a raised eyebrow look at her packed car. “Seems to me you already broke that promise.”
“I didn’t break it. Not all the way. I didn’t leave. I’m here.”
That had to count for something.
Please, please, let that count for something.
“You cleared out your apartment like a criminal on the run. You’ve ignored all my texts and calls.”
She opened her mouth but noticed Katarina crossing the yard behind him and shut it again. Waited until the other woman had climbed onto the porch then went inside the house.
“I fucked up again.”
He nodded, still watching her with that careful gaze. “Yeah. You did. The only question I have is why? Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Say something?”
She shook her head.
“If I went too fast—”
“You didn’t.”
“—or asked for too much—”
“No. Stop.” It broke her heart that he would think he’d done something wrong. “It’s not you. It was nothing you did or said. It’s me.”
He snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you seriously using the it’s not you, it’s me line?”
“Just because it’s a cliché doesn’t mean it’s not true. And I’m not using it for anything other than to explain that this is all on me.”
He took a step forward. “Then tell me,” he said, the soft words less command and more plea, but somehow still powerful. “Tell me why you broke the promise you made to me last night.”
He took another step. “Tell me why you ran.”
And another one. “Tell me why you didn’t trust me.”
And a final one, until he towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the streetlight, his face cast in shadows. “Tell me,” he repeated, gruff and unsteady as he lifted his hand, his fingers trembling as they touched her cheek. “Baby, please tell me something true.”
At the feel of his rough fingertips grazing her skin, her breath whooshed out, as if it had been locked in her chest since this morning and his touch had finally set it free. Shutting her eyes, she let herself lean into his touch. Just for a moment. Long enough to soak it in.
Just in case it was the last time she was able to.
Baby, please tell me something true.
She lifted her head so she could meet his eyes. “I don’t want to.”
His hand dropped as if her whispered words had burned him. Hurt him. “Because you don’t trust me?”
“Because it’s going to change everything,” she cried, unable to keep the tears she’d been fighting all day at bay any longer. They streamed unchecked down her cheeks. “Because I thought I was past it. That she couldn’t hurt me anymore. And now I know I’ll never be free. Not completely.”
“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his expression twisted in anguish as if her crying hurt him more than it did her. He cupped her face, wiped his thumbs over the wetness, but his sweetness and the fact that he was suffering over her, for her, only made her cry harder. “What do you mean you thought she couldn’t hurt you anymore? Who is she?”
She couldn’t think straight when he touched her, couldn’t stand on her own two feet when all she wanted was to lean on him. Let him hold her.
Couldn’t face a truth so ugly when he treated her so beautifully.
She reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists. Gave them a squeeze, then let go, and stepped back so that his hands fell back to his sides. Wiped her forearms over her face to sop up her tears—and realized her sweatshirt was on inside out.
The least of her worries right now.
She dropped her arms. Sniffed. “She,” she said thickly, “is Michelle Walsh.”
Miles went still, his head tipping to the side, his eyes narrowing. She could practically see his cop brain working. Putting the clues together. Gathering evidence.
Coming to conclusions.
“Michelle Walsh,” he said, his tone giving none of those conclusions away. “Reed Walsh’s mother?”
Nausea rose in her throat. She didn’t want to think about Reed. Didn’t want to consider what her running away would have meant for him. For his future.
Didn’t want to think of what her possible responsibility for him could be.
“Yes. Reed’s mother.” She let out a shaky breath. “And mine.”