Chapter 50
Miles’s expression stayed clear of any emotion. Of any judgment.
Or surprise.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
She wished she had his cop ability to remain so unruffled. So calm and contained. She’d been amped up and on edge all day, running on nerves and adrenaline, believing if she just kept moving, she’d be safe.
That she could outrun her fears.
Until she’d realized outrunning her fears also meant running away from Miles and the future they could have together.
“I was assigned her case,” Tabitha said, shivering despite the warm night air. She tugged her sleeves over her hands and crossed her arms. “I went to the hospital this morning to introduce myself, and there she was. My mother. Twenty years older but still broken down and beaten by a man in her life.”
The memory of her mom’s battered face filled her mind and Tabitha began to pace in front of her car, as if she could outrun that, too.
“You had no idea it was her when you got assigned her case?” Miles asked.
“When I was a kid, she went by Jennifer. Jennifer Michelle Ewings. So, no. I had no idea Jenny Ewings and Michelle Walsh were the same person until I was standing at the foot of her bed. She was in withdrawal from whatever she’s on now. She kept asking me to get her something for the pain.”
Stopping in front of him, she met his eyes, not wanting to hide this from him. Wanting him to see that she trusted him with her most vulnerable parts. With the most painful ones.
“She didn’t even recognize me,” she whispered around the lump of raw emotion in her throat, tears flowing once again. “She looked right through me. What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother doesn’t recognize their own child? And why, after all these years, after all her abuse and neglect, after all the trauma she put me through, is that the thing that hurts the most?”
He cursed quietly and pulled her into his arms. Held her while she sobbed, her hands clutching his uniform shirt, her tears soaking the fabric. She didn’t know how long they stood that way, him rocking them both slightly, his strength and compassion slowly soothing her, healing her pain, if even only just a little bit.
Eventually, her tears subsided, and she was left clinging to him, feeling washed out and wrung dry, her head aching, her throat burning. He pulled her in tighter, his hands now rubbing soothing circles over her back. Brushing the hair sticking to her damp cheeks away from her face.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”
He was so good. So kind. Everything she’d ever dreamed of but never thought she’d have.
And she’d almost let him go.
That made her want to cry again.
Sliding her arms around his waist, she held on to him while the sun finished its descent. Crickets chirped noisily in the background, but she focused on the strong, steady beat of Miles’s heart under her ear. Breathed in his scent, musk and sandalwood and sweat.
She could have stayed there forever. And would have if a mosquito—more than likely attracted to her own sweaty scent and her shampoo—hadn’t landed on the back of her neck and bit her.
Slapping it away, she straightened. Kept her hand on the spot as she looked up at Miles. “For years after she left me in that hotel room, I wanted her to come back. I had this whole fantasy where she’d sweep into whatever foster home I was living in and take me away. That she’d only left me so she could get clean. So she could be a better mother.”
She dropped her hand, once again wrapping her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. “I eventually realized she wasn’t ever coming back. But instead of accepting that as her choice, I told myself she was dead. I wanted her to be dead. That way I could pretend that she would have gotten clean, that she would have come for me, that she would have finally been the mother I deserved, she just hadn’t had the chance. And then I saw her in that hospital bed,” she continued, her voice going flat, “alive and the same woman, the same mother, she’d always been, that she didn’t even know her own daughter, and I realized…”
Her voice broke and she stopped. Drew in a shaky breath. “I realized she’d spent the past twenty years living her life like I’d never even existed. That she probably hadn’t thought of me once while I’d thought of her every day. That the things she did to me affected every aspect of my life. That I’d never be free of her.”
“You were in shock,” Miles said, stepping forward to settle his hands on her shoulders. Ducking his head, he held her gaze, expression kind. “Your first instinct was to run. To hide. Just like when you were a kid.”
She could let him think that. Could agree that was all it was.
But she was done lying.
“I wasn’t in shock. I saw everything clearly. Yes, my fight or flight instincts kicked in, but I chose flight. I chose to call out sick for the rest of the workday. I chose to pack as many of my things as I could in my car. I chose to ignore your texts and calls.”
“You were scared—”
“I was scared. I still am. But I was also pissed. I knew everything I’d worked so hard to achieve was about to crumble. But more than that, I was ashamed. The woman I thought I’d become was nothing more than an illusion. One more part I’ve been playing. I was a liar. Worse than that… I was just like my mother.”
“You’re not,” he said, his defense of her immediate. Sincere. “I know Michelle Walsh and you are nothing like her.”
“I left you,” she cried hoarsely. “I walked away from you without a word just like she left me. And I almost did it again.”
He cupped her face gently, holding her gaze. “You left a grown man who was keeping plenty of secrets from you as well, not your own child. You were young and didn’t have the coping skills you have now. You made a mistake. One you’ve apologized for. One I’ve forgiven you for. And you didn’t leave me this time. You’re here. You came back.”
“I didn’t get far,” she admitted, her voice somehow watery, despite her thinking she had no more tears left. “I couldn’t seem to make myself get on the highway. Instead, I drove around town for over an hour and then wound up at the lake. I sat there, in my car, for hours. Trying to convince myself to leave.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She looked up at him through wet lashes, her heart in her throat. “You.”
“Because of the promise you made?”
Baby, tell me something true.
Shaking her head, she lifted her hands to cover his, needing that connection to him when she told him the truest thing she’d ever said.
The last secret she’d kept from him.
“Because I’m in love with you.”
His fingers trembled against her cheek, his mouth parting on a soft, amazed exhale. “Tabitha—”
“Let me finish. Please.” He nodded and she swallowed nervously. “I’ve never said that before. Not to anyone. And I probably shouldn’t be saying it to you now. It’s too soon. There are too many things we still need to work on. To get past. But I’m done hiding. And I’m done running, from my past and my feelings. I love you,” she repeated, finding it so much easier to say a second time. That it brought her such joy and relief, she said it a third time. “I love you. And if you can find it to forgive me for fucking up again, I promise to do my best to earn back your trust and to never, ever let my fears drive me away from you again.”
Now his eyes were suspiciously shiny, that haunted look in them replaced by something she knew was mirrored in her own.
Hope.
“Tabitha,” he murmured, his gaze skimming over her features before locking onto her eyes. “I—”
She pressed her fingertips to his mouth, stopping him. “Don’t say it back,” she whispered. “Not yet. Please. You told me so many times when we were together before, and I want to give this to you. Without expectation. Without you feeling obligated or pressured to respond. Please, just… let me love you for a little while before you start loving me back.”
“Too late,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to press against hers. “Way too late.”
And then he kissed her, softly. Sweetly.
His kiss telling her the words she wouldn’t let him say.
Her pulse skittered. Her heart tripped.
But it didn’t fall.
It soared.
He started to pull away, but she went onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his for another second. Then two. She wanted to stay there, right there, on that dark street where anyone driving by or looking out their window could see Mount Laurel’s assistant chief of police kissing a woman on the sidewalk. Where the crickets chirped and the mosquitoes buzzed and the air was thick and warm around them.
Where it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Like they were on the cusp of a new beginning. One where their pasts, their mistakes no longer existed.
Where they were safe.
But their pasts had shaped them into who they were now. And their mistakes were the only choices they could make at the time.
They’d make new ones. Small missteps and huge fuck ups.
They’d learn from them. They’d keep growing. And they’d work to fix them.
Together.
Finally breaking the kiss, she stepped back. “I need to tell Reed. And I’d really like you to be by my side while I do it. Will you come with me?”
He brought her hand to his mouth. Pressed a kiss to her palm. “Absolutely.”
She smiled. Kissed him again before linking her hand with his and letting him lead her to his car.
It was time to step into their future.
***
He had a sister.
Reed swiped up a handful of pebbles from one of the large potted plants lining the privacy fence. Stalked across the well-manicured lawn, Titus scampering at his heels.
He had a sister. He’d always had a sister, he just hadn’t known it.
He had a sister. One who’d been abused and neglected when she was a little girl. Who was sold to fucking perverts and then abandoned in a motel room by her own mother.
By his mother.
Rage burned through him, hot and fast, a wildfire hellbent on destruction.
Just like it used to.
He used to feed that fire. Fighting and stealing and breaking laws. But after his last stint in juvie, he’d realized that if he didn’t straighten out his shit and get his head out of his ass, he was going to end up in prison one day in the not so far future.
Worse. He was going to end up like his old man.
It had taken time, but he’d taught himself how to control his anger.
How to contain it so it didn’t get away from him. Didn’t put his future at risk.
Didn’t hurt anyone else.
He’d tried. He’d walked the straight and narrow. Had done what was right.
But nothing had changed.
None of it had mattered.
Might as well let that fire burn.
If only so it’d turn the sick, helpless sensation in his gut to ash.
He tossed a few pebbles at Verity’s dark window. Heard them connect with the glass with a soft click, click, click. He waited, staring up at her room, heart pounding.
Come on, princess. Come to the window. Give me just two more minutes even if it’s for the very last time.
Please…
There was no movement. No flash of light from the lamp she had on her bedside table. No twitch of those frilly curtains.
No Verity staring back at him in that way that had him all amped up and on edge.
Had him thinking he was actually worth something.
If only in her eyes.
Reed squeezed his hand into a fist, the jagged edges of the remaining stones biting into his palm. Fuck. He was such an idiot. Eighteen hours ago, he’d been read his rights and handcuffed in her bedroom. Had spent the rest of his morning being processed then sitting in a holding cell until his arraignment hearing that afternoon.
Where Reed’s attorney—Patton’s wife, Lily—had told him Verity had also spent time at the police station. Giving them a statement about what had happened when he’d showed up at her house last night.
She’d gotten into trouble. Had to give a fucking statement to the cops. Would, more than likely, be brought in as a witness if his case went to trial.
Because of him.
All because of him.
He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. But he couldn’t sit in Patton’s office any longer. Not when Tabitha started to spout some bullshit about how she knew this was a big change for both of them, but she was hoping they could get to know each other better. That she’d always wanted a brother.
He’d walked out.
No I’ll think about it. No I can’t handle this right now.
No goodbye.
He fucking got up, crossed the room and walked out the door.
And ended up here.
He had a sister.
A woman he barely knew who was ten years older than him and—if the way she held the assistant chief’s hand the whole time she’d talked to Reed was any indication—was hung up on the cop who’d busted Reed more times than he wanted to count.
He threw more pebbles, harder this time, not giving a shit that he was making too much noise. That it was barely eleven p.m. and there was a good chance he’d wake Verity’s bearded brother.
He just… he wanted to see Verity.
He needed her.
He had a sister.
And he’d already fucked things up with her. Had hurt her feelings when he’d walked out without a word.
He had a sister who’d always wanted a brother.
And she’d gotten stuck with him.
He was about to throw the last of his pebbles when there was movement at her window. He froze as a light suddenly turned on in her room. Held his breath when, a moment later, the curtains twitched.
Another moment, this one the longest one of his life, before those curtains were opened and there she was, staring back at him, her arms crossed, her hair loose, the messy waves falling past her shoulders. She had on those same tiny shorts she’d worn last night and a t-shirt, and she looked so fucking pretty, so perfect and good and everything he’d never let himself dream of having, he stepped forward and lifted his hand, as if he could somehow reach out and touch her from here and take her as his own.
Make her his.
But then she took her own step back. Let her arms fall to her sides.
And he saw what she was wearing.
That fucking Drillers’ t-shirt.
With that other guy’s name and number on the back.
He rubbed a hand over his suddenly tight chest. It hurt to swallow. To breathe.
It was worse than anything his old man had ever done to him. Worse than his mother’s betrayal.
Worse, because he’d brought it on himself.
Verity took another step back. Held his gaze while she slowly tugged the curtains together. She moved away from the window and a moment later, the light in her room went out.
He waited. Stood there in the dark, his dog whining beside him, mosquitoes buzzing by his head.
He waited, but the light didn’t come back on.
He waited, but she didn’t come back to the window.
He waited, but she didn’t come around the corner of the house.
He waited, but she didn’t give him another chance.
And he knew she never would.