Catch My Breath (17 page)

Don’t leave.

Who? Who didn’t he want to leave?

Brilliant white light filled the room, followed by an earsplitting crash, making us both jump. The storm was far from over. Alastair held me so tightly I thought I’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Don’t break me, Holden.”

Loosening his grip immediately, he apologized.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“You would tell me if I did?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I answered, poking him in the chest. “No harm done this time.”

He sat up, running both hands through his hair to tame the thick mess. I reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covered myself. I didn’t mind being naked, I was just a little chilly.

“I should go.”

No. Don’t run from me.

“It sounds pretty bad out there. At least stay until the storm ends,” I offered weakly, hugging the blanket closer. History can’t repeat itself again. I didn’t want it to happen. I’d spent too many nights alone, cast aside after being used by Nathan. That was the problem with controlling personalities. They could do as they pleased with no regard for who got left behind.

I wished I could be as detached emotionally. That way, I’d be able to give an easy, breezy response and wave goodbye.

Settling back into the cushions, Alastair looked at me. I flashed a crooked smile, curling up next to him.

“Do you want me to spend the night?”

I nodded against his chest, content with listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

“I’ll stay, love,” he acquiesced. "Did you have a nice time on our date?"

"It was okay.” I sat up, facing him.

"Just okay?”

"No pouting, Holden."

The most beautiful, shy smile curved his mouth. His guard was still down. I’d never seen him go this long without retreating behind the mask. Maybe we’d crossed some invisible threshold. Draping his arm over my shoulder, he leaned in close.

“Thank you for going to the fair with me.”

I kissed him. I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re welcome.”

Another dramatic alteration to his expression took my breath away. He looked desolate. Complete and utter sorrow filled every inch of me. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. I sat quietly, not moving, not wanting to force anything. I was so curious about the thoughts and feelings he hid so well.

“Ever since…I haven’t,” he stammered before regaining his composure. “You’re so different from the people who’ve surrounded me all my life.”

“Different? In a good way?”

“For the most part,” he smirked.

He’s teasing me. Sneaky.

“Do you enjoying being a smart-ass?” I folded my arms, suppressing a grin.

“Only at your expense.”

“I see. In that case, I’ll be right back.”

I popped off the couch without looking back and waltzed into the bedroom. Grinning like an idiot the entire time, I changed into some yoga pants and a tank top. He was opening up, albeit slowly, but he was opening up. I snuck a glance at myself in the full-length mirror by the closet. My eyes glowed a molten caramel color.

Keep your head on straight.

Returning to the living room, I saw Alastair standing by the photos on the wall. This time, he stared intently at one of me from last autumn. I remembered it well. Sydney had invited me to her lake house for a weekend. I’d had a particularly tough fight with Nathan and needed a relaxing getaway.

She’d snapped a photo of me while we were out on her husband’s boat. I’d worn a ridiculously huge straw sun hat with my bathing suit and cover up. It’d been a brief moment of fun and silliness during the most stressful time of my life.

Alastair turned when he felt my hand on his back.

“You have quite the collection of photos,” he remarked, snaking his arm around my waist. “I like this one. That hat is a bit daft, but it suits you.”

“I thought you’d be used to seeing ridiculous hats since you grew up in Ascot.”

He chuckled. “Fair point. Come here. I want to show you something.”

Leading me back to the couch, he waited until I was settled before reaching in his back pocket. Visibly shaking, he removed something from his wallet. Seeing him like this was too much. Every barrier he used was broken. He sat with a sigh, staring at the floor.

I eyed what appeared to be a folded piece of paper with interest. Alastair handed it to me.

"Open it," he said in a hushed tone.

As soon as I touched it, I knew it was an old photo. The paper was soft and worn from being folded. Faded ink on the back was hard to read, but I managed to make out a date - December 1984.

I unfolded it and gasped. An attractive young couple cuddled two children in front of a Christmas tree. The man had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a very familiar smile. The woman's long, dark red hair fell softly over her shoulder. Her green eyes sparkled.

The little girl in the picture looked to be about ten or eleven years old. Her curly blonde hair rested just above her shoulders. Mischief glinted in her brown eyes. She was hugging a boy who looked no older than five. Smiling proudly, he was clutching a toy helicopter. Those emerald eyes and chocolate-red hair were unmistakable.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered.

"That picture was taken the Christmas before the accident." His voice tightened. "As you can see, I was quite excited about that toy helicopter."

Trying to keep myself together, I rested my head on his shoulder. A door to his past had opened.

“What are their names? Your mom and dad?"

“Daniel and Rose," he answered thinly.

"You have your dad's smile."

"Think so?" His breath tickled my forehead.

I nodded, soaking in their joyful faces.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

He inhaled sharply, tensing. “Grace.”

I lifted my head, catching his gaze. The raw emotion that spilled from his eyes drowned me. All these years later, he was still hurting. I wanted to be a pillar of strength for him, show him that he could talk to me about anything.

“That’s my middle name.”

Smiling briefly, he cocked his head to the side. “Is it?”

“Mmhmm. How much older was she?” I placed the photo on the table.

“Um.” He shifted nervously. "She was five when I was born."

The sudden openness about his family shocked me. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable or have to reveal too much, I decided to keep things light.

"Speaking as the older sibling, I took great pride in torturing my sister, Dayna, when we were kids. I convinced her that since the carpet in her bedroom was dark blue, it meant sharks lived in it. She was petrified to walk on it."

"You're awful." Alastair squeezed my waist, pausing to think. "Grace dressed me up as girl once. I was four. She told my mum and dad she'd rather have a sister. They went right along with it. Called me Allison for days."

"You have got to be kidding me. That's hilarious." I burst into a fit a giggles.

"I've never told anyone that before. Thanks for being so sensitive.”

"Did she put a little wig on you?"

Alastair narrowed his eyes, a salacious grin curling his lips. "You’re on thin ice."

Grabbing at my waist, he tickled me fast and hard. I shrieked, but made no real effort to stop him. If anything, I wanted to draw this side out of him even more. Catching me off guard, he grabbed my hips and flipped me back on the couch so he could sit on my legs.

Leaning in for a quick kiss, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Climbing off me, he offered a hand to help me sit up.

“You must miss them terribly.” I cringed at my own stupidity for saying that out loud.

“I try not to dwell.” The muscles in his jaw twitched. I felt awful for making him talk about it.

“I’m sorry.“

“Don’t be. It’s different talking about this with you. I just…” He paused, wetting his lips. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

I took that to mean he was finished with the heart to heart.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I said, folding the picture and handing it back to him. Once it was securely tucked in his wallet, he enveloped me in a warm embrace. We sank into the cushions, arms and legs entangled. I focused on the softness of his hair, running my fingers through it. So much had happened since last night. Alastair hugged me tighter, sending sparks shooting through me.

You make me feel too much. It hurts.

Was this what he meant? Did he not allow himself to properly grieve over the loss of his family? I wanted to know everything. I wanted to crawl inside his mind and watch the movies of his past. The man who sat next to me was more than the aggressive, cool-as-ice guy who pursued me relentlessly in Glasgow. He was broken.
Damaged
. But so was I. My own insecurities were too deeply engraved for me to ignore. The outer shell I wore wasn’t as fortified as Alastair’s. He’d strengthened it over decades. Mine was new, a badge I’d earned from two years of being told that I wasn’t living up to someone else’s idea of what a ‘real’ woman should be.

Two years of trying to see the light in someone who embraced the dark. Two years of being a possession, an object to control and manipulate. In relationships, I was weak. Alastair needed someone strong.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The first text message came during the middle of Monday afternoon’s editorial meeting. I grabbed my phone, turning off the sound. Bruce didn’t mind if we always had our phones attached at the hip, he just preferred the volume to be turned off during a meeting. By the time I got back to my desk, I had notifications for six new texts.

Feeling uneasy, I looked at the messages. Most of them were from Stephanie. Breathing out a relieved sigh, I responded to her. She wanted to have a girls’ night, complete with Chinese take out and bad reality television. We hadn’t done that in a long time, so I told her to be at my place for eight. Alastair was tied up with meetings and conference calls until late and told me he’d stop by later. I’d given him the extra key to my apartment and left his name at the guard’s gate.

The other two texts were from Dayna, just to say hi and fill me in on her new promotion at the magazine.

I couldn’t shake the weird feeling all those notifications gave me. I hadn’t been bombarded with texts like that since the week before I left for Glasgow. Those had all been from Nathan, telling me how much he missed me and wanted me back. He’d been suspiciously quiet since Saturday’s incident. I assumed he would have called or texted or shown up unannounced to be a jerk about it.

Maybe he’s finally moved on and cares less about what I do in my spare time.

I shivered.

The remainder of the afternoon flew by. A steady stream of good stories kept the newsroom humming. Days like this were rare, so we took advantage of as many of them as we could. About half an hour before the show went live, Vance walked over and plopped himself down on the corner of my desk. My phone beeped. Another text from Stephanie.

4:27pm PS - I sent my portfolio to Darren’s company. Eek!

“Message from a secret admirer?”

I looked up at Vance, nearly blinded by his ultra-whitened teeth.

“Nope. Girl talk.” I grinned.

He nodded, holding up two ties. “Which one?”

“Uh…”
They’re both hideous.
“I thought you were going to wear that chocolate brown suit?”

“I was,” he complained, “until Jeanie told Cynthia to wear orange.”

“Orange?” I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, you mean that burnt orange suit she just bought. Yeah, I can see why don’t want to wear brown.”

“I may not know much about clothes, but I do know I don’t want to look like a Halloween display in the middle of May.”

I laughed and helped Vance pick something that wouldn’t clash too horribly with Cynthia’s outfit. In the end, we decided on charcoal gray. It probably wouldn’t win us any points in the world of high fashion, but for local television news, it was going to have to do.

The broadcast was a good one, chock full of informative and interesting stories. Vance and Cynthia were in rare form, cracking jokes and engaging in effortless banter when appropriate. Everyone usually dragged on a Monday, but I left the newsroom feeling great about the start of the new week.

Dropping the mail on the kitchen table, I tried to tidy up the apartment before Stephanie got here. It wasn’t huge by anyone's standards, but it was cozy. The high ceilings helped make it appear open and airy.

Stephanie arrived with the food, excited and flushed about her new job prospect.

“I can’t believe I sent them my portfolio,” she squeaked, scooping out a hefty serving of lo mein.

“This is so exciting. Did you send it to that girl, Cassie?”

She nodded. “She gave me her business card at the cocktail party. We’ve been in touch ever since. She sounded really serious about my going back out there for a formal interview.”

“Do you already have one set up?” I took a bite from an egg roll.

“No. Cassie said she’d email me as soon as she showed the department head my work. I’m dying. I mean, look, my palms are sweating.”

I reached over and felt her hands. “Ew. Yep. They’re clammy and gross,” I teased.

“Argh, Lia,” she exclaimed. “This is life changing. What if they want me? I can’t leave Orlando.”

Dropping my chopsticks, I leaned back in the chair. “Stephanie Ann Tempe, stop talking shit. You can and you will leave Orlando, especially if you’re offered your dream job.” She blinked at me. “Oh my God, it’s only Scotland. It’s not like you’d be shipping off to Antarctica. And what about Darren? He must be over the moon about all this.”

“I talked to him at least thirty times today. He’s so excited. He said he’ll clean out the spare room at his townhouse so I’ll have a place to stay.”

“See? You already have a built in support system. It’s perfect.” I popped the rest of the egg roll in my mouth and grinned. My phone beeped. Assuming it was Alastair, I checked it.

8:33pm Still need to settle our unfinished business.