Catch My Breath (30 page)

Scanning the living room, I noticed several bags from various clothing stores.

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I got here yesterday.”

“Did a little shopping already?” I pointed to the bags.

“Yeah, I suppose,” he sighed. “I flew here with no luggage. I needed a few things.”

I stopped mid-chew.
No luggage? He flew across the Atlantic with nothing?

Seeming to hear my thoughts, he answered, “I just wanted to get here. So long as I had my passport, everything else was secondary.”

I finished the mouthful of food and had some juice. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in the romantic notion that he was so distraught he hopped on a plane with just the clothes on his back to get to me. I wasn’t that delusional. It did hit me that the clothes he’d let me borrow didn’t smell of his cologne. Looking down, I noticed something round and shiny on the boxer shorts. I peeled off a clear sticker with a capital M on it.

“Guess I’m the first one to wear these,” I said, adhering the sticker to my finger and holding it up.

“Missed that one,” he smiled, standing up.

Assuming he was going to use the bathroom, I started when instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hugging me tightly.

Melting into his embrace, I hugged him back with just as much force. His heart pounded so quickly, it vibrated against me. I think he needed this more than I did. I think he needed to know I wasn’t abhorred by him and what happened at the estate. I let him hug me as long as he wanted. Pushing out a shaky sigh, he stepped back and studied my face.

“You’re beautiful with no make-up.”

Throwing him a skeptical glance, I huffed, “Nice line.”

“I mean it,” he responded, unabashed. “So delicate and strong. If we make it through this, I still hope to photograph you one day.”

“Do you want to make it through this?”

“Yes.” He cupped my cheeks, fixing a heated stare on me. “I want this. I want you.”

“Then why did you push me away? Why did you make me feel like that?” I lost some of the grasp I had on my emotions. I didn’t want to break apart in front of him, especially when he had so much to explain.

Guiding me to the couch, he waited for me get settled on the cushion before sitting and facing me.

"It was my fault," he muttered. "I caused the accident."

“What?”

“I killed my family,” he said slowly, clenching his jaw.

“No you didn’t. You said someone fell asleep at the wheel and—“

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, anger flaring in his eyes. “I was pestering Grace. My parents told me to stop but I didn't. I thought it would be funny to unbuckle her seatbelt. She started yelling that I was annoying her, so my mum turned around and my dad looked at me through the rearview mirror. They never saw the other car cross over the line."

His eyes glazed over.

"At the hospital, when the doctors were talking to my aunt and uncle, I heard them say that if,” he swallowed hard, “if Grace had been wearing a seatbelt, she would have lived. It's my fault she died."

Speechless. I was absolutely speechless. Rationally, I knew a six-year-old boy didn’t cause a fatal accident. The rawness of his guilt left me breathless.

"Alastair," I said calmly, stroking his hair. "None of it was your fault. The oth—.”

"Do not say that,” he yelled violently. His entire body shook.

The remnants of his outburst and their underlying pain hung in the air while the ebb and flow of time, movement and breathing stopped. This scar was deep.

"You've been holding on to this guilt for too many years. You have to forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself?" He choked out the words. "I killed my family. I'm no better than any other criminal locked up in prison."

"You’re not a criminal. You were a little boy teasing his sister in a car. Do you know how many times Dayna and I fought in the car on road trips? I thought hearing my mom say ‘
do you want your father to pull this car over?
’ was a standard vacation announcement.”

He blinked.

“There was an accident, Alastair. Someone else caused it."

"You don't understand,” he insisted. "They were distracted. They didn't see the other car. My father could have swerved to avoid it if he had. They're dead because of me." Pain and guilt ravaged his body. I was powerless to stop the onslaught of emotion pouring out of him. He had kept it locked away for years and years.

"I should have died with them."

It took a second for me to realize the agonizing moan that echoed through the room was mine.

“You don't mean that," I whispered.

"I do," he answered, looking at the floor.

This was too much for me to handle. My body vibrated with a frantic need. I just didn’t know what it was or how to deal with it. I didn’t want him to say those things about himself. I didn’t want him to feel this guilt anymore. I couldn’t help him. I sat, debilitated by my own failure to make this all go away for him.

Then, I got angry.

“Look at me,” I ordered, straddling his lap. He took a second, then did as he was told.

“Say that again,” I demanded.

“Why?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me again how you wished you’d died in that crash,” I shouted. He stared at me, not moving. I watched the tears gather around his eyes like a growing storm. They never fell. They just glistened.

He shook his head, placing his hands on my waist.

“I dream about Grace. It’s always the same. We’re children, playing in the yard. Everything’s fine and then I start teasing her. She gets upset and leaves. But as she’s walking away, she promises she’ll stay the next time if I stop bothering her. I yell and cry to get her to stay, but she never does.”

He brushed his thumb across my lips.

“The night you were with me, I thought I’d finally caught her. I was holding onto her. It felt so real. When I woke up and saw you cowering at the edge of the bed, I knew I’d been holding onto you. I never apologized for that.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I said those awful things to you when my grandfather got sick.”

I swallowed back a thick, sandpapery lump. “You were hurting. It’s the only way you knew how to react.”

“Not with…I don’t want to be that way. Not with you.”

Slumping his shoulders, he bowed his head. It destroyed me to see him so upset.

“It wasn’t just your words,” I said gently. “When you turned your back on me, it felt like you threw a bag of bricks at my chest.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” I tilted his chin up, “Just don’t do it again.”

A small grin curved his lips.

“I knew the minute I saw you, that you were different from the others.”

“Why? Because I don’t know how to walk in heels when I’m overtired?”

I jumped at his gentle squeeze. “No. What you’re doing right here. You keep me on my toes. You have no pretenses. You’re not afraid to call me out on things. It’s…remember the night we met, when you looked through the car window but didn’t see me?”

I nodded.

“You did, Lia. These beautiful amber eyes saw through me without realizing what they’d done. Catching you at the bar and having you stare directly into my soul again only intensified what I already knew.”

“And what was that?”

“I wanted you,” he said, lowering his tone. “I didn’t know how it was going to happen, I just knew it had to.”

“Well,” I sighed. “That explains your intense seduction techniques.”

“Intense?”

“Yeah. You came after me like a dog in heat. Stephanie even picked up on it.”

He smirked. “Did she?”

“Hey.” I poked him in the chest. “Focus on the matter at hand.”

“You’re the matter at hand,” he murmured, brushing his lips on my cheek. “I shouldn’t have pushed you out and told you I didn’t need you. The truth is…”

His eyes clouded over.

No, no, no. He’s so close
.

I remained as calm as possible, waiting for him to find his balance again. Even if he did stop now, I’d be satisfied with everything he’d shared already. There was so much to process. Resting my forehead on his, we sat in a quiet embrace. I closed my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. The serenity of this moment washed over me, making me realize just how much I cared for him. We were both broken by different sets of misfortune, but we’d managed to find our way to one another.

The aggressive, controlling guy I’d met in Glasgow was still there. He’d always be there. He just needed to find his own way through all the years of pain and suppressed emotion. If he wanted me to, I’d be with him every step of the way, but that wasn’t for me to decide.

Banding his arms around my waist, he pulled me closer. I snuggled against him, content we’d survived the biggest hurdle thrown our way so far. It wouldn’t be perfect. It certainly wouldn’t be easy but I was willing to try.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"What's wrong?"

I ignored Alastair’s question and kept staring at the black sports car parked in front of my unit.

"Do you know that car?"

He pulled into an open spot and cut the engine.

“Who is that?"

Shit.

Nobody was sitting in it. Icy water coursed through my veins.

How did he get in here?

“Oh my God,” I grunted, jumping out of the car and bolting through the door.

“Nathan,” I called out. “Nathan, where are you?”

His tall figure appeared from the doorway to my bedroom.

“Hello, Lia.”

A blur of color flew by me as Alastair lunged at him. I grabbed hold of his shirt before he could make it across the room.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" he demanded.

"I have a key,
mate
," he gloated.

“No you don’t,” I seethed. “You stole it.”

“Correction. I borrowed it from the leasing office after a romp in the mailroom with what’s-her-name. She was very accommodating. Even put my name on the entry list.”

“You son of a—“

“Easy, Lia. We don’t want to say things we’ll regret.” His dark blue eyes seared through Alastair. “My girlfriend and I have things to discuss. Go wait outside.”

"Get out," Alastair growled. "Or I’ll put you out myself."

The material on his shirt stretched as he tried to move closer to Nathan. I tightened my grip on it. I wasn’t about to have a fight break out in my living room.

Nathan laughed and folded his arms. "Always ready to scuffle, this one. Did he tell you how our last meeting ended, Lia?"

The strength drained from my body. I lost my hold on Alastair’s shirt, stumbling backwards. He secured his arm around my waist, holding me up.

“Keeping secrets from my girl? That’s not nice, Holden.”

The walls closed in, crushing me. I saw how their last meeting ended, didn’t I? I was there, in a heap on the floor.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“He has a quick right hook,” he answered with a smug grin.

If I hadn’t been using Alastair for support to stand, he would have shot across the room like a bullet. All his muscles tensed.

"Nathan, just go,” I requested harshly.

“We still have to talk.”

My vision blurred. Holding a hand to the side of my head, I glared in his direction. “No, we don’t. You said all you had to say when your fist went through the wall. We’re done.”

“You never gave me a chance to explain,” he lamented. “I’m not proud of what happened that day or at the Black and White Ball. You know how I get. I would never hurt you.”

I stiffened.

Alastair tightened his hold on my waist. Baring his teeth, he ordered, “Get out. Now. While you still have legs to walk on.”

"I thought you Brits were supposed to be polite. Or does that not apply to you?" He scowled. "I guess all the money in the world can't buy you manners."

“That’s enough. Both of you. I'm not going to have you two ruin my apartment with some crazy fight. Nathan, leave. Now. If you want to tell me whatever it is you feel is so important, say it now. Otherwise, stop bothering me."

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Have it your way, Lia. Don't say I didn't try."

Before walking out the door, he stopped and looked at me. He’d dropped the tough guy act and for a nanosecond, appeared to be the charming person I’d met a lifetime ago.

“Take care of yourself, Sparkle. No matter what, you were always my favorite girl.”

He smiled. It was the first genuine one I’d seen on his face in months. I glared at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

His eyes hardened. “We’ll talk soon.”

It sounded more like a threat than a promise. He walked out, slamming the door. The bang echoed through the room. Neither one of us moved for several minutes after he left.

“I need to see if he touched anything,” I muttered, walking into the bedroom. Nothing was out of place. The bed wasn't even rumpled. It didn't make me feel any better.

“You should change your locks first thing in the morning.” Alastair said, standing in the doorway.

“Right,” I replied, folding my arms. "You punched him?"

He flinched at my tone.

“When did it happen?” I tried to keep calm.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“When did it happen?” I repeated louder.

Expressionless and stoic, he leaned against the doorframe. “The Monday after he manhandled you at the hotel,” he grumbled. “I wanted to have a little chat with him so we had an understanding when it came to you. He wasn’t too receptive.”

“The night you came here at two in the morning?”

Scowling, he nodded.

“How did you know where to find him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered smoothly.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “Were you planning on telling me about this clandestine meeting?”

“No.”

I paced the room. “Why is it that every time we make any headway, I get knocked back twenty feet by something?”

“I didn’t want to upset you about this. He seems to think you belong to him. You don’t. I made it clear you’re not available.”