Darker Than Desire (39 page)

Adam stepped aside, but Lana put her hand on the door. “Where is he?”

“David?” A smile curved Jensen's face. “The last I heard, he was over at Sybil's.”

Lana's eyes widened.

Jensen grinned. “A couple of uniforms dropped them off. All three of them, at Sybil's place. And David followed her inside. I guess maybe he wasn't burning his bridges quite as spectacularly as I'd thought he was.”

Lana moved away from the door and Jensen paused before she headed out. “Full circle for all of you, huh?”

Just before Jensen shut the door, she heard a phone ringing. Noah's, she thought. The ring was “The Imperial March”—he was always getting phone calls.

*   *   *

In the doorway, her head propped against the doorjamb, Sybil watched the two boys.

Darnell had spent nearly an hour on the phone with his mom. That was
after
they'd spent nearly an hour up at the hospital, too. Sybil had told Taneisha the boys were her heroes.

She'd meant it.

Somewhere off in the quiet of the house was another one, although he'd never believe that.

He'd come back, but she still wasn't sure if he meant to
stay
this time.

If he didn't, she was done.

She'd already decided what she'd do.

She was going to talk to the Realtor, see about putting her mother's house up for sale. And she'd leave. She was also going to talk to a lawyer about getting custody of Drew, if it came to that. Layla might not fight her on it, but if she had to, she'd do it. He belonged with her and all three of them knew it. Drew did; Layla did. Sybil knew it as well.

If David would let it happen, the three of them could have a family, be happy, right here.

But if he wouldn't, then she was done chasing after him.

Hearing a soft sound at the end of the hall, she looked up.

He stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching her. Most of his face was lost to the shadows, but the light streaming through the small window high up on the wall fell across his eyes, and only his eyes. The intensity of that gaze stole the breath from her lungs. So much that she felt her chest growing tight.

Looking back into the room where the boys slept, she gripped the doorknob in a death grip. “You said you had to make some calls earlier. Did you?”

That had been nearly three hours ago. Weird time to think of it, but she was fumbling, reaching for anything to occupy her mind now that the boys were tucked in bed and she had nothing else to keep her from turning to him, reaching for him.

Begging him.

She hadn't stooped that low before.

She wasn't going to now.

She hoped.

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice so low she barely heard it.

The boards creaked under his feet as he came closer. “Come downstairs.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard.

She'd have to do that, eventually. She couldn't just linger in the hallway and stare at the kids all night.

After a minute, she pried her fingers away from the door and then turned toward him. His hand moved to the small of her back as she started down the hall, and she was almost painfully aware of his touch, aware of the way his palm lay flat against her skin.

She was quiet, waiting for him to start in on one of his
I should leave. I should go
. But he was oddly silent, even after she tucked herself in her chair, arms folded over her chest. He moved to the window, staring outside. Moonlight shone in on him.

Something's different
, Sybil thought. She didn't know what. Couldn't explain it. But it was different.

Then he turned his head to look at her. A fist slammed into her heart. There was a faint smile on his face.

A real one. Not that bitter slant, not the mockery of a smile. A faint smile, like he'd thought of something that amused him. Swallowing, she shifted up, sat a little straight as he pushed off the wall and started toward her. She almost asked him what he was smiling about but decided she didn't want to know.

“What will happen with Sarah?”

That stopped him in his tracks and the smile faded. Now his face was stark, set in those harsh, familiar lines. “I don't know.” He looked down, stared at the floor. “She killed Louisa, Brumley, Max. She killed Abraham.”

David lifted his head, staring at Sybil from under his lashes. “Abraham wasn't her father. I didn't know that until today. Her father…” He let the words trail off as he looked away, staring at something she couldn't see. “Her father hurt her. I was told that he'd knocked her down once so hard she broke her arm when she fell. Abraham rescued her from that. And she killed him. Because he was in the way.”

Sybil came off the couch, shaking her head. “That isn't
your
fault.”

“No.” He nodded. “Logically, I understand. It feels like it is, but logically … I know that. She was sick. She must have been that way all her life and none of us saw it.
I
never saw it. And I still wanted to kill her when I came in here and saw her holding a gun to you. I
could
have killed her.”

His gaze came back to Sybil. Her heart lurched, then started to bang against her ribs so hard, she had to struggle just to breathe. As he moved closer, the air in the room dwindled down to nothing. He reached up, touched her lips. “I don't know what I would have done if she'd hurt you. If she'd taken you from me.”

Mouth dry, Sybil stood there, frozen.

He was even closer now. When had he gotten that close?

She didn't know, but he seemed to surround her, arms locked over her shoulders, bracketing her in, his face filling her vision and the warm, dark scent of him flooding her senses. “David, I—”

“You told me to leave,” he said, cutting her off.

She swallowed.
Yes
.

He backed away, looked around. “I don't feel like I know how to belong to anybody. To a family.”

“David, there's no rule book. Families don't come with instructions,” she said, forcing the words out. “We figure it out. We make it work.”

He turned and walked away.

Her heart ripped open and despite her intentions not to beg, she found herself following him. He didn't head toward the door, though.

He went down the hall.

Toward her … bedroom?

He stood there. Looking inside. “I know where I feel like I belong,” he said, his voice gruff. “It's with you.”

She scowled at his back. “With me … in my bedroom?”

He looked back at her. “With you. Anywhere.” Then he looked back, stared hard at her bed. “I hate the bed, though.”

And once more, he started to walk, edging around her and heading into the living room.

She found him staring outside.

“David, would you—”

He moved to the door at the exact time she heard a knock.

She shot a look at the clock. It was past eleven. “Who in the hell…”

Noah stood there.

Behind Noah was Adam.

And there was a third man, younger than the others. Narrowing her eyes, she moved in, frowning as she took in the simple blue shirt, the brown trousers, the hat that covered the dark bowl of his hair. He was familiar.
Wait—

Thomas. That was Thomas. He worked with David on a lot of the projects when some of the Amish builders got involved.

“What's going on?” she asked flatly.

David took her hand and tugged her outside. She was too confused to stop him, and then fifteen seconds later she yelped as her feet hit the cold concrete. “Damn it, it's
cold
,” she said, jerking against his hand.

David just picked her up.

A sharp breath of air gusted out of her in shock. “Put me down. I can go get—”

He came to a stop at the foot of his truck and then he put her down, settling her so that she stood on his shoes. He wrapped his arms around her, his larger body warming hers.

She said nothing, staring into the back of the truck, puzzling through what lay in front of her.

“Abraham helped me build it. It was the first thing I ever made with my hands,” David said softly.

Sybil licked her lips as her gaze landed on the headboard. It was simple, the lines clean, masculine. “A bed.” She smiled. “This is your bed.”

“I don't like yours.”

Wiggling around, she managed to work her arms around his neck. She stared into his eyes, resting her brow against his. “You don't like my bed, so I get to keep yours? What else do I get?”

He reached up and caught one of her hands, guided it back down until he could press it to his heart. “You can't have the bed unless I get to stay, too. You told me not to come back. Unless I came to stay.”

Her heart trembled. Sybil could feel it and everything else inside her was shaking, too.

“David?”

“You were right. And I've been an ass. I'm sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her eyelids, her cheeks, ghosting one along her mouth before he moved to murmur in her ear, “I don't feel like I'm good enough for you. I don't feel like I ever will be. But I know I love you. I love you too much to let you go, so I'm going to just have to spend the rest of my life making myself good enough.”

*   *   *

“David…”

She was crying.

“Sybil.” Cupping her face in his hands, he brushed the tears away. “Don't cry. Please don't. Please don't.…” He kissed another tear away, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers. “If it's too late, I understand. If you need time, just tell me. I'll—”

She clutched his shirt in her hands and her mouth slanted over his.

That kiss tasted of tears. And smiles. A second later, she broke away to look up at him. “Shut up. Just shut up a minute.”

Then she leaned back against him, laid her mouth to his. Softer than the last time, and he groaned, dipping a hand into her hair, twining the curls around his fist. Her curves molded to him. Through their clothes, he felt the softness of her, felt the cool air teasing his skin.

“Sybil,” he rasped, drawing back a moment later to stare into her eyes.

She laid a hand on his cheek. “For almost ten years, I waited for you. Ten years, David.”

He covered her hand with his, throat too tight to speak, and the words wouldn't come anyway.

Sybil leaned in, twining her free arm around his neck. “You realize, though, now that I got you, the last thing I'm going to do is let you get away … ever.”

“I can live with that.” He turned his face into her hair and breathed in the scent of her. “I was coming back. Even before today. I'd already figured it out, Sybil. I was coming back.”

“Hey!” Adam's voice was a bark in the night. “You dragged me out of a perfectly warm bar to trot out to no-man's-land for this bed. Are you going to help us get it set up or what?”

David lifted his head, opening his mouth.

Sybil clapped a hand over his lips before he could speak. “Damn straight he's going to help.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “The way I see it, we've got a lot of time to make up for anyway. I'd rather not waste it out here in the cold.”

 

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Shiloh Walker
has been writing since she was a kid. She loves reading and writing anything paranormal, anything fantasy, and nearly every kind of romance. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She has authored dozens of works of romantic suspense, contemporary and paranormal romance, and urban fantasy under the name J.C. Daniels. Visit her on the Web at
www.shilohwalker.com
to learn more, or sign up for email updates
here
.

 

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