Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) (22 page)

“
We
? You and me? Or me and your family, once you’re out of the picture again? Once we tell Camille she has a father and let her know you that way, and then you disappear from her life. She’s already known one man who couldn’t be bothered to be a real parent to her. She doesn’t need another.”

“What if Brad’s her father?” Oliver felt the possibility twist in his gut.

“Do you want him to be?”

Selena’s heart was in her eyes, every lost thing about her that Oliver had once thought he could save.

“See what I mean?” she said when he couldn’t find his voice. “See how complicated this gets? You don’t know what you’re feeling yet. You don’t know if you really want my daughter in your life. Or if you just want to not hurt anybody. And all
I
can think about is that you should be furious. All of you should be. And then I worry what that kind of messed-up dynamic could do to my daughter.”

“A part of me was pissed at first,” he admitted. “Stunned. And then angry again, for like a second, when I met you two out front of your mother’s. And then I saw Camille’s eyes . . .”

Selena collapsed against the side of the car. “A lot of people have green eyes.”

He conceded her point, trying not to let the panic show—how thinking of Camille being Brad’s felt like losing something infinitely precious, before it had even been his to begin with.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” he said, wishing he could hold her and make her see that the last thing he’d ever want was for her daughter to feel anything but happy and secure. Things Selena had deserved to feel her entire life.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.” She fumbled with her tote bag’s strap. “I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to tell your family about Camille on my own.”

“We need to talk. Brad and Dru and you and me, we need—”

She turned away and got her driver’s door open with a screech. She tossed her bag inside. And then she slapped her palms on the roof of the car. Collecting herself, she faced Oliver again, a tough, confident woman.

“We what?” she asked.

“My father might be dying . . .” It wanted to explode inside Oliver—how close his family was to the incomprehensible. “He might have already missed meeting his first grandchild. If he recovers, we have to make sure he’ll have that chance.”

Oliver watched Selena swallow. Hard.

“Brad and Dru are getting married in a few months,” he pressed. “My mother’s got a houseful of kids and me—
me
—as her best fallback plan to keep Family Services satisfied until we know how things are going to shake out for the toddler my parents just signed on to foster. I have no experience with kids, a full-time job demanding my attention all over the globe—
if
I don’t lose every potential client I have lined up because I can’t schedule a damn thing with every minute of my day up in the air the way it is right now. And on top of it all, I’m dealing with maybe having a child of my own to be responsible for. I can’t let any of it drop. I won’t. I’ll find a way to work through it all. And
we
can find a way to deal with Camille responsibly, if you’ll let us try.”

“My daughter is the best thing that ever happened to my life. She’s not something to be dealt with. She’s no one else’s responsibility. I’m not going down that road again, Oliver, to feeling . . .”

“To feeling what?”

There was some big ugly still playing out between Selena and her estranged husband. Oliver was certain of it.

“Trapped.” She choked out the word. “That’s what you’re telling me. Where my child is concerned, I’m trapped into doing what you want. Or I’ll be depriving your parents of their grandchild.”

“I’m telling you that you and your daughter already belong with my family, if you’ll just find some way to trust that we have your best interest at heart. Are there some hurt feelings still? Sure. But we all made mistakes when we were kids.”

He thought about Travis and Dru, his siblings’ forgiveness, and how his parents had welcomed him back with open arms. Now there was one other person he needed to make amends to.

“When we were eighteen,” he continued, “I pushed too hard for you to get better—for
me
—before you were ready to deal with your drinking for yourself. I made you feel abandoned. And I knew how messed up you still were about your dad leaving. I made you think that if you didn’t do what I wanted, you’d have no one. And then I left you behind when it all imploded, just the way you were afraid I would.
I’m
sorry for that, Selena. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I slept with your best friend, who may have gotten me pregnant.” Self-loathing dripped from each word. “I didn’t stick around long enough to even know I was expecting. And by the time I found out, the last thing I’d have considered was begging anyone in Chandlerville for help.”

“You wouldn’t have had to beg. You’re among friends here. Family. A part of you must have believed that, or you wouldn’t have come home again.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You wouldn’t still be in town, you wouldn’t be talking to me now, if you were really . . .”

“Scared? I’m terrified. Of all of you.”

“Including your ex?”

Oliver wanted a few minutes alone with this Parker character, to explore exactly what had happened in New York. And no matter his intentions to just talk and nothing else, he wanted Selena in his arms again—to comfort and reassure both of them. To kiss and excite. To need and feel her craving him again.

But her gaze had grown haunted.

“The way I see it, you’re fighting to get things right with Belinda so Camille will have a grandmother. So she’ll feel safe and secure. Let her have my family to help with that, too. Let them be a good thing for her.”

“Just them?” Selena asked, nailing him, demanding an honest response when he didn’t have one. “What about you?”

What about him?

Was he a father or an uncle? It shouldn’t matter which. But it did. It scared the spit out of Oliver, how much it did.

“I’ll make this work” was all he could promise. “Whatever’s best for everyone.”

Selena looked . . . disappointed, and like she wanted to press the issue. But people were spilling into the parking lot. His and Selena’s talk was about to become fresh fodder for the local gossips.

“I won’t bother you at another meeting,” he promised.

“But what about your program while you’re home?”

“I’ll find another place.”

“You relapsed two years ago. It’s been seven for me. I don’t come all that often.”

“You felt like you needed to be here tonight.”

Selena laughed. “And whose fault was that?”

“This is your meeting. Don’t worry about me.”

“After what I just heard, I
do
worry about you.”

Oliver stilled at her admission. The noise and bustle around them faded. A warm breeze blew a tendril of brown hair forward, over her shoulder. He longed to brush it away.

“I can skip for now,” he insisted, “if—”

“No. You can’t.” Genuine concern. Soft eyes. With no effort at all, she blew through all his best intentions.

Oliver allowed himself to touch.

Her hair. The skin on her long, smooth neck above the scooped collar of her T-shirt. Just the tips of his fingers, sliding down to the pulse beating madly at Selena’s throat, while he absorbed the wonder of her caring enough to berate him about his sobriety.

“Don’t risk your own recovery for me,” she pleaded, their mouths inches apart.

“I won’t be responsible for you risking yours. You have no idea how proud I am of what you’ve accomplished.” He hadn’t meant to let this get personal. But the words kept coming. “You’re healthy. You need to stay healthy for Camille. That’s what’s important.”

“That will never change.”

Tears glistened at his praise, making her eyes sparkle. She stood a little taller. Her attention dropped to his mouth, slid back up to his eyes.

“From the moment I realized I was pregnant,” she said, “I stopped drinking. I found my first meeting. No matter what happens . . . I’ll never go back.”

“No, you won’t. Neither will I. This is hard, I know. But we’re both going to get through it sober.”

She bit her bottom lip. Then, tentatively, she nodded, trusting him at least that much.

Oliver was proud of Selena’s sobriety . . .

And he was touching her. Until his fingertips slid away, so gently she could have imagined them being there at all. Her body betrayed her, wanting to be closer, no matter the people trickling out of the meeting or the cars pulling out of the parking lot. She was flat-out desperate to lose herself in Oliver’s commitment to make sure they kept each other healthy and on track.

She forced herself to step back, pressing against Fred’s solid presence.

“Be proud of yourself,” she insisted. “You’re doing this for your family, remember? And we both know what happened the last time we tried to help each other.”

He put even more distance between them. “I didn’t mean that my family is all I care about. It’s just . . . you’re important to me, too, Selena. You always will be. And Camille. I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone.”

His halting admission melted away the last of her anger.

She should leave, before she said or did something more she’d regret.

The world had felt like it was closing in on her all day, while she stayed home with her daughter. The situation with the Dixons. Belinda’s revelation. Camille’s latest attack. The memory, every time she’d walked past the living room, of how right it had felt to be in Oliver’s arms again. His oh-so-logical arguments about getting to the bottom of Camille’s paternity. Parker’s daily call, pressuring her again to come “home” to him. Her mother had been right. Selena had needed her meeting.

And still, she’d circled the shopping center twice before going inside.
After
she’d talked herself out of driving Fred until she had to fill up his tank. At a station miles away. Run by people she didn’t know and would never see again. Strangers somewhere beyond Chandlerville who wouldn’t think twice about a woman buying a six-pack and loitering in their parking lot while she drank it. Instead, she’d gotten herself together and made it here. Only to be standing with Oliver again, basking in how good it felt.

It was a slippery slope . . . One with razor-sharp edges that would slice her heart to ribbons if she kept remembering his kiss. Kept seeing him every time her daughter smiled. Kept fantasizing
about making the Dixons and their perfect family a part of Camille’s life.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “Please don’t ask me to make what my daughter’s going through any harder than it is.”

He stepped closer, him and all that tempting heat. “No one wants either of you to be afraid. Trust me not to let that happen. Meet with Brad and Dru and me. We’ll figure out a next step that works for everyone.” At Selena’s disbelieving snort, he dug in. “Just think about it.”

He sounded so reasonable, so grounded and responsible and genuinely concerned.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” she heard herself say. She thought of what he’d shared inside. “You’ve been through so much already, and I—”

“I’m not sorry.” He grinned at her disbelieving stare. “Okay, once or twice a day I’m desperate to fall off the face of the earth again, because all of this is so surreal.”

“Oh, thank God!” She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep herself from giggling. “Thank
God
I’m not the only one who just wants this all to go away. Joe’s heart attack, too. I hope he’s going to be okay now that he’s having a bypass. I really do.”

“Yeah. I think worrying about him is part of why I handled yesterday so badly.”

She eased a little closer, knowing she shouldn’t. “And the other part?”

“I wasn’t expecting it,” he said. “How much I might want Camille to be mine . . . A daughter? That’s a lot to process.”

“You
might
want her?” Selena’s heart sank. “You have to be sure, Oliver. For the right reasons. I know it’s a lot to think about, being an instant dad. But you’ll hurt her if you’re not sure. No matter how much your family might love her, she’ll want her dad, too.”

“And Parker wasn’t sure?”

“My marriage was a train wreck for a lot of reasons.” Not the least of which was that from the start Selena had still been in love with someone else. “It didn’t help that Parker saw being a father and a husband as a business asset more than a blessing. Camille was never really a factor in his life, neither one of us was, except for window dressing.”

“So you got out?”

“Damn straight. And I’m not setting my child up for more disappointment.”

Oliver’s touch slid down her arm until they were holding hands.

“Give me a chance,” he said, “to prove to you that I can handle this.”

“You’re good at it now, you know?”

He seemed surprised.

“Handling people.” She remembered anew the boy he’d been and the mess they’d made of loving each other. Because her problems had been unfixable then, and he’d refused to accept it. “Negotiating. Maneuvering people, until you figure out how to solve their problems. You’ve gotten really good at it.”

Oliver dug his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, cocking his hip in a bad-boy-done-good stance. “All I’m trying to maneuver you into is talking with my sister and her fiancé and me. Nothing more.”