Penance (Long Slow Tease, #2) (29 page)

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” she glanced at Wyatt then back to Wendy. “Because it feeds my soul. I need to do something that will help others. It gives me a sense of purpose. I can’t really put it into words but I’ve kind of felt like a kite without a string.”

“Or a mule without a harness,” Wyatt said in a teasing tone.

She thumped his shoulder with her fist, but laughed. “That too. I’m not saying that I’ll be here every day, but when you need me I won’t let you down.”

Wendy nodded, then handed Michelle a pen. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I know you won’t. After you’re done signing I’ll show you around and introduce you to some people. If you have the time we can start training you right now.”

Six hours later Michelle was trying to devour a sloppy cheeseburger while sitting in Wyatt’s truck without getting anything on the seats. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance and she practically inhaled her French fries and some of Wyatt’s as well in addition to a huge chocolate shake that was almost gone. Wyatt had been right, as usual. She’d had a great time working with the other volunteers at Front Line and had easily fallen into the almost military like atmosphere of the place. Everyone knew what they were doing and while they’d joked around a lot, there had been an undertone of order and structure that she found oddly soothing.

T
hey were heading back to the beach house, and the closer they got, the more her nerves began to act up. Things had been so easy, so normal with Wyatt today and she didn’t want that feeling to end. Not that he was acting any differently, but she knew that once they were back in the beach house he had something planned for her. In a way she felt like this was the quiet before the storm and she couldn’t help wondering when the other proverbial shoe was going to drop.

T
hey pulled up to the beach house and she let out a soft sigh.

Wyatt looked over at her and she marveled
again at how handsome he was in the fading sunlight. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Am I still allowed to talk to you?”

He gave her a searching look, then nodded. “You are.”

She nodded, and ironically enough couldn’t think of something to say, so instead
, she got out of the truck. As soon as she reached the paving stones leading to the front of the house she slipped her shoes off. The warm air caressed her skin and she took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the grassy dunes and the endless expanse of the Gulf.

Wyatt came up behind her and took her hand in his. “Let’s go down to the beach.”

The nervous ball of energy in her stomach continued to knot up and she was practically shaking by the time they made it to the beach. Wyatt gave her an odd look, then sat in the sand and pulled her down so she was cradled between his thighs with her back against his chest. He rested his head on her shoulder and began to gently stroke her arms.

“I really like it here,” he murmured.

She watched the waves roll in, the white foam taking on hints of orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon. “Me too. How did you find this place?”

“My grandparents have a home about ten miles from here. I always liked the beach, something about the great expanse of the ocean, the endless motions of the tide help me remember my place in the world.”

“Is that why you brought me here? To remember my place?”

“Yes and no.” He sighed. “I wanted you to remember your place, but not in a bad way. I wanted you to see that…well
, that some of the things we think are so important, so world shattering, are nothing more than our personal demons.”

She frowned, trying to understand him. “Like your PTSD?”

“Like our PTSD.”

Overhead a seagull screamed and she tried to fight the immediate need to say she was fine, that nothing was wrong with her, that everything was okay, but it was fucking hard. No matter how much she wanted to confess to Wyatt about her nightmares, her self-doubt, everything she tried to hide from the world a small, panicked part of her mind insisted
he would leave her if he found out how screwed up she was. It was irrational, stupid, and totally idiotic to think that he didn’t know, but she just couldn’t acknowledge that she had PTSD, at least not to him.

Wyatt loosely gripped her wrists. “Still not ready to admit it, are you?”

A harsh shiver worked through her and she tried to get out the words she needed to say, tried to admit that she was fucked up, but her voice refused to work. Overwhelming fear that he would leave her tried to rob her of her sanity and she struggled to get out of his arms, but he threw his thighs over her legs and effectively pinned her.

“No, no running away from me, Michelle. Don’t you understand? I love you. Warts and all.”

She shook her head. “I’ll try harder, I…”

To her shock he bit the side of her neck hard enough to really hurt, startling a yelp out of her. “If you spew anymore of that bullshit I’ll take away your
privilege to speak again, am I clear? I don’t want to hear any of your fucking lies about how your life is nothing but sunshine and rainbows. You love me despite my fucked up mind, why do you find it so damn hard to believe that I can do the same? Do you really think I’m that fucking weak, that superficial? That my love for you isn’t as strong as your love for me?”

“I’m sorry.” She took in a ragged breath. “Please forgive me.
I won’t be a problem, I promise.”

He released her and stood abruptly, refusing to look at her as he stared down the coast. “I’m sorry you can’t believe that I love you.”

Her heart broke as he turned and stormed off towards the beach house, and panic filled her that he was leaving her again. She struggled to her feet and ran after him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and yanking him back hard enough that he stumbled and fell with her on top of him. She fisted his hair in her hands and the words tumbled out of her mouth, her fear of him not talking to her, of him ignoring her greater than her fear of showing him how fucked up she was.

“I do know you love me. No one has ever gone to so much trouble to help me. Owen…Owen would have been long gone by now. My parents would have shipped me off to a psych ward, and even Yuki is getting tired of my shit and she loves me more than anyone on earth, except you. Don’t you get it? I’m so damn unworthy of your love that I can’t understand why you would want me.”

He growled and flipped them over so she was on her back and he was pressing her into the soft sand. “Don’t you fucking get it? You aren’t unworthy, you’re amazing. Yeah you have issues, but we all have fucking issues. You’re still the strongest woman I know when you aren’t letting your personal demons fill your head full of lies. And your family, your friends love you more than you know. You. Are. Loved. Not because of how perfect you are, but because of how beautifully flawed, how wonderfully screwed up and yet amazing you are. I don’t want perfect, because perfect is a lie, I want you.”

“No you don’t, if you knew the real me you’d run
. I know you would.” She stood up and fisted her hands.

“What the fuck, Michelle? What the hell do I have to do to earn your love, your respect? I’m doing my fucking best and it never seems to be enough.”

“It’s not you, it’s me!”

“Bullshit! If I was good enough, strong enough you would have come to me instead of Petrov. You wouldn’t have fucking lied to me and strung me along like a fool, believing your bullshit. So don’t you fucking
dare
pretend that everything is okay with me, ever. Do you hear me, Michelle? Are my words getting through to you or are you still so wrapped up in your own bullshit that nothing I say is sinking in? I love you, but sometimes you’re so goddamned self-centered that it drives me fucking crazy.” He yelled the words so loud a flock of seagulls down the beach took flight and their startled shrieks filled the air. With a furious look in his eyes he took a step back, then another. “How the hell am I supposed to stop you from self-destructing next time the pressure gets too great and you need an outlet? How the fuck am I supposed to stand by and watch you hurt yourself over and over when you don’t need to? I’ll be your outlet, your protector, your submissive, your man, but I can’t be any of those things if you refuse to get past this need of yours to punish yourself in the most self-destructive manner possible because you think I’m too weak to handle you at your darkest.”

She reached out to him and placed her hand on his arm, trying to pull him closer.
“Wyatt, wait.”

To her shock he actually pushed her away from him
, hard enough that she almost fell on her ass. “Don’t fucking touch me right now, Michelle. I’m not in a good place. Just give me some goddamn space to cool down before I completely lose my shit.”

“Wyatt…”

He turned away and stormed off to the house, leaving her gaping at his back. A sick, deadening feeling filled her heart and she watched him take the steps two at a time up to the beach house before he went inside, slamming the door behind him. The food she’d eaten threatened to come back up, but she didn’t want him to look out the window and see her throwing up. He was right, she was so incredibly self-centered and selfish. From the moment Wyatt had reentered her life she’d only thought about herself and how Wyatt affected her, not how Wyatt was feeling. Even her guilt over hurting him was selfish.

She stared up at the beach house f
or a long time, her thoughts scattered and disjointed as she tried to make herself see the world from Wyatt’s point of view, to get into his head. She used to be so good at figuring out her submissives, easily slipping into their thoughts, but with Wyatt, she was having a hard time separating her own emotions from the equation. Guilt nearly paralyzed her and kept her stuck out on the beach, but she found the strength to walk towards the beach house, to put one foot in front of the other on the boardwalk, to face Wyatt and be there for him. This wasn’t just about her, this was about both of them, and it wasn’t fair to let Wyatt take on the entire burden of trying to fix her.

Cursing herself, she watched as the lights in the beach house came on and Wyatt’s shadow moved past the windows. Of course his PTSD hadn’t just gone away, no matter how much therapy he’d gotten while they were apart. The thought that her bullshit was triggering an episode was more than she could bear
. She vowed that next time she talked to her therapist she would really, truly try to figure out how to get past her need to self-destruct.

By the time she reached the door she’d managed to strap some steel to her spine, but when she heard Wyatt talking through the open windows she paused.

“Don’t worry, Daniella, I’ll see you soon enough when I get back to Chicago.” He laughed and she looked through the window, seeing him leaning against the counter with his back to her. “Yeah, we need to finish it.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt lightheaded as he paused and listened to what had to be the woman
Wyatt promised he hadn’t fucked talking to him on the phone. The thought that he ran from a fight with her to call Daniella killed her and she bit her hand to stifle a wounded moan, at once not wanting to hear another word and needing to know everything she could before Wyatt figured out she was standing here.

“Yep, I’ll take care of you and you take care of me.” He paused again and shifted against the counter. “No, she doesn’t know about us and I want to keep it that way. I’ll tell her, but not yet. She’s not ready.”

His betrayal hurt so damn bad. She was scarcely aware of moving before she’d thrown the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall. Wyatt leapt away from the counter and gave her a confused look and said into his phone, “Hey, I need to call you back.”

“Why, Wyatt? Why are you leaving me for her?” She tried to keep her tears back, but she just couldn’t. The pain was too great. “I’ve tried my hardest for you, what did I do wrong?”

“Oh, baby.” He grabbed her in a hug and she tried to pull away, but he wasn’t letting her go. “I’m not leaving you for Daniella. Why would you even think that?”

“I heard you. You’re going to Chicago to see her.”
Though it broke her heart, she had to force the words out. “I want you to be ha-happy, Wyatt. Please don’t stay with me out of guilt.”

“I should spank your ass into next week for even suggesting that.” He gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him.
“I am going to Chicago to see her, but not because I want her as my woman. Jesus, Michelle, have a little faith in yourself, in me. I’m trying real hard to be patient with you, but damn, you make it hard sometimes.”

He released her
abruptly and she slumped against the wall and looked at him through bleary eyes.

Shaking his head, he turned his back to her.
“This isn’t how I wanted to show you, but you need to know what I’ve been doing with Daniella. I’ve spent a lot of time with her in Chicago, her and her fiancé, but not in the way you think.”

He abruptly pulled his shirt off and her world froze in place as she stared at his back, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Taking a hesitant step forward, she blinked and wiped her eyes so she could see the new, giant tattoo that covered his back. Where the faded and battered rose and other random tattoos had once been there was now an enormous back piece of a very masculine angel done in shades of blue ranging from a navy so dark it was almost black to the palest of ice blues with his wings outspread, covering Wyatt’s muscular back from the top rise of his ass all the way to each shoulder blade. A halo done in shades of orange, red, and gold flared around the angel’s head, giving the tattoo life. She took a deep breath as she studied the incredible detail in each feather of the outspread wings. A portion of the tattoo near the bottom was still just black lines waiting to be colored in and she realized that finishing the tattoo was what Wyatt had been speaking with Daniella about. The angel’s eyes were the same tones as the halo and it was, by far, one of the most magnificent pieces of art she’d ever seen.

Her voice came out hushed as she said, “It’s beautiful.”

“I got it for you, Michelle. Whether you like it or not, I’m your guardian angel and I’m never going to leave you, never let you get hurt. I’ll battle all your demons and fight through Hell for you, if you’ll let me.”

She took another step closer, tracing her fingertips over the figure, feeling the warmth of Wyatt’s skin beneath the ink, the flex of his muscles as he looked over his shoulder at her.
When their eyes met the frustration and love she saw in his gaze swept away all her doubts, all her bullshit, leaving her with a remarkably clear head. She moved around to face him, drinking in his solid muscles, his magnificently broad shoulders, and the piercings in his nipples. With a feeling of almost reverence filling her she leaned forward and kissed each piercing, the first public marking he’d done to show that he belonged to her.

Then she looked up at him again, overwhelmed by how much she loved him and how much he loved her. “I’m not going to ask you to forgive me, because you’re right, that’s just bullshit at this point. Sometimes I feel like you know more about me than I know about myself and I’m constantly humbled
, not just by your strength, but by your ability to love me. No matter how poorly I think of myself, how undeserving I feel, you never lose faith in me. You’re always there for me, no matter how much I try to push you away, always guarding me, always protecting me, even if it’s from myself. So I’m not going to say I’m sorry, even though I am, but instead, I’m going to really try to be worthy of you.”