Pulled Within (16 page)

But the room was only a cloud-filled backdrop.

What held my attention like a searing sun—what I couldn’t drag
my eyes away from even if I’d tried—was Hart. He was sitting up, leaning against his headboard, with the sheets resting across his waist. He had no tattoos or visible scars. He was perfect, with the build of an athlete, muscles so defined I could rest my finger in the valleys between his abs. My vision traced the trail of hair that started
at his belly button and disappeared beneath the sheet. From the way it rested over his lower half, it didn’t look like he was wearing anything underneath.

It wasn’t as if I’d forgotten how beautiful the shape of him was, but the image of him wasn’t as crisp in my mind as my feelings for him. After this stunning reminder, I couldn’t believe any of those details had ever left me.

My pain made me forget as many things as it made me remember.

His eyes gleamed. “Do you want to get in?”

My skin was already flushed from seeing his body lounging in
bed. His invitation only made it worse. My eyes slowly drifted up his chest, past his neck, stopping when they reached his stare. I
did
want to get in. I wanted to do more than that, really. But it was still a huge step to take, and it was too late to cancel the plans I’d made
with my mom. “Actually, I was hoping you could give me a ride to my car.”

He lifted his arm, his bicep flexing as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. “You’re going somewhere? Before I’ve gotten a
chance to touch you?” It looked like he was trying to flatten his bed head. He didn’t need to. His messiness was as sexy as his voice.

“I have to.” He already knew I didn’t have to go to work until later today. Before I could explain further, I noticed his eyes were no
longer watching mine. They had wandered to my braless chest. My nipples
were so hard, they poked through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. I
zipped up the hoodie I wore over it.

“Why cover them?” he asked. “I’ve already seen them. I
dreamed about them last night.”

I chose not to respond to that. “I’m meeting my mom for coffee.”

His eyes lit up. ”Maybe I could join you before I head to the work site…” He paused, waiting for more of a reaction or waiting
for me to
change my plans. I was too frozen to do either. It was only a matter of time before he started asking about my family. I wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as I could. “Or maybe that’s not a good
idea,”
he said finally. “I’ll take you to your car, then. But only if you
promise to come back tonight.”

My back pressed against the doorframe, and my hands reached
behind me and squeezed the wood. The longer his naked body
teased me, the harder it was to restrain myself. “I won’t get off until
—
”

“Won’t ‘get off’?” he said, laughing his throaty, thunderous
laugh. “Just because you didn’t want to sleep in my bed last night doesn’t mean I don’t want to wake up to you tomorrow morning.”

The way he wanted me—the way he was pursuing me—was enticing. It wasn’t just our prior sexual chemistry that drew me
closer. His hands were already inspiring feelings stronger than any orgasm his fingers could ever produce. Hands like Hart’s should brush toast crumbs from my lips every morning and tuck my hair behind my ear before I left for work. Hands like his should provide comfort and safety.

If I could only get to a place where I could tolerate that kind of touch again.

“I’ll text you before I leave Bangor,” I confirmed.

He reached for the edge of the sheet and pushed himself off the
headboard. “Then I guess I’d better get dressed.” One of his legs
stretched
out from beneath the covering, and his foot landed on the floor. “Unless you want to watch me do that, you’ll want to close that door. You’re about to get an eyeful…we’ll see if you won’t ‘get off’
then.” He winked.

It was so fucking tempting.

I hesitated, but finally stepped out of the room and shut the door behind me. Then I went into the kitchen to wait for him.

***

My mom was sitting at a table by the front window when I came into the coffee shop. I took a seat, and she pushed a paper to-go cup toward me. “Your outfit is so cute, Rae.” I couldn’t tell if her tone
was sarcastic or sincere.

I glanced down, forgetting that I was still wearing Hart’s clothes. I was already late when he dropped me at my car; I didn’t have time to go into Caleb’s house and put on something else. It also meant I still wasn’t wearing a bra…not that my chest was big enough for it to matter. Still, I felt a little half-finished.

“I was in kind of a hurry,” I said. I didn’t see her too often, and
because of this, I always noticed immediately if something about her had changed. Today it was her hair. Her long locks, the same shade of blonde as mine, had been chopped to her chin, and she’d added darker lowlights. It drew out her eyes.

“You look good,” she told me. I saw her eyeing my thinness, the slight hollowing of my face that pulled my scar inward.

“I like your hair,” I replied, trying to keep things balanced
between us as I pulled the coffee closer.

She ran her fingers through the front of it, twirling the strands when she reached the ends. “Thanks…I think I like it. Not quite sure
yet.” She sounded so defeated still, so lost. I wondered if this was
how I
sounded to other people, too. “Irving tells me you stopped by
looking for a job. What happened?”

I shrugged. “Things didn’t work out with Saint. I needed hours.”

“No, I mean, why is it that I had to hear it from your uncle and not you?”

The interrogation had begun. Whether or not she meant it that way, it was how I took it. “Saint and I broke up. He found someone else, and I’m not working for him anymore. End of story.” Her eyes told me she didn’t believe it was that simple. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I didn’t tell you.”

I never told her much about what was going on in my life. I
didn’t know why she would be surprised that I hadn’t called her about this. We hadn’t had that kind of relationship in a long time.

“Oh…okay.”

“You don’t believe me.”

Her brows rose. “I didn’t say that, Rae.”

I stared as hard and as directly as I could into her dark chocolate
irises. We both knew the implications of truth-telling in our lives. “Believe whatever you want.”

“So you’ve moved on, then?” Her eyes dropped to my outfit.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that was building.
“Why don’t we just talk about why we’re here.” I took a sip of the coffee…
it was black. No flavored creamer. No added sweetness. She didn’t even know how I took my damn coffee.

Considering that I’d moved out of her house when I was sixteen, it would’ve been ridiculous for me to think she knew anything about me anymore.

“I’ve missed my daughter. That’s all.”

That’s all? When it came to us, there was no such thing. There was always something more lingering below the surface.

“You only ever seem to miss me around the month leading up to Darren’s birthday,” I told her.

“I miss you all the time, Rae,” she sighed. “But you know how difficult it gets around this time of the year.” She reached across the table, her fingers circling my wrist. Her thumb and middle finger overlapped each other. “Looks like you’ve been feeling it, too.”

She was measuring me.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out of her grasp. “Don’t pretend you know how I feel.”

“Rae, I don’t—”

“And don’t pretend you know my pain, either. You have no idea
what I’ve gone through, or what I continue to go through every
day.”

Her gaze turned steely. “I know more than you give me credit for.”

Even after all this time, we still hadn’t dealt with our emotions
concerning everything that had gone down—especially not about
the events that had led up to the night I’d gotten my scar. It never took long before one of us got to this point, and it was almost always me. We allowed our emotions to build, even though they never spilled. Tears threatened to drizzle, but they never approached a downpour, or even came close. There wouldn’t be one today, either. I needed to get out of there before I really lost my cool.

I lifted the coffee off the table and pushed my chair back.
“Listen, it was nice to see you. You look good. I’ve got to go now.”

“Wait, Rae.” I halted while she gathered her nerve. “Will you at
least think about coming over for your brother’s birthday? It would
be nice if we were together on that day.” She didn’t look at me. She
watched her cup instead, wrapping her fingers around the lid, her chest rising and falling much faster than it needed to.

“There’s nothing to think about. The answer is no.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You know Gerald
—
”

“I’m not talking about him.”

“But he’s
—
”

“I’m. Not. Talking. About. Him.”

I used to hate her for everything that had happened. I realized then that my hatred had turned into pity. She couldn't seem to move forward. Then again, neither could I.

Maybe I pitied us both.

With everything that was already going through my head,
Gerald was the last thing I wanted to think about. I stood and moved to her
side, glaring down at the top of her bob. “Bye, Mom.” I didn’t give
her a chance to respond.

I dropped the coffee in the trash can by the door and headed out
onto the sidewalk. She’d chosen to meet at the only café on Main Street. It was the start of everyone’s workday; there was a line all the way to the end of the block. I kept my eyes on the ground, held the
collar of the
sweatshirt just under my chin and began to walk. I didn’t want
anyone
to recognize me. I wasn’t exactly dressed for meeting people. I had no makeup on, and the cold air would only intensify the colors in my scar.

After only a few steps, I realized avoiding contact would be impossible.

A golden-haired dog had come rushing out of line, greeting me with squinty eyes and a wagging tail. Her tongue licked the tips of my fingers.

Bella
.

As much as I couldn’t stand Drew, I adored her yellow Lab. She was too cute to ignore, and she made it nearly impossible, swishing all around my legs as I tried to take a step. “Hi, girl,” I said,
scratching behind her ears while she reached up to kiss me.

“Keep walking, Rae.”

I froze when I heard Saint’s voice. The last time I had seen him was when he’d fired me. Had it been Drew in line to get coffee, she probably wouldn’t have said anything to me at all. She was too polite to call me out, too reserved to cause a scene. But Saint wasn’t
afraid of anyone, especially me. I wondered why I hadn’t felt his stare. I usually knew
when he was nearby; as strange as it was, my chest would start to
tingle in his presence.

That hadn’t happened this time.

“I’m just petting her,” I said. I finally looked up and found him on the sidewalk, his arm around Drew’s waist. She held Bella’s leash. His black jeans, black button-down shirt and loosely-laced black
boots only
emphasized his seductiveness. The hints of pain I still saw in his honey-colored eyes added to it as well. But none of it triggered anything within me anymore. I remembered our connection; I just
didn’t miss it.

I was curious if Drew ever noticed the scars I had left on his
body.
The ones on his shoulders, places where my nails had dragged
across
his flesh. I hadn’t done it to hurt him; he’d
begged
me to make him
bleed, to open his skin and release the demons that gnawed at him. So while he was ravaging me and giving me my release, my fingers were giving him his.

Those moments were long gone.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he said, “and that
includes keeping them away from my girl.”

I didn’t know which girl he was referring to. I lifted my fingers off Bella and shoved them in the pockets of Hart’s sweatshirt.
“Wasn’t planning on touching her again.”

Even when I’d made him bleed, I never felt any relief come from
him. He’d been so wounded, and because I was so focused on
mending
him, I didn’t respond to what he had really been asking for. He’d wanted to see my scars—the ones that existed underneath my skin rather than on its surface. I couldn’t show him. I hadn’t even tried.
Our relationship wasn’t about my scars. It was about caring for him in a
way I hadn’t been able to care for others in my life when they’d
really needed me to.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Now he just hated me. He couldn’t have made it more obvious,
inspecting me with such contempt, like I was a wad of gum stuck on
the
bottom of his boot. I wished we could be friends
—
that I’d been a
little more composed when he’d finally ended things and kicked me out. That I hadn’t lashed out at Drew like I did.

“If you do it again, Rae, we’re going to have problems,” he told
me. “I don’t even want you talking to her. Got it?”

My eyes finally moved to Drew. I envied her ability to care for him, since she was obviously better at it than me. But Saint’s
warnings
weren’t a joke, and really I had no reason to touch her again. From
what Brady had told me, she’d been through a lot of shit, too. That alone made me regret hitting her. But I also regretted it because whatever I’d felt for Saint wasn’t there anymore. My urge to heal him was gone. I’d wasted my energy being violent over something that ended up being insignificant.