Bring Me Home (6 page)

His cock jumped, and he arched against her in a brutal thrust that took her last grip of release and matched it to his. Then he collapsed over her, the weight of his body delicious. She wanted to stay like this all day. Making love, kissing… Anything he wanted.

She'd thought of little else since their first encounter. The depth of emotion she'd experienced seeing him, touching him again was staggering. The sincerity in his words had bruised her heart. She'd replayed them long into the nights and her pillow had soaked up tears she'd thought long dried for Shawn Dalton.

The possibility that she'd made a mistake in leaving had scattered her mind in numerous directions. Last night, somewhere in the earliest hours, she'd fallen asleep with one question rolling around in her head. Did she believe him?

“Good morning, baby.”

She smiled, though she didn't feel it as waves of remorse crashed in to ruin the perfect morning. She'd promised herself she wouldn't let this happen again. Her mind refused to focus. So much remained unanswered from their past, and yet until she knew how she felt, she was powerless to react to him in any other way. For her sake, and his. “Morning.”

He braced a hand on either side of her head and dropped his forehead to hers. “I'm glad you came home.”

Miya pulled him close as panic swept through her mind. So was she. That scared her more than she could handle. “How does this keep happening?”

He tried to meet her gaze but she held him tight, tucking her face into his neck. His hands stroked her suddenly clammy skin. “Miya, look at me.”

“I can't.” Not with tears threatening to burst free. “Don't you get it? This keeps happening between us, and I don't want it to.”

He stiffened then. “Felt like you wanted it a moment ago.”

“That's not what I mean.”

She pushed away and sat on the edge of the bed. Awful didn't describe how she felt at the moment. With a long, angry look, he stood, straightening his clothes with stiff motions. “I guess you'll have to explain 'cause I can't seem to keep up with your moods.”

“My moods?” She climbed farther onto the bed and stared out the window. “They're not moods. I'm not a silly little girl. I
told
you I didn't want any emotion.”

“And I told you I couldn't play that way.”

She shook her head, knowing she should have heard him and believed it from the start. “That's why I tried to convince myself to stay away from you. But then you touch me and every intention I have disappears.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“I don't know.” She pulled her fingers through her hair, trying to reason it out in her head.

“Yes you do.” He sat down next to her. “I think it's as simple as you not wanting to believe you left for the wrong reason. That you made a mistake and you still, even after all this time, love me.”

The thought turned her stomach. If what he said was true, if she'd walked out, upset, stressed, completely devastated, and if she was honest—relieved, over nothing more than a misunderstanding, she'd killed their baby for no reason. The tears dropped freely now, and she met his gaze. She'd tried to stay away from him, but he kept pushing, kept asking, kept touching.

If there was one way to guarantee he'd leave her alone, the knowledge that her actions had caused them to lose their baby would do it.

“I was emotional at the time.” She took a steadying breath. “More so than I would have normally been. I may have handled things differently, if I hadn't been pregnant.”

Chapter Six

“What?” He jerked back, shock and pain etching his face in a dark scowl. He stood and walked to the window with stiff movements, resting his fists on the windowsill. “I really need you to explain, Miya.”

Taking a steadying breath, she rushed on. “I was pregnant when I came to you that night. I'd known for well over a week and hadn't figured out a way to tell you. When I decided to throw it out there and hope for the best for us, I found you and Susan.”

His fist hit the wall with brutal force. His back was to her, his shoulders trembling. He stood there, not moving for several moments before turning to face her. “Did you—” His voice cracked. “Did you have the child? Do I have a son or daughter out there somewhere?”

“No.” She shook her head, unable to meet his dark, pain-filled gaze. “I didn't know what I was going to do. I got on the bus and cried.”

Two long strides brought him to her bed and his hands closed over her arms, his grip almost painful as he shook her. “You killed our baby? How— How could you do that?”

She'd asked herself that a million times over. “I didn't mean for it to happen. The doctor said—”

“Shut up!” He drew away, his face a mask of revulsion. “I don't care what any doctor said. Nothing gave you the right to abort my child. I would have raised it myself.”

“I didn't abort, Shawn.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the memory of the painful miscarriage flooded back. “The doctor said the stress didn't cause it, but I know better. She was just trying to make me feel better. If I'd stayed and handled this all the right way, our baby would be here now.”

There. She'd finally said the words she'd never said.

He said nothing, and she rushed on. “You see. I hated you for doing this to me, and hated myself for our baby's death. I can't believe that even now, after all this time and all this hurt that I still respond to you the way I do. I asked you to stay away, no emotion, no expectations, because of this rancid guilt. I've hated you and myself for so long, I didn't know if I could feel anything else. All I knew was that when I was away, I could forget, at least for a while.”

Undefined emotion played in his green eyes, his gaze never leaving hers. When he would have come near, she held up a hand to stall him. “Please don't.”

For one second she thought he'd refuse. Then he stepped back, his eyes tortured. “I wish I'd known. Maybe I would have handled this differently from the start. I hate that you had to go through that alone and that you blamed yourself. I would have been there for you.”

Self-loathing rooted her to the bed. She couldn't move, could barely breathe. What did he think of her? Of the baby that might have been? It was all surreal, talking about a baby as an inanimate object that could have been dealt with in its time, in a different manner. “I didn't believe that then.”

“I think you did,” he pressed. “I think you panicked and saw a baby and what you saw with Susan as the reason you'd always needed to get out of Dead End.”

“No,” she breathed, hating that her deepest fears were so close to his statement.

He shook his head. “It doesn't matter now, anyway. I still love you. I never stopped. But you've got to let go of what happened and see what's still here. You didn't kill our baby. Fate took that out of our hands.”

“I can't.” Too many nights alone with her guilt had fused it to her heart.

He knelt before her and pushed her hair behind her ear. “You can. I see it when we make love. Everything else goes away. We can make that happen all the time, if you give us a chance. But I'm not going to push you. The hurt you've gone through is unimaginable, and part of that is my fault. Hell, probably all of it is. If I'd given more, showed you that I'd be there no matter what—”

“Don't.” God, she couldn't handle him taking this all on his shoulders right now. The sadness in his eyes and the dampness pooling there were crushing.

“I hope you change your mind and choose to stay,” he stated flatly. Brushing his fingers over her eyebrow, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He inhaled deeply before he continued. “But I'll understand if you don't.”

Then he walked away, and all she could do was let him go.

Miya looked through the dusty window to the ice cream shop. “This place hasn't changed at all.”

She turned to Chloe. Something was on her friend's mind. She'd been quiet all morning, which was as far from the norm as it could get. Miya had a funny feeling it had something to do with the details she'd given her friend about Shawn and his take on what had happened years ago.

Chloe stared down the small street. “You know. I always thought you were meant to be a city girl, like me.” Her eyes softened and she sighed. “But seeing you here, Mi. I think this is where you really belong.”

Miya shook her head, but Chloe held up a finger and started to pace.

“Yes, you do. Every time we came across a baby, you'd sigh. Now I know why. Your apartment is decorated almost the same as your mother's house. Again, now I understand. You hate the traffic and the smells in New York. Think about it. We have fun, going to the clubs, shopping. Starrrrrbucksssss,” she sighed. “But you don't belong there. You want a comfy little home with lots of kids and lemonade on the porch in the evening.”

Chloe's slight scowl revealed her disgust of the homey thought, and Miya laughed. “It's part of my past, Chlo.”

“No.” Chloe insisted. “It's who you are deep down. Your heart is here, girl, whether you want to admit it or not. Most of it's wrapped up in a big old package of sexy, Southern, drop-dead-gorgeous Shawn who'd bleed his heart dry to make you smile.”

Shawn. It had been eight days since she'd chewed him up and spit him out. She'd found any number of reasons to extend her visit and only admitted, in her most desperate moments, that staying had something to do with him. He'd walked away and she hadn't seen him since. But he hadn't left his wants, or his presence unknown. Each day, she'd received a fresh bouquet of wildflowers with a card that simply said
Come home
.

Until today.

She didn't know what that meant. She only knew it scared her. “I don't know, Chlo.”

“Oh, please.” Chloe waved away the comment. “You know as well as I do that he never even considered cheating on you. I met your cousin Susan at the wedding. She's a piece of nature's work not worth seeing. It wouldn't surprise me to find out she had her hands in at least ten pairs of pants that day. She likes to brew trouble. I saw it all day at the reception. I know Shawn told you the truth, and now he's hurting as much as you did when that baby died.”

Hearing Chloe say it—made it sound worse. All this time and pain for nothing. A chaotic chain of events that had spiraled out of control. There had to be so much more to it than that. Didn't there? Their past might be resolved, the pain of their loss might lessen, but she had a life now. Far away from Dead End, Texas. “I have friends in New York.”

“That suck most of the time.” Chloe scowled. “Besides me, of course.”

“And an apartment.”

“It'll be snatched up the moment you leave.”

“And a job,” Miya countered.

“You'll have to come up with a better argument than that.”

Miya leaned back against the window. “I don't know if I want to come home.”

Chloe looped her arm through Miya's and walked her into the ice cream shop. After ordering two large chocolate on chocolate—with chocolate sprinkles—sundaes, they sat at a table near the window. “You want to be here and he wants you here.”

A tiny thrill raced through Miya at the thought. “You make it sound so simple. But I don't know what to think right now.”

“Well, I do. Think about this.” She took a scoop of ice cream and popped it in her mouth. Talking around the food, she continued, “Have you had any relationships that lasted?”

“No.” Miya glanced at her sundae. “Neither have you.”

“That's cuz I don't want to. For you, it's because no one else can compare when you're already in love with someone.” She scooped another large spoonful of chocolate syrup and smiled. “Here goes the diet.”

“You don't need to diet.”

Chloe shrugged then tipped her head to the side a bit, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe I do. Seems I'm losing my touch.”

Miya sat back in her seat. It was hard to concentrate on what her friend was saying when thoughts of Shawn kept invading her mind. Their last morning in her room kept playing over and over like a recurring dream. His explanation, his acceptance. His kiss and the way he'd controlled her body, giving her exquisite pleasure until she…

Wait— What? She looked at her friend. “What do you mean,
‘losing your touch'
?”

“I was turned down cold the other morning.”

She was certain she didn't want to know, and yet she asked anyway, praying Chloe hadn't hit on her father. “By who?”

“
Whom
is the correct way to ask, but—” Chloe laughed and spun her spoon around on the ice cream, creating a tall peak. “Your delicious cowboy, of course. And I was even in my lingerie.”

He'd turned Chloe down. Not a huge surprise considering Shawn was just one of those good-to-the-bone-marrow kind of guys. She'd forgotten, or pushed it away to make walking away easier. It felt good to know even the mighty, man-eating Chloe Garrison couldn't tempt him into bed. The tiny thrill turned into full-blown euphoria. “What did he say exactly?”

Chloe's smile could have lit up the town. “You see! You're dying to know. But I'm not going to tell you.” She reached across the table and squeezed Miya's hand. “You need to go talk to him.”

Nothing like a little city-life badassness to shed light on her countrified fuck-up. “Yeah, I guess I really do.”

“That's enough of that.” With a nod, Chloe pushed her dish away. “Now. Does this little town of yours have a naughty nightie shop? We need to get you something sexy.”

Miya was confused, but she stood and followed her whirlwind friend to the door. “Why?”

Chloe laughed and looped her arm through hers again as they set off down the street. “Well, with the way you booted Shawn out the other morning, I'd say you owe him a bit of an apology. And that, my simple friend, is where the fuck-me-senseless-then-give-my-silly-ass-another-chance lace or leather come in.”

Miya slipped the receipt for her new negligee into the bag. Her fingers brushed the silky blue fabric, and she smiled. There was something about the outfit. It screamed
forgive me
, and even though it had cost a bit more than she'd expected, she had a feeling it would be worth every penny.

She stepped out of the shop into the mall's huge main hall. They'd had to drive an hour and a half into what Chloe had categorized as civilization, but the trip had been worth it.

The drive had given Miya time to think, plan and tweak her strategy. She had a lot of making up to do, and Shawn was just now dealing with pain she'd had years to process.

Chloe had gone on to another store and Miya had no idea where she might have wandered. A massive fountain that served as the center point of the tri-level shopping center offered a quiet respite from the busy building and she took a corner bench. Trailing her fingers through the clear water, she focused on her plan for the rest of the day.

It would take a little over two hours to get back to her parents' house. If she timed it right, she could grab a quick shower and drive out to Shawn's before it became too dark. Not that she was worried about getting lost. She knew the route to his house by heart. Problem was, the roads outside of town were rutted after the rainy season. The potholes and washouts were big enough to swallow a small car. She didn't want to take the chance that anything might mess up the evening.

She had to make things right. Everything Shawn had told her made sense. She'd been a fool. Not as much for reacting to what she'd seen and heard, but for running away before she'd heard him out or given him a chance to explain. She'd been young and impulsive, scared out of her mind with the thought of becoming a mother well before she'd planned. Scared of losing herself to a small town and the life it offered, she'd given up everything over an anger she couldn't even find inside herself anymore. It might not have made a difference then, but at least she would have known his side of the story. He'd deserved that much.

Now, she knew she'd done him wrong. Letting him make love to her, even encouraging him while she held back. He'd admitted his feelings—and she'd been a real bitch. She hoped it wasn't too late to say she was sorry. To tell him she wanted him, and that she still loved him, even after all this time.

Frustrated, she glanced around. She'd never get the chance to speak with Shawn if Chloe didn't hurry up. She reached into her purse for her cell phone when a loud squeal of delight sounded close by. “Miya? Miya Jackson, is that really you?”

Miya looked up as Penelope Ashland strolled over. Susan's younger sister by five years, Penelope was everything that Susan no longer was. Her tall, slim body moved with the grace of a dancer as she crossed the floor and enveloped Miya in a huge hug. “Hi, Penelope.”

“Hi, Penelope? That's it?” She stamped her stiletto heel and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “My God, I missed you! How have you been? Susan said you came home for Casey's wedding. I couldn't make it because I was in Paris for a photo shoot, but Casey received my gift, I hope.”

There had always been such a relaxed aura about Penelope that Miya found it difficult to process this new, diva-ish side of her younger cousin. “Penelope, you look amazing. And yes, Casey loved the crystal champagne glasses. They toasted with them, you know.”