Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (33 page)

“I won’t change my mind.” I glance away to look at my computer, hoping she’ll accept my dismissal of her.

As she leaves my office, she turns briefly and mouths, “That’s what they all say.”

Within minutes, I get a call from a veteran teacher, informing me that the class for emotionally disturbed students is in need of assistance. Using my size as leverage, I can usually get those kids back in line pretty quickly. As I make my way to the room, I feel my phone buzz with a text from Remy. I can’t answer it because the student in question has a pair of scissors to her own throat, screaming manically that she’s going to kill herself.

Half an hour later, order is restored when the school psychologists, social worker and nurse have convinced the young girl to turn over the weapon before anyone gets hurt. Crisis calls like this one have become routine in nature for this particular student. She’s a child who’s been bounced around in the state’s foster care system with no knowledge of where her parents are.

Football practice runs later than usual to get ready for the next big game. For many of these kids, sports will be their ticket to a better life. The military was mine.

When I arrive at home later that night, I am exhausted. With less than three hours of sleep the night before and a hectic day at work, I just want to hold Remy and lose myself in her, but she’s fast asleep.

I watch her carefully. I watch her dream as a small smile graces her face. I watch her eyes slowly flutter open when I lie beside her, our faces inches apart.

“Hi,” she utters quietly. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

I raise my hand, run my fingers through her short hair and tuck a longer piece behind her ear. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should’ve called you or at least texted you to let you know where I was.”

She looks down and tightens her lips. I know she agrees with me.

“My sister called when I was getting ready for work with some really bad news. I called Marty and told him that I had a family emergency.”

The widening of Remy’s eyes matches the panic on her face. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath and exhale. “She has breast cancer.”

“Oh my God! Shane, I’m sorry!”

“She thinks they caught it early this time.”

“What do you mean ‘this time’?”

“She was diagnosed seven years ago.”

Remy crawls and molds her body against mine. “That’s awful. What is she going to do?”

“Chemo and radiation as long as it hasn’t spread anywhere else in her body.”

“I wish you would’ve told me. I would’ve gone with you.” She caresses my cheek softly.

“I didn’t think about anything except getting home.”

“What did your mom say?”

I shrug my shoulders and offer no response.

“Is your sister going to get somebody to help her with the kids?”

“She’s got some good friends back home.”

“That’s good. Friends are important.”

With a heavy heart, I look into her eyes and know that I need to tell her the rest of the story. “You’re right. Friends are important.” I look away from her green eyes, laced with concern for me. “I saw Mia yesterday.” I confess.

“Mia? Your ex-girlfriend?”

I nod. “I was driving past her house so I stopped in to see her.”

I feel tension roll off her body as she asks, “Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re friends…and I needed someone to talk to.” I offer, hoping to ease her mind. I know what she’s thinking. She knows how I felt about Mia.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Say you forgive me.”

“Why would I have to forgive you? What did you do?”

“Nothing! But I should have taken your calls and answered your texts. I’m sorry.”

“Shane, you…you have a family emergency and seek comfort in the arms of your ex-girlfriend.” Remy pulls her legs in tightly and she wraps her arms around her body as if she’s protecting herself.

“Baby, it wasn’t like that. Besides, Adam was there.” That’s not entirely true because he arrived as I was leaving.

“Who’s Adam?”

“Her boyfriend. The guy she’s having a baby with.” Saying the words out loud hits me like a ton of bricks. My voice is thick with derision.

“You still love her, don’t you? I can see it clear as day on your face.”

I contemplate her words before I open my mouth. Slowly, I shake my head as I move closer to her. “No. I don’t love her.”

I’m met with resistance when I try to place my lips on hers.

“I don’t love Mia. Do you know how I know?”

She hums with a questioning tone.

“Because I love
you
.”

I cup her face and repeat the words. “I
love
you.”

With her rapidly blinking eyes, I can almost see the comprehension become clear. I’ve told her. She now knows exactly how I feel.

“Shane,” she whispers, dropping her gaze to my chest.

“Remy, listen to me and listen well. You need to know this.” I lower my face to meet her at eye level. “I love you.” I wait with anticipation for her reaction. I hold back the words from spilling forth about how much I needed her by my side yesterday, about how much I wanted her hands to be the ones that rubbed circles on my back, and about how much I wanted her to be the one to console me as tears slipped down my face.

She gasps.

“You don’t have to say anything back. I just need you to know how I feel. I’m sorry if that scares you, but it’s true. I don’t know how or when, but…I’ve fallen in love with you. Desperately and madly. It’s crazy, but it’s true.”

“No other man has ever said those words to me…except Simon and David.”

I bite back the angry words I want to hurl.
Why would
Simon and David love her?
I am left utterly and completely speechless as a million questions race around in my head. Remy said she’s had no romantic links with Simon and, as far as I know, David is her advisor. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Shane, it’s not like that with them.” She answers my silent question.

Her eyes, green and pure, look at me with such longing. So instead of with words, I lower my mouth to kiss her and use my body to show her just how much she means to me.I declare my love for her because no man will love her as I much as I do.

I make love to her, slowly, needing her to feel my body and my heart until sweat drips down my chest and I grunt my impending release.

“Oh.My.God,” Remy’s fingers claw at my back when I plunge deeper into her, sending us both to the point of no return. I love the way my name falls from her lips before she opens her eyes and smiles at me. “My God! That is incredible.” She places tiny kisses on that tattoo on my bicep. I swallow hard when I notice the look in her eyes. Circles of green reveal so much. Longing, fear, confusion and something that resembles disappointment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

A sad grin tugs at her lips. “You said you love me.”

“I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” She looks away from me.

“Why would you say that?”

She offers only a quick shrug of her shoulders.

“I love everything about you. I don’t know how or when I fell in love with you, but I did. I
think
about you constantly. I want to
be
with you constantly. I’m like a lovesick puppy.” I feel my eyes crinkle with humor.

“I get it if you think it’s too soon, but I’ve learned not to live my life based on a timeline.”
I know life can be over in an instant.
I lower my mouth to hers. “I’m completely serious about what I said. I love you. There isn’t one thing about you that I don’t love.”

Her tongue darts out and she licks her lips, preparing to speak. “Shane, I want to believe you, but...”

“You don’t believe me?” Her words of doubt

hit hard.

“I found something that I need to ask you about.” She taps my shoulder and proceeds to slide out from under me as she unzips the pocket of her backpack and retrieves a small plastic bag.

“What’s this?” She hands me the clear bag.

I inspect the small round pill as adrenaline courses through my body.
Tell her. Tell her the truth. Tell her right now.
I clear my throat quickly before a bold-faced lie erupts. “It’s for headaches. My doctor prescribed it.”

“How often do you get them?”

“What?”

“Headaches. How often do you get them?”

“Not often.” Judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t believe me.

“Are they withdrawl headaches?”

Her question catches me off guard and my defense goes up.

My eyes narrow at her accusation. My heart is beating frantically as her question hits too close to home.

“What exactly are you asking me, Remy?”

After staring at me or studying me for a few long minutes, the woman I love squares her shoulders and asks if I’m a drug addict.

A drug addict? What the fuck?
“No, I’m not a goddamn drug addict!”

I’m offended and honestly pissed off. “Why would you think that?” I rise to my feet and stand before her.

The difference in our heights is clearly pronounced now.

“I’ve been watching you. You have a temper, your hands tremble and you exhibit symptoms of an addict especially when you pop one of the pills you keep in your phone case. Is that how you get your fix?”

“I’m not an addict.” I close the distance between us and tower over her, looking down at her.

“So you’re a recreational drug user?”

“I don’t fucking do drugs.” My tone is clipped and serious.

She doesn’t believe me based on the rolling of her eyes.

“Who do you think I am? Do you even know me at all?”

“I’ve lived with a drug-addicted mother my whole life. I won’t live with another one.”

“I’m not a fucking drug addict!” I bellow, angry at her accusation of what she thinks I am. I clench my teeth at being mislabeled again.

She winces, turns away abruptly, bracing herself for a hard blow. My eyes widen as my heart splinters; she thinks I am going to strike her.

“Remy.” I reach up and cup her face. “Baby, I would never hurt you. You’ve got to believe me.”

“Shit,” she mumbles, stepping away from me. I reach out and grab her hand, spinning her around and forcing her to sit on the bed. I kneel before her. My eyes roam greedily over her naked body until they travel upward to her face. The beautiful face that has been hit countless times. The beautiful face of the woman I love who will
never
be touched again by another hand.

Without saying another word, I draw her in with longing eyes as I silently confess how deeply the love I have for her runs. I am consumed. My heart has been hijacked. She’s everything I want and more.

“Remy, I may be many things, but I am
not
a drug addict. I promise you.”

Her fingers run through my hair, coaxing me to lay my head on her bare legs and so I do. I wrap my arms around her body, close my eyes and surrender to her. The feel of her lips on the back of my head offer comfort, but it’s the accompanied words that spread a sense of peace throughout me.

“I. Love. You.”

My eyes snap open and I move to lift my head, but she holds me in place. I need to see her eyes; they are the gateway, the window to her soul.

Her emerald eyes fill with unshed tears. “Shane, I’ve never said those words to anyone. Not like this. Not with the love I feel for you.” She wipes away the tears that finally succumb and fall. “I’m giving you my heart. I’m giving it to you with all my trust. Please,” she chokes back a sob, “please don’t break it.”

I rise to my knees and wrap my arms around her small frame. “On my life, you have my word.”

My heart is overflowing with emotions. To love someone this much is a blessing and a curse. To hold her heart in my hand knowing I have the power to make it whole or crush it entirely is a heavy burden. But I love this woman and I will protect her even if it’s the last thing I ever do.

“Come with me.”

After guiding her into the bathroom, I turn on the faucet, letting the tub fill with hot water while I stand there with her in front of the mirror.

One by one, I name the things I love about her.

“I love this face.” I kiss her cheek softly.

“I love this mind.” I place a kiss on her temple.

“I love this body.” Finally, I kiss her shoulder, meeting her hard stare in the mirror.

I turn her to face me. “You have me. I am yours. I’m not a perfect man, but I will love you with a perfect love. Unconditional. Forgiving. Kind. Whole. All I ask is that you love me the same way.”

Remy tilts her head as a small smile stretches across her face and the tears fall silently. “I will. Thank you.”

She pulls me by the hand as we climb into the tub. She lies back on my chest. My long legs drape over the side of the porcelain to allow room for hers. The feel of her warm body against mine causes my dick to stir and grow hard.

“Hey!” she laughs.

“Sorry. I can’t help it. I’m stupidly attracted to you.” I reach around and fondle her nipple and smile when it tightens at my touch. “See. You can’t help it either.”

I grab the shampoo and lather her hair, pulling the short strands back away from her face. A hint of red peeks through at the roots. “Has your hair always been this short?” I ask, thinking that most women I’ve known prefer their hair long.

“No,” she says after shaking her head. “It used to be really long.”

“Why’d you cut it?”

A sad sigh escapes through her lips. “I didn’t have a choice.”

I sit up stiff as a board, my spine tingling with shock. “Somebody
forced
you to cut your hair?” We live in the goddamn United States of America not some fucking third world middle-eastern country where women are counted amongst cows and goats. I refrain from clenching my hands into fists. I begin the slow exercise of controlling my anger by taking deep, slow breaths and blowing them up into the air.

“No…not like that. It’s just easier to have short hair. It’s a lot easier to work with anyway.”

Her quick dismissal of the conversation sparks interest and curiosity. “If you had a choice, would you let it grow long again?”

“Yeah, someday I will.” She cranes her neck to kiss my chin. “Someday.”