Authors: Lacey Alexander
And when a few seconds passed and he said nothing more, she realized that was all
the more reason to walk away. So as much as it hurt her to do so, that was what she
did.
And he didn’t stop her this time.
Chapter 17
A
pril felt like an idiot as she drove to her grandmother’s place the next day. Because
she couldn’t stop crying. When on earth had she gotten so serious about Rogan Wolfe
that she cried over him?
But wasn’t it always serious in a way? From the word
go
? From that first kiss? Just because you don’t have much in common with someone doesn’t
mean you can’t have real feelings for them.
The stark realization that she actually loved him—was
in love
with him—had hit her hard last night, and of course, at the worst possible time.
And it had been so very shocking to her. Because she’d always thought she understood
her own emotions better than that.
But didn’t Rogan teach you, from the very beginning, that you clearly don’t know yourself
as well as you thought?
The sobering notion produced a long, heavy sigh as she parked the car, then dabbed
at her eyes with a tissue. Apparently she’d given up far more of her control to Rogan
than she’d even understood at the time.
But loving the big clod doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love you back. And clearly he
doesn’t, or things would have ended differently last night. And a guy like him probably
isn’t even really
capable
of love.
Not that that made her feel any less heartbroken.
Oh God. Of all the men in Miami, you had to fall for that one?
But it was too late to cry over spilled milk, so she had to just go on and be the
mature,
back
-in-control woman she was. And right now she was due to spend some time with Gram—then
later she’d take her to the grocery store and maybe she’d make dinner for them both
before heading home. As much as she often felt put-upon by her family, right now going
to Gram’s felt . . . comforting, so she was more than happy to devote her Sunday to
her grandmother.
She hadn’t been there for long when Gram noticed she wasn’t acting like herself. April
was busy buzzing around the apartment, straightening things, watering plants, when
Gram said, “Why don’t you slow down for a minute and tell me what’s wrong, darlin’?”
April didn’t particularly want to talk about this, but once Gram realized something
was wrong, there wasn’t usually any getting out of it without telling her the whole
story. So April set down the small watering can she carried and came to sit with Gram
in front of the TV. Gram put the television on mute.
“You remember when you told me I needed a man?” April asked.
Gram nodded. “Sure do.”
“Well, I got one,” she explained. “For a while. It was . . . brief but intense. I
fell in love with him, but it’s over now.”
Gram looked understandably surprised. “Amber told me you had a date a couple of weeks
ago, but I didn’t realize it was something serious. So why the breakup? Something
he did?”
“More like something he didn’t do, won’t do,” April explained, her heart hurting all
the more for having to think through this again. “He just won’t open up to me about
things the way I’ve opened up to him.”
And now Gram looked even more surprised. “April, don’t take this the wrong way, but
he’s a man. And a lot of men just aren’t good at that part of things. It’s a fact
of life, darlin’.”
April knew that. And she couldn’t explain to Gram the reason it mattered to her so
much in this particular relationship—she could hardly share the many ways she’d bared
her body and soul to him. So she simply said, “I just don’t think I can be happy if
things feel one-sided, and to me, they do. And if he cared enough, he’d have found
a way not to let me walk out of his life, don’t you think?”
“I appreciate that you know what you want and know what you’re worth. I like to think
I had a little something to do with that. But, well, just be sure you’re not throwing
away something good too fast.”
April drew in her breath. Was she being unreasonable? She only knew how her heart
felt, like she’d opened and opened and opened, in so many ways, and he still couldn’t
tell her a little something about his family? It made no sense to her. And whatever
his reasons, she thought he was selfish. “The way I see it, he’s the one who threw
it away. And the truth is, I have no idea if he cares for me at all—for all I know,
it’s entirely one-sided in that way, too. So I have to walk away—I have to.”
Gram reached out to pat her hand where it rested on the arm of an easy chair. “Well,
I know it hurts, but if it’s not meant to be, then it won’t, and the pain’ll pass.
Believe it or not, things generally work out like they’re supposed to. Everything
happens for a reason.”
Gram had always said that about the trials and tribulations in life. Oddly, in fact,
Rogan had even said something similar recently. And April usually tried to believe
that. But it was harder with bigger things. And now she asked Gram something she never
had before—because it was too difficult a question. “Even the crash? Mom and Dad dying?
That was meant to be?”
“Even that,” Gram said without missing a beat. “We’re not always meant to understand
why—but things go as they should, and you grow from them. And you’re growing from
this now, too, even if it hurts.”
April sighed. Growth—who needed it? And maybe someday she’d look back and understand
that better, but at the moment she wondered, “Isn’t anything ever supposed to just
go right and be easy?”
At this, Gram let out a hardy laugh. “Sometimes. The rest you just have to take on
faith.”
“Just so you know, it always throws me when you get all philosophical,” April told
her. It wasn’t Gram’s usual way.
But her grandmother just laughed again. “I don’t dish out the deep stuff often, but
you seemed like you need it today. Now let’s watch TV. I think there’s a good, tragic
movie on Lifetime that’ll make you feel better about your own troubles. And it has
a good looking guy in it, too.”
And now it was April who let out a light laugh. Gram’s moment of depth had indeed
passed. But as they tuned in to the movie, she found herself thinking about Rogan,
and realizing that, like it or not, as much as it hurt, she
did
have to believe it all happened for a reason—even this, even Rogan. Otherwise, what
was there to hang on to?
Already, she missed him like crazy. Mainly she missed the giddy sense of passion and
fun and excitement he brought to her. And she missed knowing that she’d see him again
soon. She missed the idea that there was more to come, that their relationship was
expanding and growing. She missed looking into his eyes and knowing he understood
her better in ways than she understood herself. She missed the things that passed
between them silently, without need of words.
They’d really just gotten started, just really discovered each other. And it broke
her heart to know there wouldn’t be more of everything good they’d shared.
But the truth was, even now that it was over, Rogan had given her so much.
And nothing could take that away.
And she would have to, somehow, try to make peace with that, try to make herself believe
it was enough.
* * *
R
ogan stood outside the storeroom at the Café Tropico, listening. Dennis had called
him a couple of nights ago to let him know Martinez had turned back up like a bad
penny and that he again suspected him of dealing drugs out of the restaurant. And
sure enough, Rogan had been here less than an hour this evening before the thug had
shown up and gone sauntering back to the storeroom like he owned the damn place.
The good news was that there’d been no sign of Gonzalez this time around. One thug
was easier to take down than two—it evened the playing field for Rogan. And given
that he’d picked up from April—despite her guarded language—that Gonzalez’s wife had
finally filed for divorce, he could only guess that maybe Juan was off licking his
wounds somewhere—or trying to get her back, for all he knew. He didn’t much care
where
the guy was as long as he wasn’t here. Sure, he wouldn’t like seeing Gonzalez get
off for his part in whatever was going down here, but with any luck maybe Martinez
would rat out his buddy before all was said and done.
And as for April—well, his heart stung every time she came to mind. So he tried not
to think about her. Especially at times like this, for God’s sake, when he needed
to stay sharp and keep his wits about him.
But still . . . shit. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened there, why she’d gotten
that upset about him keeping his family stuff to himself. And more than once he’d
thought about calling her up, telling her what she wanted to know.
Except that he
hated
thinking about his family and did so as seldom as possible. Which meant he sure as
hell
hated talking about them.
And
his past. The past was the past, and he wanted to keep it there. Maybe it had made
him who he was today, and maybe he should be grateful for that in a way—but the bad
crap in his childhood far outweighed what little good had come of it, and he saw no
reason to dredge it up. Not even for her.
And yeah, she’d been open with him. Open as hell. And that had moved him—it had meant
something to him. But just because she wanted to open herself up in those ways didn’t
mean he did. Or that he should have to. Women. Always wanting to talk, and share.
He shook his head. Why did they all have to be that way, for God’s sake? Why couldn’t
they just enjoy the present?
Right or wrong about all that, though, the hell of it was that it had upset him to
lose her—
still
upset him. He knew they hadn’t been seeing each other for long, and he knew they
hadn’t been in any kind of committed relationship, yet . . . there had been moments
when he’d wanted that with her. That had become startlingly clear every time Colt
had tried to fix him up with some other woman. He’d only wanted Ginger. Buttoned-up,
straitlaced but kinky-deep-down-inside Ginger.
He smiled even now thinking about what a walking contradiction she was. He’d kind
of loved that about her. And he’d liked being the one man in the world who had shown
that to her, who had uncovered all the hot, naughty passion hiding under those tailored
business suits.
Still, though, he couldn’t deny he’d let himself get in too deep with her, and now,
like it or not, this was starting to feel a little too much like when he’d parted
ways with Mira. It hurt, damn it. Hell—had he ever known a woman who could make him
smile just thinking about her at the very same time his heart felt like it was being
crushed in his chest because she wasn’t here? He’d been trying to guard against that,
but looked like he’d fucked up.
Just then, Martinez started talking on the phone.
Shit, dude, get your head back in the game.
Martinez spoke low, but as best as Rogan could tell, he was talking to a customer,
setting up a deal. This was it—this was finally coming down.
* * *
A
pril sat at the frozen yogurt bar where she’d met Kayla once before. It was a solid
hour past their meeting time, and still no Kayla. And no answer when she tried to
call, either. Her time was valuable and she’d been particularly irritable this week
since storming out of Rogan’s apartment, so she was in no mood for this, especially
when she could have been home by now, in comfy clothes, making herself something for
dinner.
Finally concluding this was a lost cause, she got up, threw her empty yogurt cup in
the trash, and walked out the door. She’d have some harsh words for her client the
next time they spoke.
The heat was particularly blistering when she hit the sidewalk, not helping her mood.
She’d had to park several blocks away, around the corner and up Ocean Drive.
When the Café Tropico came into view, her heart skipped a beat. So much had happened
here—every bit of it a surprise. A delicious, delectable surprise.
But it’s over now. So just keep on walking. Get back to your normal life.
And that would be easier once Kayla’s case was concluded—there would be nothing to
keep drawing her back to this part of town.
Just then, though, it occurred to her—could Kayla be here, inside the café? The sad
fact was, Kayla wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and she and April had gotten
their wires crossed more than once. In fact, Kayla had originally suggested meeting
at the Café Tropico again today, mentioning that Juan had split with Martinez and
wasn’t hanging out there anymore, so that it would be a safe spot. But April hadn’t
thought it a safe spot for
either
of them and had suggested the yogurt place instead. And still it wouldn’t surprise
her at all to find Kayla inside waiting for her.
And realistically, it was doubtful Rogan would be there, either, given that he’d told
her the owner was no longer having problems with Kayla’s scumbag husband and his friends.
So . . . well, maybe she’d just go in and take a quick peek, just to make sure Kayla
wasn’t there.
As usual when she arrived, it was too early for a crowd and the place was mostly empty
other than a couple of guys at the bar and a few vacationers at a far table by one
of the large, glassless windows. Which meant no Kayla, either. But the air inside
was blessedly cooler due to overhead fans and shade, and April decided it might be
wise to use the restroom in case she got stuck in rush-hour traffic.
So she turned toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms—and her eyes fell on none
other than the big bad wolf himself.
Her heart nearly stopped beating and she froze in place, too stunned to move. She
honestly hadn’t thought he’d be here or she’d have never risked coming inside.
His thick black hair looked like it could use a trim, dark stubble covered the lower
half of his handsome face, and he wore a white T-shirt that somehow gave him a simple
air of James Dean sexiness she’d never seen on him before. He was—oh God—too beautiful
for words, and the mere sight of him practically paralyzed her.