Headstrong (30 page)

“Was he there for it?”

“He was away when the car accident happened, but he came home when he found out. Though I asked him not to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, he felt obligated, I guess.”

“No, I mean why didn’t you want him to come home?” Libby asked.

“He was supposed to be in the Olympics at the time.”

“Oh, shit. Right.”

“But he came home anyway. It was a bloody nice thing for him to do. Too nice, in my opinion. Like I needed another thing to feel like a shit about.”

“And he’d gone back to wherever by the time you tried to…?”

“Yeah. The Games were buggered, thanks to me, and he went back to his teaching job in England. I pretty much forced him to. I made my parents and Annie promise not to tell him about it after I tried to kill myself. And when he found out a couple years later, it wasn’t even from me or them—he heard through a friend, since lots of people here knew. This friend of ours was just trying to be nice, you know, ask how I was doing. But it’s not how he should have found out.” Colin cleared his throat. “I should have told him myself but I kept putting it off. I think that really hurt him, being left in the dark about that. But I couldn’t bear to have him come back again to try to pick up the pieces of my fucked-up little life for me… You have a twin sister, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And she’s all picture-perfect, isn’t she?”

“Painfully.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her picture-perfect picture,” Colin said. “Well, imagine her rushing in with all her perfection when you’re feeling more like a screw-up than you ever have in your entire life. And her wanting to help fix everything you’ve fucked up. I couldn’t handle that. Reece is…special. Really talented. He beats himself up about not being here for our family through all that stuff, like when our dad was sick. I give him shit for it too, sometimes. But it’s insane for him to be back here when there’s better opportunities over there, chances to travel.”

“Maybe he loves his family. Ever think of that?”

“Sure.” Colin fell silent.

“So did somebody save you, when you tried to drown yourself?”

“Yeah, some wharfie. Poor bastard—I was such an ungrateful dick to him. I was in so much pain back then.”

“And now?” Libby asked.

“Yeah, still, but I got over myself a lot when my dad got sick. Without Reece around I became the man of the house, by default. Grew up a bit.”

Libby thought for a moment. “So that’s why you don’t drink or drive?”

He nodded. “I think I forfeited those privileges the night of the accident. I can’t stand the thought of drinking again, anyway, even a half a glass of beer. Makes me feel sick to my stomach. And driving just scares the shit out of me, of course. I can’t even
ride
in a car when it’s raining.”

Libby stared thoughtfully off toward the wall beyond Colin. “You know, Tiger, you’re more my twin than my
twin
is.”

“That doesn’t flatter you. But I think it reflects pretty well on me. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What’s with the flirting?” He looked over at her with a guilty smirk.

“My tarty persona? I started doing that after I got out of the institution. I was kind of petrified of men, but I guess I was more angry than I was scared. After the whole pregnancy thing happened, my parents started treating me like a complete skank. Especially my dad. So I figured if he was going to treat me that way, I’d give him a reason to. Or at least let him think it was true. And then I figured out that men are actually a lot less scary than I’d thought. They’re actually really easy to control. No offense.”

“None taken. But why do that to your dad? Why make him worry even more? Why not just forget him and move on?”

“Because fuck him, that’s why. He’ll never believe I’m anything except a terrible failure of a person, so I let him. I’m sort of hoping he’ll disown me one day. I’ve been trying everything I can think of to tarnish our family’s good name ever since I finished school.”

“That’s pretty harsh, Libby.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “I’ve sort of given that up, now, all that stuff I got in trouble for that you read about. But he still has me followed, obviously.”

“Not that it’s my business, but have you ever thought about forgiving him?”

“Nope. Why should I do that? He stuffed me in the back of a closet when I needed him most.”

“Well, a lot of parents wouldn’t forgive some piece of shit who drove after a couple beers and killed their daughter. But some do, eventually. And it can save somebody’s sanity, being forgiven.”

Libby felt another icy chill but wasn’t ready to soften. “Well, if my father ever shows any sign of regret, I may
consider
considering it. But not now. And I’m not giving up the tart act, either.”

“You know what you are?” Colin squinted at her, seeming ready to let the heavy topics slide. “You’re like the Madonna/whore complex, inverted. You’re a near-virgin behind closed doors and a tramp on the street. There’s got to be a ton of very psychologically confused blokes out there just dying to meet a piece of work like you.”

“You Nolans do know how to flatter.”

“If I was your brother, I wouldn’t let you talk to men the way you do,” Colin said.

“Well, I’m so very glad you’re not. That would mean Reece was my brother as well, and that would make the messing around really disturbing.”

“And if this were fifty years ago I’d tell you you’re asking for trouble.”

“And I’m so very glad I don’t have to wear pantyhose,” Libby said.

Colin turned on his side and took Libby’s shoulder in his hand, pulled her face to his throat and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Their bent knees touched, and she clasped her hands in front of her heart as his hand tangled in her hair.

Lying there, her head held so fiercely and compassionately in Colin’s warm hand, Libby felt something shift in her perception of…pretty much everything. Everything that had been missing from her ridiculous experiments with Reece, that elemental warmth and mutuality, that affection, it was here. It had always been here. And it had always scared her, until now.

Libby let her hand find Colin’s side and tugged herself tighter into this hug. Her sadness drained away, replaced with a sudden,
potent
, animal curiosity. As she let her body to press into his, she heard and felt a shift in him too—a tightening. A hitch in the rhythm of his breathing. All the things that happened to her own body each time she’d managed to steal a little taste of his brother’s affections. What would it feel like, she wondered, to explore those delicious, denied feelings with someone who actually reciprocated them? How would it feel to give those feelings, instead of taking them?

The hand that had developed a firm grip on Colin’s waist slid up, running over his strong arm, fingers slipping beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. Her breathing turned heavy, and she could feel the moisture of it building against his neck. The length of Colin’s body grew rigid and alert, and Libby pulled her head back to gaze at him. His eyes were half-lidded and unsteady, brows raised with uncertainty. Libby swallowed, staring at his mouth.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered, and shut his eyes.

“Do what?” Libby asked, but then she did it.

Her lips against his, already parted—the most perfect fit imaginable. Colin’s hand twitched in her hair but he didn’t pull away. Eyes still clenched shut, he submitted, and Libby put her hand to his jaw and kissed him deeper. His mouth surrendered and when he kissed her back—the pressure of his lips and his hand, the hot glide of his tongue against hers, the sound of exquisite disbelief rising from his throat—Libby officially understood what kissing was all about.

She let her knees brush his again, hoping he might invite her legs to tangle with his, but he didn’t. She held his face tightly, not wanting this slow, exploratory, unexpected moment to ever end.

Her tongue slid between his lips to find his again, and suddenly it was as if Colin had been bitten. He pulled away, roused from some trance and all at once wide awake. He swung his legs over the ledge of the pool table and hopped off, running a hand across his jaw.

Libby sat up, alarmed by the distress she’d caused him. Causing people distress was normally something she enjoyed and excelled at, but she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Colin. She stood and stepped to him, trying to read his face. Please don’t let her lose both Nolans in one night…

“Colin?” She put her hands on his shoulders, studying the panic in his eyes.

“Don’t do this to me.” He plucked her fingers away from his shirt, handing them back to her. He met her eyes and smiled weakly. Sadly.

“I’m sorry.” Her fingers clasped together at her waist, uncertain of the specifics of their offense. “I thought you wanted that.”

Colin covered his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting go a painful-sounding sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Dear God, how had she misjudged this so badly?

He uncovered his eyes and stared at her, his panic seeming to have subsided. After a few moments spent gathering his thoughts, he took Libby firmly by the arms, holding her at a distance. “Don’t be sorry. Just…please don’t do that again. You don’t know what that does to me.”

“Oh.”

“I know you aren’t trying to be cruel, but
Christ
. That’s…”

“Sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he repeated. “C’mere.”

Libby accepted his hug, careful to keep her embrace as limp and platonic as possible.

When Colin stepped back he was smiling again. “Holy hell, woman.” His humor had returned though he was clearly still rattled.

Libby bit her lip, stifling her fourth apology.

Colin gave her a little shake. “Do you always wave bright red capes about when you’re in a bull pen? No wonder you’re constantly getting yourself in trouble with blokes.”

“Well, someone always comes along to save me,” she said meekly, testing the waters of their resumed normality.

“Yeah, well, he can’t do that if you’ve got him incapacitated. God, don’t
do that
.”

“Sorry.” This time when she said it, she was laughing.

“I’m going to throttle you.” He looked around the room, fixing his gaze on the frosted panes of the window. Rain hammered hard on the other side. “I guess you can’t stay on your boat, even if you wanted to.”

“No. Probably not.”

“Are you ready to go up? Get some sleep before our big
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner
date tomorrow?”

“I guess.”

“You can sleep in my bed, if you want to avoid seeing Reece. I don’t mind the couch. He’s up early tomorrow, I think. You’d only have to hide out until seven, maybe.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want him to think I care, you know? Salvage some dignity, unlike last time.”

“Gotcha. Ready?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, what the hell.”

Chapter Seventeen

Libby’s jaw dropped. She hoisted it back up and fixed her mouth into an approving smirk.

Colin leaned in the kitchen doorway, gazing over at the couch where Libby sat with her hair twirled up in a towel, post-shower. He’d put on a white collared shirt under a black sweater this morning, and his sneakers had been replaced with shined shoes. Without his usual urban trappings distracting the eye, precisely how handsome Colin was became strikingly clear. He held up the coffee pot as an inquiry.

“No, thanks. You clean up real nice, Tiger.”

He looked down at himself. “You reckon? Jeans are still okay, right? It’s just a posh bistro, isn’t it, the place you picked?”

Libby’s smile evaporated. “Oh, no no no. You can’t wear that tonight!”

“Too casual?”

“No! Too fancy. I need regular, everyday Colin. I need you in a T-shirt and crusty shoes with your tattoos all showing.”

His eyebrows rose. “Exactly what impression am I meant to make, again?”

“Something my father will disapprove of. You look
way
too presentable right now. You can’t wear that.”

“I thought your dad was supposed to think you were behaving yourself.”

“That’s Reece’s job, to give him that idea. It’s your job to help me continue my tradition of disappointing him…without
totally
freaking him out. I’ve been doing it for ten years now, and one day he’s going to finally give up on me completely and leave me alone.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed—the first sincerely angry expression he’d ever aimed at her.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Libby. Why not replay the last minute of this conversation in your head and try to
guess
why I might be insulted right now.”

Libby could see the coffee trembling inside its pot. “Don’t be angry.”

“I
am
angry. That hurt, you know.”

“Tiger—”

“I won’t be angry in a half hour, but I am right now. And I’ll still turn up and play the part of your fuck-up escort, since I’m apparently such a natural choice. But let me be pissed off for a little while.” He gave her a final squint and turned away, setting the coffee on the counter en route his room, tugging the sweater up over his back.

“Colin.” Libby was used to playing on men’s emotions, but not like this. Especially not after what she’d done the night before. The power she seemed to have over this man was alarming. She hopped up and jogged to his bedroom door. “Colin.”

He pulled a T-shirt over his bare chest, and Libby had to swallow back another dose of that fear his body always triggered.

“Forget it,” he sighed, sounding as though he was already getting over her slight.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just…I don’t know. You’re not every father’s dream, I guess.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

“You can dress nice if you want.”

“No, I’ll play by your rules.” His voice was quiet and sad. “After what you told me last night, I can’t say I’m too keen to impress him, anyhow.”

“I
really
didn’t mean it like that,” she repeated, thinking of what he’d told her, and how he was surely one particular father’s complete and utter nightmare. She could practically hear the sarcastic slow-clapping for her latest show of diplomacy. “I’m sure I’d disappoint a lot of people’s mothers if they brought me to dinner.”