Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2) (36 page)

“I’m s-sorry, Mina. For everything.”

“Me, too.” Mina squeezed her arm.

Their misery hung heavy in the room. Emily’s heart ached to see the anguish on her cousin’s face. She didn’t know any words to take away Mina’s pain, but she wished to make her understand, at least, that she hadn’t shut her out to be cruel.

“I was afraid if I told y-y-you the truth, then I’d be forced to think about why I was marrying Luke.” Emily’s voice wavered and she cleared her throat. “And if I thought too m-much about it, I’d have to admit the p-pregnancy was the only reason he p-proposed, and I was so desperate and scared and lonely, I let myself believe his p-proposal was real.”

Mina lifted her shoulders. “He’s a guy. Maybe he doesn’t show it, but he cares about you, Em. I can see that he does.”

Emily sniffled and nodded, wanting with all her heart to believe Mina’s words.

A determined frown came over Mina’s face. “We’re married to brothers and that makes us sisters. We have to promise each other, no matter what, we’ll be there for each other to talk, or listen, or plot revenge. Whatever is necessary.”

Her words plucked Emily like a tuning fork and startled a laugh from her.

Since her mom became ill, she’d had no one with which she’d shared her inner world. Not her heart or her fears. Nothing of her true self. Even before that, her social phobias caused her to hold herself back, keeping people away so that they couldn’t hurt her. If they didn’t know her, the real her, they couldn’t reject her.

Harrison’s cruelty had changed her at the core and made her suspect she lacked some essential quality, which made her unlovable. So she made sure no one ever got close enough to confirm her fear one way or the other.

She’d moved to the island because she craved a connection with Mina. Along the way, she’d collected a husband and a baby. But how could any of them come to love her if she never let them know her?

The real her.

Though she’d thought so at one time, she now knew Luke wasn’t without insecurities. Maybe he was afraid of opening up to her. Maybe, if she opened her heart to him, he’d do the same, and then he’d begin to trust her with his worries. Maybe, if he knew she loved him, he’d open his heart to her. Maybe her love would help him conquer whatever demons chased him.

Maybe it’d make him happy.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d love her back.

An urgency she couldn’t explain gripped her. She pushed to her feet. “I have to go.”

Mina looked up at her. “Right now?”

“I have to find Luke. There’s s-something I have to tell him.”

She couldn’t wait a single moment more to tell him what was in her heart, not when he was hurting and it might give him some comfort.

She didn’t notice the wrinkle of worry creasing Mina’s brow.

Three hours later, frustration eroded her fantasy of rescuing him. He wouldn’t answer her texts, or pick up her call when she did the previously unthinkable and phoned him.

She had to find him right away. But how?

Her spine snapped straight when a thought struck.

Emily crawled down Main Street in the sedan, her fifth pass through downtown in the last hour. As she approached the traffic light, it switched to yellow and she slowed the car to a stop. Craning her neck, she peered down the side streets in search of his SUV. Dejected, she slung back in her seat.

That’s when she saw him, pulling up to the stoplight opposite her.

Her heart tripped into an erratic rhythm.

She used to pray for courage. When kids teased her, or her teachers grew frustrated with what they viewed as laziness or defiance, she’d imagined saying bold things. Something clever and quick to knock them back or prove their assumptions wrong.

When her mom grew sick and the doctors kept saying there was nothing they could do, Emily prayed for the courage to fight them. To demand they not give up on Audrey. On them.

She hadn’t found the strength to be brave then, but this time would be different. No matter how difficult, she’d find a way. For him.

The light flicked to green, but she stayed with her foot on the brake pedal while Luke and two more cars progressed through the intersection. Behind her, a car horn blared.

Chewing her bottom lip, she eased the Jetta forward, then whipped the steering wheel hard to the left and executed a U-turn beneath the traffic light.

The sedan following her rocked to a jerky stop. More horns blared. Emily ignored the over-permed, gray-haired woman flipping her the bird as she passed by and pressed down on the gas pedal with steady pressure until she caught up with Luke’s SUV.

She continued to push down on the accelerator, nudging the nose of her car as close to his rear bumper as she dared. His head bobbled back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror. He lifted a hand, as if in question.

With a hard stomp on the accelerator, she swallowed her fear and swung the car out into the passing lane. She breezed by him, topping out at forty-two miles per hour.

Seventeen miles per hour over the posted legal limit.

A stop sign came into view and she slowed, but clearly did not come to a complete stop, before turning right onto Lakeshore Drive. In her rearview, he stopped at the sign, and paused, as if contemplating whether to follow.

She couldn’t give him the option not to.

She punched the accelerator. The Jetta’s engine whimpered and the car lurched forward on the winding coastal drive.

He pursued.

She had him right where she wanted him. Her sole focus shifted to the upcoming turn. At the last possible moment, she cranked the steering wheel hard and—without indicating her intention with the car’s turn signal—whipped into her driveway.

In front of the house, she threw the car in park and scrambled out from behind the wheel.

His SUV ambled up the long, winding drive until finally he rolled to a stop beside her. A pair of mirrored sunglasses masked his gaze and the white stick of a lollipop dangled from his lips.

With a soft electric whir, he lowered the window. “What are you doing?”

She swallowed the lump of terror that rose up to clog her throat.

You’re a piranha.

The memory twisted.

He’d touched more than her body. He’d stolen so many of her fears and disappointments. Destroyed her misconceptions about herself. No matter what happened between them, she’d be eternally grateful to him for that.

With her nervous hesitation, he shot from the car. He yanked the sunglasses off his face and green eyes knocked into her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I-I love y-you.” The words burst from her to hang in the air between them.

He stood frozen for a long painful moment. Then he eased slightly back. Away from her.

In the heavy silence, her skin stretched tight and the air passages in her lungs constricted. “I just w-wanted you to know. Y-y-you don’t have to say it back.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

She flinched as though struck, and stumbled back a step. He didn’t love her. He liked her, and possibly, he even cared for her, but he didn’t love her. And the feelings she thought she’d seen weren’t his feelings, but her own feelings reflecting back at her.

He. Didn’t. Love. Her.

Harrison was right.

“I didn’t deceive you, Emily.”

“I know.”

She wanted to be mad at him for making her believe, but she couldn’t. He hadn’t done this, she had. He’d proposed because he was an honorable man, and she’d let herself believe his proposal was real because she couldn’t bear to think otherwise.

He’d proposed, but it was a lie, and she’d let herself believe the lie because she wanted so badly to belong to someone. Anyone. Even if they didn’t belong to her.

With his silence, a chill seeped under her skin.

Backing away, she started to shake. “I’m sorry. I m-misunderstood. It’s m-my fault. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

She raced up the porch steps, fumbling for her keys.

His hand came down over the lock to stop her from unbolting the door. “What does that mean, you thought you could do this?”

She didn’t want to be near him while the truth twisted and tormented her. “I’m going away.”

A long moment passed in which he didn’t speak or move. His face changed and a Luke she didn’t recognize emerged. Not the smooth charmer or the cool cop. This Luke was wild. Frantic.

And angry.

So very, very angry.

Rage rolled off him in waves and threatened to pull her down with the undertow. “You’re leaving me?”

“I don’t w-want to be the only o-o-one in love.”

Hot fury blazed in his eyes. “Have I not given you enough? Have I mistreated you in some way?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then stop this.” He turned toward his car. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

She watched his back as he retreated down the porch steps. Natalie’s words ricocheted around in her mind.

He isn’t capable of love
.

Maybe it was true and he’d never love her. He’d never loved any of them. Not Kate. Or Natalie. Certainly not Emily.

“No.” With vicious swipes, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I want more.”

“More what?” His voice broke with his frustration.

“More of y-you.”

His eyes glittered. “You want me to cut out my heart and give it to you?”

“Yes.” The word flew from her. “I want your heart.”

All the hot fury in him cooled in an instant. “That isn’t going to happen.”

Her heart cracked open and she gasped with the pain.

His head bent, and it took her a moment to realize he’d become riveted by something at her feet. She looked down to see that morning’s newspaper. On the front page was a picture of her house beneath large black typeface.

He crouched down and rescued the paper from the snow. Reading, he unfolded it.

His face darkened.

When his gaze snapped to her face, she shrunk back. A muscle ticked along his jaw. He turned the paper, holding it over his chest.

The headline screamed at her.

House of Porn?

Allegations surround controversial new movie filmed on Thief Island

Words jammed in her throat.

He spoke in a low, dangerous tone. “You lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t m-m-mean to. M-Max, after he changed the script I was w-w-worried, but—”

Betrayal slashed across his features.

She wanted to scream, to beg him to understand, to say all the words, any words, that would make things right between them again.

As always, no words were available to her.

He whipped the paper to the ground with a violent snap.

Cold green eyes lashed her. “You’re right, it’s best if you go.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

T
he days passed in a haze of despair and whiskey, with sprinklings of work and sleep.

He stared into the bottle of amber liquid, seeing only tormented whiskey-colored eyes. His grip tightened on the bottle’s neck.

Whiskey mixed with agony. The memory of her soft moans invaded his mind and tunneled through his veins.

She’d lied to him. It was the one thing he couldn’t tolerate.

Through the murky alleys of his alcohol-addled mind, he fought to recall what she had admitted to, exactly.

Suspicions. She’d had them. Maybe.

He’d glimpsed the guilt in her eyes and, drowning under the weight of her abandonment, he’d lashed out. As long as she was there, he had a chance of finding his way out of the dark tunnel. Eventually. But if she were gone, there was no hope.

So like a snarling dog with a bone, he’d latched on to the idea that she’d lied to him because it was far easier to send her away than it was to watch her leave him.

No matter how they’d come to it, the fact was, she was gone, and with the loss, something inside him had snapped.