All of Me (23 page)

His jaw clenched, but other than that, all he did was stare through wild, vulnerable gray-blue eyes.

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he cupped the back of her neck and hauled her against him. One arm banded around her back, the other held the back of her head. His body shook as she pressed her face to his chest.

They stood for she didn’t know how long, until slowly, he slid his hand into hers and set them into motion. A dance. He rested his cheek to the side of her head and sighed.

And when he spoke, his voice was rough with unfiltered emotion. “I never got to dance with you.”

To say he woke up the following morning wouldn’t be accurate, because Alec had never fallen asleep after they’d made love. He’d lain awake all night, watching Faith sleep, stroking her arm, wishing she hadn’t actually said the words he knew to be true. Almost wishing she didn’t mean them. Except he wanted her to feel the same, and the utter fullness that encompassed his heart wouldn’t allow him to reject the gift she’d given.

He hadn’t told her he loved her back, not because he didn’t, but because it wouldn’t change anything. And Christ in heaven, he loved her more than he loved any one thing or person. More than his need to write, than air, than his own troubled life.

Regardless of everything they’d been through, he hadn’t loved Laura. Not like this. Not to the point he’d crumble to ash without her. That’s how he knew it was real with Faith. Because he hadn’t actually missed Laura. He’d just harbored the guilt and sadness for what could have been. What
happened to her was tragic, and he’d give up just about anything to undo that day. But that wasn’t possible.

He wasn’t out the door yet, and he missed Faith.

The pink hue of dawn peeked through her window and the squawk of seagulls told him he’d put things off long enough. They’d said their good-byes last night. There was no need to drag this out and make it harder on her.

Carefully, he slid from the bed and tucked her arm under the sheet. He dressed quietly, watching her, because he couldn’t seem to stop. She was beautiful in a natural way. Without makeup and frills. She didn’t need them. He didn’t have a picture of her—and that was probably a good thing—so he’d take this mental image with him.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the little charm he’d bought for her bracelet weeks ago. Even then he’d known. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he’d loved her the second her amber eyes met his that day on the beach.

Striding into the kitchen, he scratched one word onto a piece of paper and headed back to put the note and the charm on her nightstand.

Closing the front door behind him was the hardest thing he’d ever done. A panic attack nearly made him turn around, but somehow he put one foot in front of the other.

He walked across the drive, attempting to let the heat and humidity soak into his bones. The effort was fruitless. He had a feeling he’d never be warm again. When he made it across the mimosa grove and onto the other property, Jake was leaning against the hood of Alec’s car with his arms crossed, eyes tracking his movements.

Alec schooled his voice to resonate a calm he didn’t feel. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, making love to your wife?”

Jake offered a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry. I did. Many times. And I have the whole honeymoon to keep doing it.” He straightened. “I wanted to see you off.” He pulled Alec into a hug that had the air whooshing from his lungs. “I love you.”

Alec gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “Jesus, man. I love you, too.”

Instead of preaching at him like Alec expected, Jake pulled back and smacked his shoulder. “Drive carefully.”

Alec made no promises, and a week later, as he sat in his home office in his New York apartment, thought it was probably a good thing he hadn’t. Alec had almost no memory of the drive back and only a vague recollection of what he’d done to pass time since returning. It was as if someone had vacuumed out his soul. There was nothing left. He should be appreciative for the shocking numbness, but that would take effort.

He knew he’d written the first two chapters of the next book, because they were on the computer screen, but damn if he knew how he’d managed it. It wasn’t a half-bad start either. Only minor tweaking needed.

He’d eaten whatever his housekeeper put in front of him, not that he’d tasted anything. Coffee kept his brain going, because if he stopped drinking it, he’d fall into bed, where the sheets still smelled like her. Which was probably all in his head, because their trip to the city had been weeks ago, yet he hadn’t allowed the housekeeper to change the sheets because . . . shit. They smelled like her.

Sighing, he threw his pen down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He pressed his palms over his eyes. Groaned. Wanted to weep.

Fuck this. What he needed was air and to be outside of these walls. The torment of missing Faith would never cease if he kept this up. He was one step away from being loonier than his characters.

He strode into the living room and stopped. Tilting his head, he examined the creepy as hell room he’d hated since the minute the decorator finished with a flourished wave of her hand.

One by one, he took down the posters and framed covers, tossing them into a pile in the middle of the floor. The sculpture
was next. Raising it over his head, he dropped it on the frames, satisfied when the glass cracked and the sculpture shattered. He shredded the cushions on the red couches with a screwdriver and sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily.

Anger was better than feeling nothing. There was production in anger.

Paint. He could change the wall color himself. Yes, he needed paint. A lot of it to cover the dark, slate-gray cavern. Something happy. So fucking happy it made his teeth ache. Like the mint green of Faith’s bridesmaid dress.

Growling, he grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him so he could go to the hardware store. To not buy mint-green paint.

He needed this. A mindless task that involved physical work. Maybe that would eradicate Faith from his head.

Except, as the taxi dropped him off and drove away, Alec stood on the sidewalk facing Laura’s nursing home. A pleasant twenty-bed facility with white trim and shaded by sycamore trees that he had no intention of ever setting foot inside again.

He froze, his joints locking and his limbs nothing but deadweight.

Blackouts and missing time were the first signs of insanity. But no. He wasn’t crazy. He was desperate and lonely and missing home. This was where he was supposed to be, even if his subconscious knew it before he did.

It was time. Long past time.

Nausea rolled in his gut and threatened to choke him as he made his way to the front desk to sign in. The white halls and antiseptic smell were the same, as were the simplistic pictures and the pounding of his heart behind his ribs.

Out of respect for her parents and because visiting would serve no purpose, he hadn’t been here since the day she’d been admitted. He paid the bill once a month and called the nurse weekly, as a formality. Unless they read his books, no one here knew his face.

Her room at the end of the hall was the nicest money could buy, even though Laura would never be able to open her eyes and see it. Pink curtains shielded the harsh sunlight coming from the window just feet from her bed. Against the wall were beeping monitors and a pump bringing oxygen to her lungs. Cards and stuffed animals dotted every square inch of available space.

He stood just inside the doorway until he could force his feet to move to her bedside. The short, wispy strands of blond hair had grown out to shoulder-length—gone were the dyed pink tips she’d preferred. The luscious curves that had first drawn him to her were withered to an almost skeletal state. They had her dressed in a blue blouse she would’ve hated and a loose pair of white pants. A capped IV was in one arm and a catheter bag hung on the opposite bed rail.

Because his legs could no longer hold him, he sat on the side of the bed by her hip and lifted her cool hand. He swallowed hard, taking in the tracheotomy tube protruding from her windpipe.

“Hey, Laura. It’s been a long time.”

Of course, she didn’t respond, but talking to her gave him an odd sort of comfort. He rubbed circles in her palm with his thumb, remembering she used to like that small touch. Her fingernails were neat and clean. Before her accident, she was always elbow deep in acrylics while working on a canvas. It was strange, seeing her hands without at least some dried paint around the cuticles.

“Jake got married. I went home for the wedding. You would’ve hated it. Elegant and traditional. It was really nice, though.”

He sighed and gathered his wits to tell her everything. She may not be able to hear him and understand, but that didn’t make the telling any easier on him.

“I met someone in Wilmington. Her name’s Faith and she’s really quiet. I know, a total contrast from you, but
we . . . fit somehow. She has this crazy way of drawing out the best in people. Somehow, she found some good in me.”

His breath hitched and his voice cracked, sending tears pouring down his face. “I tried not to fall for her. Honest, I did. But she’s so damn lovable.” He wiped his eyes, but more tears came anyway, so he gave up. He felt like his chest was cracked wide open, splitting his ribs and exposing all the ugliness inside. “Even my dad loves her. But, Christ. Her own damn parents don’t. I know we complained about ours a lot, but hers take the cake. They made her believe she was invisible. I mean, she did nothing but love them and give them everything she had, and they just . . .”

He stilled as his voice trailed off, his gaze landing on the wall, eyes not seeing what was in front of him. Rather, the image of Faith’s face at the moment she had bravely confessed her love floated in his memory. Even when she knew he’d leave. Even though she knew he might not say it back. Even though no one had ever shown her any real version of love in her own life.

“They let her go. Just like I did.” Cementing her belief that she wasn’t someone worthy of their love. That no one would stick because, hell, everyone in her life walked. “I’m no better than they are.”

Slowly, he moved his gaze back toward the woman in the bed. Adrenaline tore through him, making his body shake. “I guess I really came to say good-bye.” He sniffed and blew out an uneven breath. “I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of, however long you’re here. You’ll get the best of everything. Always. But I can’t do this anymore. You and I . . . we never would’ve made it. And to keep lying to myself, to keep holding the guilt inside over a mistake you made while too young and swamped in grief, wouldn’t be fair to Faith. Or myself.”

Though it hurt to let go of her hand and lay it gently on the bed, hope bloomed in his chest. It had been so long since
he felt it that he almost didn’t recognize it. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I wish you well, Laura.”

*   *   *

Mia shoved another Tootsie Roll in her mouth and spoke around it. “Are you sure you don’t want one? Candy therapy works wonders.”

Faith leaned back on the Adirondack chair on the deck and forced a smile. She’d been doing that for a week, forcing a smile. Love wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt so bad you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. It was supposed to be joyous and everlasting.

Love wasn’t supposed to sneak out before dawn and leave a heart-shaped charm for the bracelet it bought you with a note that said,
Always.

She sighed. “You and baby are craving the sugar. I’m good.”

Mia had been coming by to keep Faith company in the evenings, after she was finished working with Ginny. Lacey and Jake were due back from their honeymoon any minute now, but Mia had taken it upon herself to be Faith’s babysitter so she wouldn’t wallow too deep in misery while they were gone.

It was nice of Mia to try and make her feel better, but nothing was going to accomplish that. Alone or with friends, busy or bored, Alec was there, hurting her all over again. Hurting himself. When would this end? When would the pain stop?

“Why don’t you go back to Charlotte for a couple of days?” Mia suggested. “Maybe the comfort of home will help.”

“There’s nothing there for me.” Another realization she’d come to this week.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Alec had wanted her to cling tight to her friendship with Mia and Lacey. He was right, too. Her friends should know more about her, other than that she had a sister who died. Opening her eyes, she looked at Mia and spilled her guts.

“So, there’s no one but you guys. My parents will always be my parents, but they’re not you guys. I’m better off in Wilmington.”

Mia took her hand in hers and squeezed. “Then here you shall stay. You’ll always have us.”

Appreciative that Mia didn’t barrage her with questions or sympathy, Faith looked at the ocean. Sunlight hit the waves and reflected. A few sailboats dotted the horizon. Calming as the water was, it, too, only reminded her of Alec.

“I think I need to find my own apartment.” There wasn’t anywhere on the estate she could go that didn’t tie back to a painful memory. She’d miss waking up to this view, but she needed a change. She couldn’t keep going on like this.

“I’ll help you look for a place, if that’s what you want.”

Faith didn’t know what she wanted, besides Alec. And she couldn’t have him.

Mia leaned forward. “My mother was an alcoholic. I think she drank to forget about the pain, until one day she got so deep in the bottle no one could get her back out.” She sighed and glanced away. “Like your parents with you, she never formed a connection to Ginny. I don’t know why. Maybe because of her depression or Ginny’s disability, who knows. I tried to make up for that by being everything Ginny needed. I had no support system and no backup plan.” She trained her blue gaze on Faith. “And then I came back here. It wasn’t easy, and there was a lot standing in our way, but Cole loved me. The rest of it didn’t matter. My mother’s inability to love wasn’t Ginny’s fault, and it’s not your fault either that your parents are incapable. They’re the ones with the loose wire, not you.”

Faith didn’t know what to say, other than Mia and Cole were perfect for each other. Ginny was darn lucky to have Mia. It took a lot of strength to not only carry on, but to carry someone else when there was nothing left. She knew Mia was right, too, but it was hard to argue the point when her parents had been perfectly capable of loving Hope.

Regret and understanding shone in Mia’s eyes. “You just need one person, Faith, to make you believe in yourself. One person to make you believe you are someone. Because you are someone. Don’t doubt that for a minute.”