The Virgin: Redemption (2 page)

“If only I could undo it,” I murmured. “Undo a lot of things.”

Tipping my head back, I stared at the sky, leaden clouds gathering overhead. The breeze had a cool bite to it while vivid leaves – shades of red and yellow - whipped through the cemetery. “There’s no undoing anything, though. Is there?”

I found myself thinking about Drake. Not my father, but Drake. The way I’d felt almost happy, for the first time in ten years. If I’d let myself, maybe I could have really
been
happy. Instead, I was selfish and stupid and blind. Now it was too late.

It all felt so unfinished, but I didn’t know what to do.

With a tired sigh, I looked back at my father’s headstone and smoothed a hand down the grass.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered as I rose to my feet. I rested my hand on the stone, lingered one more moment.

As my hand fell away, a prickle danced along my skin. The very air seemed to change.

I wasn’t alone.

My breath caught, heart lurched as I turned; I didn’t even have to look. I knew who it would be. Part of me wondered why I even
cared
, except I knew the answer to that.

All those unanswered questions rose back up inside me. Unfinished? Oh, hell yes.

But I definitely hadn’t planned on finishing anything
here
.

I’d left everything that wasn’t mine behind—the phone, the iPad, the files. I’d had movers put my belongings into storage and I’d paid the landlord for the remaining months on my apartment.

I was out of Philadelphia that very night.

And he had been looking for me, that very night. Not even four hours passed before he had started calling, digging up the cellphone number I’d left when I first applied for the job. I saw his name and hadn’t answered. That didn’t keep him from texting, or leaving voicemails.

I hadn’t responded, not even once. Because I didn’t trust myself, I’d deleted the messages without reading them. I didn’t listen to my voicemail, either.

He hadn’t stopped trying, although the calls went from hourly to daily to weekly.

I’d almost blocked his number, but something wouldn’t let me.

My chest started to ache and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I forced myself to breathe again as I stared at him, watching as he took one slow step, then another toward me. The early morning mist twined around his legs, his eyes locked on my face, like he didn’t dare look away.

Drake.

He’d found me.

He’d found me.

I suppose I’d expected it to happen, but not here.

Unwilling to face him at the place where I was absolutely at my most vulnerable, I moved away from my father’s grave, striding to meet him on the landscaped walkway.

My hands moved into my pockets, curling into fists. Maybe if I kept them there, I’d be less likely to reach for him. I’d missed him, yeah, but I hadn’t thought it would feel like
this
to see him, have my heart hammer in my chest while my palms slicked with sweat.

He hadn’t called in eight days. Eight days.

There had been no calls in eight days.

Maybe that should have prepared me for this.

But why did he have to show up
here
?

How did he know?

My father had been killed in Florida.

We’d paid to have his body brought here.

Ten years ago, news hadn’t travelled in
quite
the same way it did now. The internet had been buzzing, yes, but Myspace had been the thing, not Facebook and Twitter. You didn’t hear about a murder in Florida unless it was just something really spectacular.

It had shaken the bedrock of my world, but it hadn’t made a ripple in the scheme of things. I’m logical enough to realize that.

The events had taken place over just a few days and it had redefined everything for me, but there was no reason—

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on my face.

My heart did that crazy lurch inside my chest, but I ignored it, angling my chin up as I planted a cool smile on my face. Although everything inside me felt shaken and it seemed like the ground had crumbled under my feet, I reached for that calm that I’d felt when I’d been in Philadelphia. It had come easily then, not so much now. Maybe because I realized it had been a mask.

But I could fake it. I
would
fake it. Watching him, I lifted an eyebrow and said, “Well, well, well. Small world.”

Seconds ticked away. He said nothing.

Something uncomfortable ticked inside me as those green eyes cut into me, but as those moments stretched out and there was simply silence, I shrugged and attempted to walk past him. I felt the heat of him reaching out to me and I could smell that wild, woodsy scent—

His hand closed around my arm and I gasped as he whirled me around, sending me crashing into his chest.

One hand shoved into my hair, a bit longer now. He tangled his hand in it, tugged my head back. “You left,” he muttered. That was all he said before his mouth came crashing down on mine.

I sucked in a breath. To scream, to snarl, to tell him to stop. Something. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not when my father lay under six feet of cold dirt just a few yards away. But then, the kiss softened. One hand came up to cradle my cheek and he lifted his head, a harsh rasp of air escaping him as he mumbled against my mouth, “Shan, damn it. Why did you leave me?”

There was something so confused, almost desperate in his voice.

I had him.

The knowledge bloomed inside me and I knew I’d done what I set out to do. I’d wanted him to suffer, as I had.

I’d hurt so badly after he left me, that foolish, naïve girl that I’d been. I’d set my hopes on a dream and it had smashed, but it was more than just the dream I’d lost. It was everything that happened after.

I
had
him.

The very thing I’d set out to do. And it hurt me more than I could even begin to describe. It made me feel dirty, small and evil. The thought of making
him
feel the way I’d felt was enough to make me want to vomit.

Swallowing back the nasty, bitter taste that rose in the back of my throat, I shook my head and disengaged myself from his arms. “Let me go,” I said, forcing the words out. I had to get away from here.

I had to get away from
him
.

Had to think.

“Damn it, Shan. We’re going to talk,” he said, taking a step and advancing on me.

“Not here.” I shook my head, looking around, my gaze bouncing off the headstones, the grave markers. Some of them were so old, they were starting to crumble. Slate didn’t hold up to the elements very well. Those older ones had stood here in the cemetery for hundreds of years and you couldn’t even read them anymore. One held a grinning skull and I stared at its morbid face, hunching my shoulders. “We can’t talk here.”

“Then where?” he snapped and the heat of his gaze all but scorched me. “In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t exactly taking my calls. And you
left
. Is that how seriously you take a job? You just up and leave?”

A
job
. I wanted to laugh, but the jab had its effect. It was a slap to my pride and he likely knew it. “I left a list of qualified applicants with Mr. Coltrane,” I said woodenly. “As you probably know, that’s not the sort of job I’m cut out for. That fact was driven home once you left and I had time to think. I figured a clean break was best, and Mr. Coltrane had his own administrative assistant.”

He scoffed. “Tally doesn’t know my company.
You
do. It took nearly three weeks to get things back to where we needed and Mai had to help out. If your intention was to fuck with me, congratulations, you succeeded.”

I slid him a look, refused to let him see that his comment had been a direct hit. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I cost Gallagher Enterprises some money? How thoughtless of me.”

“Is that what this is about? You want to get back at me for how I handled everything before? Fine. You did. Slate is clean and we can start over.”

I fought the urge to look back over my shoulder.
Slate is clean
?
Instead of glancing toward my father’s resting place, I shrugged. “If you want to call the slate clean, then we can do that. As to the rest of it?” I shook my head. I couldn’t even begin to think about the rest of that now. Not here, of all places.

The thought of starting over with Drake—even for the brief seconds I let myself consider it, had something fluttering to life inside me. It might have been hope, but I crushed it before it could start to grow.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

He blocked my way, his hand coming up to touch my cheek. I averted my face and his hand fell away.

“No starting over?” he said, his voice quiet. “So what was going on between us in Philadelphia?”

“Drake, Philadelphia was…” I didn’t know how to answer that. I had to answer him, and if I was wise, if I had any sense of responsibility, I’d give him a
real
answer. But how did I explain that? “Look, this isn’t the place to talk about it.”

“Then where is? Name the place. The time. Convince me you’ll be there and you can walk away.”

His eyes were intent on my face.

Name the place. The time
. My heart thudded so heavy and hard in my chest and I backed away as he took another step closer. Swallowing, I jerked my head around. “Drake, just…”

“You don’t plan on telling me anything,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. Here it is. What in the hell happened in Philadelphia, Shan? Explain it to me and I’ll go.”

My hands shook. I tightened them into fists.
Go
? I didn’t know if I wanted him to do that, but I couldn’t think. Not here. Not now. “Philadelphia was…” I looked away. “Ten years.”

I was babbling, I knew it, but I couldn’t stop it. “I had you in my system for ten years and I needed it to stop. I’d always wondered and now I don’t have to—”

“That was just…” I paused, then shrugged. “Getting you out of my system. I can’t look forward when I’m always looking back and wondering. Now I can stop wondering.” I darted a look at him, saw the rigid set of his jaw.

What are you doing?
my head screeched at me and my mouth continued to move and I found myself shrugging. “Maybe I should say thanks.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you idiot
! I was horrified. What was I saying? Spinning away, I started to edge around him. I had to get out of there before I made this any worse. “Look, we can…I dunno. Talk. I’m staying at the—”

I glanced back, pausing by one of the obelisks, those strange memorials that jutted up into the sky. Such an odd way to memorialize the dead. I looked for Drake. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t see…

Oh.

Oh, no.

Nerves spurred me to move faster as the rain started to come down.

“Shannon.”

His voice soft, shaken, came from behind me, but I didn’t look back.

“For pity’s sake, would you—”

I slipped, my heel sliding off the wet stones.

Brilliant pain burst through me as my head struck one of the stones. I heard a shout. It might have been him. It could have been me.

Everything grayed around me and then I caught a glimpse of his face. It was the last thing I saw. Then it was just…darkness.

Lights, brilliant and blinding, were the first thing I saw…then again, his face.

I barely had a moment to focus on him before everything else assaulted me. The smell hit me first and it was like a fist around my throat.

It took me back, straight back into the hell of that day.

A nurse reached out to touch me and I flung out a fist. Somebody caught my hand and distantly, I heard him speaking, heard the shock in his voice, but nothing connected.

I was too busy hearing the voices from long ago. My mother, saying my name over and over, and my own voice. Screaming. Just screaming. They had just told me—

“Damn it, just back off for a fucking minute!”

Drake’s voice cut through everything else and then his hands cupped my face. Sucking in a breath, I stared into his face. His nose was just an inch from mine. My head pounded, throbbed horribly.

Hospital…

I was in a hospital.

I couldn’t stand hospitals.

“Why am I here?” I whispered, locking on his face so I didn’t have to see anything else.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He looked at me like I was a stranger and then, slowly, so very slowly, he eased back. “You fell,” he said, spacing each word out. “You hit your head.”

That might explain the pounding.

It didn’t matter. Unless I was in danger of losing a limb or ready to have a heart attack, I couldn’t stay here.

Deep inside, I started to tremble and soon, I was shaking so hard, I thought I might be ill. Carefully, I pulled back and Drake reluctantly let go. It took some fumbling but I managed to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Whoa. Was the floor really that far down?

Doesn’t matter—

“Ms. Crosby, you need to—”

A hand went to touch my arm and I jerked my head. Immediately, a thousand slivers of pain sliced into me. I ignored them, focusing on the nurse in front of me. There were three of them, but since they all looked the same, I assumed it was because of whatever I’d done to my head. Focusing on the one in the middle, I waited until my vision settled a bit and then I said softly, “Do not touch me.”

“You shouldn’t get up,” she said, her gaze just as hard as I suspected mine was. “You have a concussion. You’re likely to experience some dizziness with the head wound so you need to be still until we’ve done the assessment. We need to—”

“I am leaving,” I said slowly, saying it with great care so she understood me. “I don’t care if the doctor wants to run tests or poke or prod. I am leaving and if you don’t like it, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

The lines around her eyes tightened and she inclined her head. “You understand it’s dangerous to leave without knowing how extensive your injury is.”