Whispering Hearts (17 page)

“He has a brother,”
Misha said.

“No he doesn't.”

Garrett had never mentioned a sibling of any sort. Rachel knew his parents, had seen them at tons of social events. Garrett was the only person they ever brought along or talked about.

“Forgive me, I misspoke. He
had
a brother.”

Had
… Her heart sank at the thought, weighed down by countless tragic scenarios that played through her head.

It must have happened years ago—decades, even. She had never heard anyone, living or dead, speak of Garrett's brother.

“Garrett was with him when it happened,”
Misha said.

Rachel jumped up and shook her head. “No. You can't tell me this. If Garrett wants me to know, he'll tell me himself.”

Why hadn't he told her? It must have been terrible for him. She wanted to know more, wanted to run to Garrett and hold him and for once be the one to comfort him.

“He won't have a chance if you run away after this. I know you, Rachel. It's what you do.”

Misha's voice took on that strange cast again toward the end of his sentence. He sounded angry. She wasn't having it.

“Why does it matter to you? You already had your shot at life. This is mine. I can mess it up if I want to.”

“Forgive me. It's just painful to watch someone I care about throwing away their best chance at happiness.”

“Maybe I don't get to be happy.”

The words escaped before she had a chance to think about them. Saying them hollowed her out, made her feel empty.

She had always considered happiness a choice. It was about choosing the way she thought about events, even when life rose up again and again to knock her down. Now, she wasn't so sure.

“What about Garrett? Does he deserve to suffer too?”
The ghost let out a derisive snort.
“You two are perfect for each other. Punishing yourselves for imagined errors and perceived imperfections. I truly hope you work this out if only so you won't inflict yourself on other unfortunates who are blinded by your charms.”

“Excuse me?” Rachel practically shouted the words.

What the hell was this guy's deal? He said he wanted to help her, then insulted her? His voice had changed again too. He sounded younger.

Why was he so angry? It was her life that she was messing up. Well, Garrett's too, according to Misha. She didn't understand why he cared.

Unless…

Unless he wasn't who he said he was. A chill shot down her spine as she thought of Michael. But no—it couldn't be him. Who did that leave? Who might be lingering around one or both of them, mad about choices they were making?

Whoever this was, he seemed to really want them to be together and to believe that was best for them both. Especially for Garrett.

She thought back over what Misha had said, about Garrett having a brother. Garrett's brother had to have been gone for a long time for Rachel not to have heard of him. Young children didn't linger, but if his brother had been older than Garrett by several years…

His spirit might have stayed. He might have watched as Rachel flirted and flitted away, over and over again. He might have seen Garrett fall in deeper, loving Rachel, wanting to be with her. He might have seen how happy she made Garrett once upon a time.

He might be pissed as hell that she was planning to run away again.

“Misha, I don't think Garrett and I will work out in the long term.” She kept her voice as gentle as she could manage. “He deserves a woman who won't put him through so much.”

“He wants you.”

“That doesn't mean he should be with me. You've probably noticed how upset he's been since I came here. I want him to have a peaceful life. A chance at a normal family.”

Misha let out another snort. He sounded much younger now, even the cadence to his speech changing.
“There are no normal families.”

“There are always challenges, but if he can't love me as I am, I can't be with him.”

“You think you're so special that you're unlovable?”

Rachel was taken aback. She didn't know what Misha had been like when he was alive, but he sure was a jerk in the afterlife. And he wasn't done with her yet.

“All you have to do is say the word and Garrett would be yours. You're the one keeping the two of you apart. Don't lay this on him.”

“He can't keep up with me.”

“Then slow down!”

“It's not that simple.”

“Excuses. It's always excuses with you.”

Brother or not, Rachel was reaching her limit with this guy. “You don't know me.”

“Do you? Does anyone?”

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't think of a response. Of everyone on the planet, Garrett understood her best. If she couldn't make it work with him, she knew in her heart she would be alone for the rest of her life. Except for the ghosts.

A life filled with spirits seemed easy compared to a life without Garrett.

Misha had regained some of his composure when he spoke again. He still sounded different, but the anger was contained.

“All you have to do is tell him how you feel. That's all he needs. Please, at least try.”

Chapter Nineteen

Garrett didn't look up when Rachel walked into his bedroom. He sat at the foot of his bed, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. His eyes were burning. She could probably see how damp they were. He was past caring.

“Hi.” She hovered just inside the doorway.

He parroted back, “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

“You sure I'm the one you want to talk to?”

“I don't understand.”

“I heard you,” he whispered.

“Heard me what?”

He cleared his throat. “I came out to talk things through, but you weren't in the living room. I heard you talking to someone in your room. I'm guessing it was Misha.”

After a short pause she said, “Yes.”

He nodded, her confirmation hollowing him out.

“I made a salt barrier at the door,” she said. “He can't come in further than the guest room and bathroom.”

“Great.”

Like that made it okay.

Yet again, she had turned to someone else—let someone else in—while she kept Garrett at arm's length. She was moving away from him already. He wanted to follow after her, but he didn't think he had it in him anymore. At least he knew she'd be back next time something blew up.

Was that all he had to look forward to?

He felt the bed move as she knelt next to him. He could see from the corner of his eye.

Please, Lord, don't let her try to start anything again.

He wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened between them before he had the answers he needed. If she so much as touched him, he would probably leap across the room like he was snakebit.

His stomach churned as he remembered Dylan again.

“I'm in a difficult situation here,” she said. “And you are too. Because of me.”

“I knew what I was signing up for.”

Partly, anyway.

He knew she was going through a lot—it just turned out to be a different kind of hurting, from a source he would never have guessed. Being surrounded by ghosts… What she was dealing with was awful. He didn't mean to be putting more on her.

“But you didn't,” she said. “Not really. You thought you were helping out a friend who had been through a traumatic event. You didn't know you were getting all of this. I did.”

Her voice crackled for a moment, but she cleared her throat and went on in a strong tone.

“I knew how you felt. I knew you loved me. And I let you help me even though I knew it was hurting you. And I am so, so sorry for that. But I didn't do it to use you or lead you on. I did it because I couldn't stay away. I knew I was all wrong for you, but I just…wanted you so much. I hope you can forgive me. I know I never will.”

“Rachel—” He glanced up.

Looking at her was a mistake. When their gazes met, it was like being struck by lightning. His heart seemed to want to break out of his chest to get to her.

Whenever they were close he felt it—electric energy, pulsing just beneath his skin. Never this strong before, though. His entire body was charged and ready to do whatever she needed, wanting just a little more time with her any way he could get it.

The pull toward her was like gravity—or a black hole.

Her lips parted and she leaned toward him. She felt it too. He was sure of it. What he wasn't sure of was whether it was love or lust on her part. And the ever-present question with her remained—when would she run away again?

“You asked me to think,” she said. “But that's part of my problem. I think too much about some things, but not enough about others. I can be focused and calm or full of frenetic energy. I'm a person of extremes.”

She shook her head and leaned back on her heels. “I'm passionate. I feel everything deeply and I process things so fast. It can come out…intense. I know it can be off-putting. Even
I
want to run away from me sometimes. Maybe that's what I've been doing. Running away from everything.”

Garrett had never thought that Rachel might be exhausted by her own contradictions. “That doesn't seem like a good way to live.”

“It isn't. I don't want to live that way anymore. I don't want to run away from you, Garrett.”

His heartbeat instantly picked up. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears.

He tried to stay calm. She didn't want to run away. Okay. But what
did
she want? A casual fling? Or something more?

“I've never seen you yell or get as worked up with anyone else as you do with me,” she said. “I don't know that it's a good thing I bring that out of you.”

“I have a temper. That's not your doing.”

“I know. I'm trying to explain why I act this way with you.” She let out a breath and said, “Do you remember the night we met?”

“Of course. It was one of your mom's fundraisers.”

“I'm not talking about seeing each other across a room. I mean the first time we talked.”

He had seen her half a dozen times before they ever spoke. They had exchanged glances across rooms, even sometimes grinned and raised their eyebrows or nodded their heads, sharing a joke that no one else seemed to get.

But the first time they talked… That was something he would never forget. It had put his life on a different trajectory.

He cleared his throat and said, “Jazz had that Halloween party at the Orange Grove Inn.”

“And we both stepped outside to get some fresh air because there were too many people. You said you had already used up your quota for crowds with an event we both attended earlier that week. I told you I'd had my fill of crowds too. But it wasn't the kind you were thinking of. I couldn't tell you then, but I was freaking out from seeing so many people in costumes.”

It only took him a second to figure out the issue this time. Everybody had shown up as monsters. The room was full of people dressed as the dead. That night must have been an ordeal for her.

“Why did you go?”

“The idea was hers, but Jazz had me do all the planning. It was the first big event she let me handle on my own. I couldn't not show up. When you and I were talking, I kept thinking she might fire me for being gone so long, but I didn't want to go back inside. Not because I wanted to avoid the costumes but because I wanted more time with you. There was something about you. Even then, I could feel it.”

“It was probably the beer.”

She laughed, and the sound tugged at his chest.

He wanted to make her feel better. If jokes would work, great. But the more they talked—with her kneeling next to him on his bed—the more he wondered if it would be so bad to have a one-night stand. If that was what she needed…

“That was the first beer I ever drank from a bottle,” she said. “You had nabbed it from behind the bar and shared it with me. You've always shared whatever you had with me.”

It didn't feel like sharing. After that night, everything he had—everything he was—was hers.

“You talked to me and I felt calm,” she said. “Centered. I felt like I could finally let go of my socialite veneer, at least for a little while. I felt like I could be myself. We were out there for hours.”

She had a soft smile on her face. She laughed again as she went on. “When you first ran into me on the balcony, you offered to leave. You said I was there first and you didn't want to trouble me.”

Garrett nodded. “I remember.”

“And I asked you to stay. I'm always asking you to stay. I can't say I'll always be right at your side. That isn't who I am. I'm flighty and full of energy and movement and I need you to be okay with that. But I ask you to stay because I want to be with you.”

Yeah. He got that. She wanted to be with him on her terms. When, where, and how she wanted. He needed more.

“There are lots of ways to be with someone,” he said. “Different relationship dynamics. This is all really…nostalgic, but it doesn't let me know where I stand. I don't get why you can't just come out and say—”

“I love you.”

He blinked. He felt his eyelids close and open like shutters.

Love? His mouth went dry and his heart seemed to stop.

“Love means different things to different people…” he said.

She sighed and inched closer.

“I love how gentle you are and how passionate you can be. I love your intelligence and generosity. I love how you take care of everyone. I love how you can charm people without letting them past your guard. I love that you give me glimpses of who you really are and share sides of yourself with me that no one else gets to see.”

Was she talking about how she felt about him or the other way around? He had thought these same things about her more times than he could count.

She paused for a moment, then said, “I love that you let me get away with just enough that I feel free to take risks and be myself, but not so much that you don't let me know when I've crossed a line, like I did earlier.”

“Rachel—”

“I'm not finished.”

She inched closer, resting her hand on his thigh for balance. He remembered the softness of her skin and felt himself start to get hard again. This time, it didn't bother him.

“Your house is the only place that ever really felt like a home to me. I thought at first it was because it's out in the country and so it's more peaceful for a clairsentient. But it was because of you.”

She squeezed his thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He wanted to grab her and kiss her, to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But even more, he wanted to hear what she had to say. He wanted to understand her—who she was and what she was offering him.

“I loved going to bed in your house every night and waking up knowing that you were going to be the first person I would see. I loved cooking for you and laughing with you. And I wanted to stay so much that it terrified me. Because then, I didn't think I could do that to you. It felt like it would be a punishment, and you deserved better.”

“How could living with you ever be a punishment?”

“Because I'm weird and I see ghosts and I go off on tangents constantly and my mother is actually kind of evil and I say things without thinking them through, like that part about my mom.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You don't see me arguing the point.”

She smiled, shifting closer. He could lean forward and kiss her if he wanted, and he really wanted to. But damn, if he wasn't shaking inside. She was dangling everything he wanted right in front of him. If he reached for it, she might jerk it away.

Yeah, that killed the moment. He looked down, but she lifted her hands to his face and turned his head back toward her.

“You said you laid it all out for me before. Let me do the same now. What I want? I want you. Not just your truly exquisite body, but all of you. I want to see you every day. I want to go to sleep in this huge bed with you and wake up in your arms. I want—”

She locked her gaze with his, more serious than he'd ever seen her. Warmth flooded him from her hands on his face, her knees pressing against his thigh.

“I want the white-picket fence,” she said. “To be your wife—your partner. With three kids and a dog and two cats. I want to go to family cookouts with you and make jokes that only we get. I want you to bring me breakfast in bed on mother's day and to send the kids to a friend's house on father's day so I can give you better memories in that ugly recliner that I know you'll never let me get rid of.”

That one memory in his favorite chair was being painted in a whole new light with every word she said. She was still holding on to his face, as if she was the one afraid he was going to bolt for a change.

“What I want,” she whispered, leaning in so close that her breath warmed his lips. “Is you. Forever.”