| |
Eric forced the food down. What he wanted to do was pull Kelsey into his arms and kiss her until the decade they'd lost slipped from their memories.
And then what?
He could imagine what. He'd carry her up to his bedroom, and they'd go back to being the man and wife they'd once been, the man and wife he desperately wanted them to be again.
Which was why he was staring into the kitchen, forcing food down his throat. Not that frozen stir-fry would satisfy the hunger that was gnawing deeper than his stomach.
He squeezed his eyes closed, forced himself to focus.
Answers first. Until he had answers to his questions, there could be nothing else.
When his food was gone, when the dishes were put away and the pan cleaned, when he had no more excuses, he returned to the living room. Stoked the fire. Stared into the flames.
She was here. In his home. He'd always hoped, never believed, that he'd find her someday. That she'd come back to him. But she hadn't, not voluntarily. Something had brought her to Nutfield, but it was clear from the circumstances of her arrest that she'd never intended to find him, never intended to stay. Whatever her reason for being in New Hampshire, it obviously had nothing to do with him.
He should let her go. It wasn't like he could force her to stay. And he sure didn't want a woman who didn't want him.
But she did want him. He was sure of it. Well, maybe not sure. But her kiss, her touch, the way she looked at him... He thought she still loved him. He'd thought that before, though, hadn't he? And she'd left him, gone for a decade. If she left him again, he wouldn't wait around. He'd divorce her, move on with his life. If he were smart, he'd turn her loose right now and start proceedings. Be done with it. Be done with her.
Right. Like that was an option.
He'd been whipped since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, sitting on the grass in the quad. He'd heard her voice, her accent. Seen her long legs in those short shorts, those adorable flip-flops. Stared like a fool. And she'd just smiled and waved him over.
He'd sunk like a rock in the Charles River. Classes hadn't even started yet, and he was in love.
And now that he'd found her again, was he really thinking about letting her go? Not on his life. There was a story behind her disappearance, and he needed to know it, to know who was after her, and to figure out how to keep her safe. Until he got to the bottom of all that, until he ensured her safety, Kelsey Nolan wasn't going anywhere. If that meant he had to put her back behind bars, he wouldn't hesitate. Safer in jail than on the run. For now, he had to know what he was up against. And he wasn't going to hear the story staring at his fire. He had to face it head-on.
He turned to find her watching him.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Okay."
He sat in one of the side chairs, tried to prepare himself. Whatever she was about to tell him, it was going to hurt. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Her mouth formed a little O, like she was surprised by the suggestion. Had she really thought he wouldn't ask?
She recovered fast enough. "Why don't you tell me what you know?"
"Why? So you can gauge how little you can get away with sharing?"
He waited for the flash of quick anger he remembered, but it didn't come. Her gaze remained steady and unreadable. "I don't want to waste your time."
He settled back in the chair. "I've got nothing but time."
"Fine."
But she didn't speak.
He listened to the crackling fire while she stared at him, then turned away, then looked down. "I'm just not...I don't know if I can—"
"You promised."
"I know." She sighed, met his eyes. "Danielle ran away. I knew things were bad at home, but I didn't realize how bad."
"Bad in what way?"
She shook her head, looked at her hands. "My stepbrother, Peter. He..."
Eric waited through the long pause.
"He was a pig. He was just a couple years older than I was, and sometimes, he'd get fresh with me when he'd come to visit. I didn't put up with it. I told my mother, and she told my stepfather. I don't know what they said to Peter, but he backed off." She folded her hands, unfolded them, twisted them together. "I thought... I didn't realize after I left for college how often he came around. Danielle was young and sweet and more...pliable than I was."
Eric's dinner churned in his stomach. He'd met Danielle when the family had visited Kelsey at school. She was a sweet thing, a beautiful, innocent child. Even if she'd been ugly and horrible, she'd been a child. A child should feel safe in her own home. A child should be safe in her own home. "Your parents should have kept him away from her."
"I don't know that they ever understood. Peter and I were near the same age. They assumed his interest in me had been romantic. We weren't blood related, after all. But with my little sister... I never told them everything. When she was missing didn't seem the time. And then she died."
When she didn't continue, he said, "And then you faked your death."
"I never had the opportunity to tell them. And I wouldn't have, anyway. I'm sure Mama was broken enough."
Eric decided not to respond. Kelsey's mother had paid a steep price for her neglect.
Kelsey took a deep breath and looked back at him. "Danielle didn't tell me what was going on. She begged me to let her come live with me. She said she and Mama weren't getting along. Well, I know how Mama can be. She's all about keeping up appearances. Always seemed more important to her than us. I thought that's what was wrong. I didn't realize..."
He waited for her to go on. Finally, he said, "You couldn't have known, Kels."
She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe I was too wrapped up in school and in plans and...and in you to hear what my sister was saying."
"You were hundreds of miles away. Her own mother lived under the same roof and didn't know."
"My mother's not like yours, Eric. She wasn't focused on us, not ever. As long as we looked good and made excellent grades, she didn't care what else was going on in our lives. I always swore I'd be a better parent."
Kelsey's eyes filled with tears. The grief in her expression made his heart hurt. He stood, stepped toward her, but she waved him away. "If you want to hear the story, then you need to stay over there."
He took his seat.
"So Mama called me that night." Kelsey swiped away more tears, wouldn't look at him. "She'd bought me a ticket home, flying out of Boston, and begged me to come. Of course, she didn't know I wasn't in the city. That didn't seem the right time to tell her I'd eloped, and anyway, I had to help find my sister. You were sleeping peacefully, and I didn't want to wake you. I knew you'd want to come with me, but the tickets were expensive, and... Oh, it sounds stupid now. I thought I knew where she was. I thought I'd find her and be back by suppertime. I wrote you the note, took the rental car, and left."
He thought of the note he still carried in his pocket, written in a rush before she ran out the door. "That part I know."
"She wasn't where I thought she'd be. I found out she'd met a guy. Her friend told me an address Danielle had texted her. The police had already checked out the place. They said it was empty and promised they were following up on other leads. I was distraught. I couldn't leave. Not until I found her."
"Couldn't leave." Eric said. "Couldn't call, either, I guess. Couldn't let me know what was going on."
"You don't understand," she said. "This all happened that same day. I arrived in Savannah and went to her friend's house, where I was sure she was hiding. The friend gave me the address. I made a call, found out the police had already checked it out. I went to Mama's, saw the family, everybody sitting around, doing nothing. Mama was crying, and I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand not doing something. You have to understand, Eric. It was torture. She was thirteen."
His anger simmered. He was too familiar with the feeling Kelsey was describing. He'd felt it himself, when she'd disappeared. Maybe Kelsey hadn't been thirteen. But she had been his bride.
He nodded for her to continue.
"I went to the address myself," she said. "It was a little house outside of Savannah in the kind of neighborhood Mama'd drive across town to avoid. There was a for-rent sign in the yard. I knocked, but there was no answer. I waited. Then I walked around and found an open window. I climbed in. It was empty. No furniture. No food in the refrigerator or cabinets. I called out, hoping I'd hear a voice, but also, hoping I wouldn't. The place was creepy, because even though it was empty, it held the scent of sweat and cologne and I don't know what else. Like a crowd of people had just walked out." She shook her head, stared into the distance. "And then, a door banged open."
Eric's insides ran cold.
"I turned, and there was a man there. He looked young, like a teenager. But maybe it was the way he dressed, because the way he carried himself—I didn't think he was as young as he wanted to seem. I thought maybe this was the man who'd seduced my sister. I asked him where she was. He smiled, but it was a terrible smile. Like a cat that'd just cornered a mouse."
Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she continued. "He said, 'A twofer. My favorite.' And then he hit me. I woke up in the trunk of a car."
Eric clenched his fists, forced the shock and anger away until all he felt was horror. "Oh, Kels."
Her gaze was downward. Tears fell and plopped on her folded hands. He couldn't stand it any longer. He crossed the room, sat beside her on the sofa, and gathered her into his arms.
She wept against his shirt. He rubbed her back, failed to keep his own tears from falling. "It's okay. You're safe now."
She pushed against his chest, but he didn't let go.
"If you want to hear the rest..." Her voice was muffled against his shirt.
"It can wait," he said. "We're in no hurry. We have all the time in the world."
She sniffed, and in the barest whisper, said, "If only that were true."