Chapter Nine

Holly opened her eyes slowly, feeling an intense pressure against her chest. It was hard to breathe. As her eyes focused on Quinn, who was sound asleep with Ella snoring on top of him, Holly knew the source of her pain. She tried to take a deep breath as she stared at the two of them. They looked like father and daughter—and maybe in another world, they could be. She could be a wife and a mother. But all of that entailed the promise of safety, of a happy ending. But Holly knew that no one could ever make her that promise. No one could tell her that everything would be okay, and that she and Quinn would grow old together. That Ella would grow up and be happy and healthy.

Everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours had been laced with the bittersweet warning against loving too deeply. She knew how this would end, even if Quinn didn’t. Which was why she needed to go back to Toronto.

Quinn’s eyes opened slowly, and Holly held her breath. Her heart constricted painfully as his hand immediately went to smooth Ella’s hair. And then his eyes landed on hers, filled with the emotion that she wanted to run from. He was the man that she could never forget—hard and strong, combined with that mix of tenderness that only he could pull off so well. He made her want to give up her solitary existence, abandon her career in Toronto. He made her want to believe that people stayed, that people lived, that love could conquer everything.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice deliciously low and smooth.

“Morning,” Holly answered, pulling the duvet up and tucking it under her chin.

“She slept through the rest of the night,” Quinn said over Ella’s gentle snoring.

Holly nodded. “She doesn’t even look like she has a fever anymore,” she whispered.

“Didn’t I tell you everything would be okay?”

Holly bit down on her tongue until it hurt.

“Holly?” Quinn said, frowning when she didn’t answer.

“You’re right.” She nodded.

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” he asked, reaching out to smooth her hair off her face.

Holly felt the sting of tears as she looked into his eyes. She was about to cry.

“You know what, why don’t I put Ella in her crib and then come back, okay?” he asked, carefully rising from the bed. He walked out of the room, not waiting for her reply. And before Holly had a chance to panic, he was back.

“She actually went to sleep?” Holly asked.

He nodded. “Poor thing is wiped,” he said, joining her in bed. “And I think you are, too.” He lifted her hand to his lips, his touch offering her safety, beckoning her honesty. Holly traced the hard line of his shoulder, his strength, his heat, reminding her that he was real, that Quinn was here.

“What are you so afraid of, Holly?”

“Everything,” she answered.

Quinn frowned slightly, shifting so that he propped himself on his elbow, his hand still locked with hers. “Tell me,” he said softly, but with enough force in his voice that Holly knew he wasn’t going to let it drop. She turned to him, not wanting to hide, wanting to confide in the man that had always made her feel safe.

“I can’t do this.”

“What?”

“This,” she whispered, waving her hands between them. “This pretend family thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretend,” he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. Holly fought the urge to pull away from him, to get out of the bed and put as much distance between them as possible.

“I’m not her mother. I can’t pretend to be.”

“Whoa,” he said harshly. “You are her mother now. What happened was horrible. But you are here and Ella is here—”

“I’m not a parent,” Holly said, clenching her hands into fists around the sheet.

“You are.”

She shook her head rapidly. “No. No. I’m not a mom. I will never be. I’m nothing like Jennifer,” she said, pausing to suck in some air. “I cut her. That first week, I had to clip Ella’s nails and I cut the skin,” she gushed, a hiccup escaping her lips. “Look what happened last night. I was useless. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know how to be a mom. What happens when she goes to school and it’s Mother’s Day and they make those little cards for their moms? What if she hates me, what if she tells me—”

“Did you hate your grandmother?”

Holly stared past him, looking at the fireplace. He didn’t get it. “Of course not.”

“And when you were in school and it was Mother’s Day, did you make a card for your grandmother instead?”

Holly nodded, feeling tears begin to tease the back of her eyes and deep in her throat.

“She’s going to love you. No, she already loves you, and one day when she’s old enough to understand, you’ll show her pictures of Jen and Rick, and you’ll tell her how much they loved her. But you are her family now. You’ve done everything for Ella. And she loves you. And when she’s old enough and you tell her about Jen and Rick, she’s still going to love you. You’re not Jen, you’re you. And she will always love you. Holly,” he said, looking into her eyes, “stay here. Stay here and give us a chance.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, shaking her head and trying to get up. His hand clamped down on her wrist just hard enough that she knew he meant business. His jaw was clenched and his eyes glittered. “Stop running away,” he said harshly.

Holly held his gaze, not backing down an inch. She was running. She knew she was. But it was her choice. She was the one who had to figure out how to survive. He couldn’t do it for her. She yanked her arm free of his grasp, the air cool on the skin that was once warmed by his touch.

“I can’t stay here. I have a job to get back to. I have a home in Toronto, a job, a life. This is not my house—”

“How can you believe that? Of course this is your house.”

Holly shook her head. “I already explained this to you. It was supposed to be Jen and Rick’s. They should be here, not me.”

Quinn just stared at her, his expression impassive. “You know this is what they’d want, don’t you? And you know this is what you want. This is your home, Holly. This is your town, filled with your friends. It’s where you belong.”

Holly looked away from the sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t know where my home is anymore, Quinn, and I don’t know what they would have wanted.”

“You do know. Deep down, under all that tough-woman front, you know that your sister would have wanted you to be around people who love you, and who could love their daughter. She would have wanted you to be in the house she thought was perfect for their little girl. She loved you, and she’d want you to be where you are loved.”

“Please stop,” Holly whispered, hating that he was bringing up thoughts that she tried so hard to keep at bay. “I can’t talk about this,” she said, sitting up. “Why do we have to talk about all this? Why can’t we just enjoy each other’s company?”

“Because I don’t just want to make love to you. I want you—for the long haul. I want you and Ella. I want you to stay here and marry me.”

Holly stopped breathing for the briefest of seconds. He couldn’t mean it. But the truth was in every line of his face, in the glint of his eyes.

The rain pattered soothingly against the windows, and the fireplace silently absorbed the dampness in the room. Holly didn’t move as Quinn sat up and took her hand, raising it to his lips, kissing it until her breath quickened. The sheet was bunched around his waist, his torso bare. She took in the strong lines, the bronzed skin of his muscled chest and shoulders, the lines of his biceps clearly defined when he reached out to cup her face.

“Marry me,” he said in a thick voice that made Holly’s eyes fill with tears.

Marry me. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as his words stopped everything inside her. Holly wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she was scared. A few years ago, she would have said yes. She would have let him in and taken that leap of faith. But now…now, if she stayed here, she’d fall so completely and totally in love with Quinn, and she’d have this fairy-tale idea of happily-ever-after. And when it shattered, she wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces of herself again. She’d done that too many times, and every time she did, she came back a little less whole.

Holly shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Nothing lasts, and I couldn’t recover—”

“Why wouldn’t we last?” he asked, reaching out to touch her cheekbone, his thumb grazing her skin. She wanted to fold herself into him and not think about any of this.

“Can’t we just spend the weekend together? I want to enjoy this, I want to enjoy us. Why do we have to talk about this now? Please, Quinn,” she said, and breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned forward to capture her lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

“I just asked you to marry me, even though I swore I’d never get married again. And now here I am putting myself out there, and you tell me let’s just enjoy ourselves?”

Holly’s eyes widened, and she tried her hardest not to cry.

“What happens when you leave?” she whispered.

Quinn frowned. “Leave?”

She nodded. “If things don’t work—”

“I don’t leave. I won’t leave. Things will work.”

“What about when something happens to you? I almost didn’t make it when Jen and Rick died. I wanted to shrivel up in a ball and stay there forever. But I couldn’t because I had Ella to take care of. But if I’m here, I’m going to grow closer and closer to you every day. And I’m going to start relying on you and depending on you. And loving you,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. “If something happened to you, Quinn, I wouldn’t survive.”

Quinn’s gut twisted painfully. Holly’s eyes were wide, weary, her face drawn. He fought the urge to reach out and hold her, to destroy whatever demons she was afraid of. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is going to happen to Ella,” he said forcefully, believing it with all he had. He needed her to believe it, too, before she ruined everything, before she shut him out.

“I have to go back,” she whispered, and he knew she meant Toronto.

Quinn swallowed the curse in his mouth. He knew she was making a mistake. But he also knew she needed to be the one to figure that out. He nodded slowly and reached out to cup her face in his hands. “You waited ten years for me, Holly. I’ll wait for you, for as long as it takes. I love you,” he whispered.

Holly shook her head, then squeezed her eyes shut and rested her forehead on his chest. And when her arms slipped around him, her hands climbing his back, her nails digging into his skin, he physically tried to absorb her pain. Her head dipped down to just below his collarbone and hovered for a moment before he felt her mouth on his skin. Her hair tickled his chest and she began a slow, torturous descent with her lips and tongue.

“Come here,” he implored, his hands firmly grasping her head, then her waist, lifting her on top of him, all his self control focused on filling her until she didn’t feel empty, until she knew that he could make her whole again.