Hours after Sullivan left, Clara tucked herself away in bed, but she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, feeling like she needed to hear what Sullivan had wanted to say before Maisie interrupted them. She considered calling. But that didn’t seem like enough. Instead, with Amelia keeping an eye on a sleeping Mason, Clara hopped in her car and hit the road. When she pulled into the long driveway leading to Sullivan’s apartment, the gravel crunched beneath her tires. She rolled to a stop off to the side of the weathered red building. The house to the right was bathed in darkness. Old man Bart, sound asleep.
Raw emotions led her feet as she exited the car and then headed up the steps of the barn. When she reached the worn old door, she froze, a million thoughts crossing her mind. The night lay still around her. I need to say more. I don’t hate you. I hate your father for what he did to us. I hate that you’re still carrying around all this pain after all these years. I hate that after all the love we had, we ended like we did. I want to forgive you. I want to move on. What did you want to tell me? She drew in a long, deep breath, hoping to hell she got this right, and then she knocked.
No response.
She knocked again, and when the door opened, Clara only just managed to stop her mouth from dropping open.
Sullivan’s brows went up. “Clara? What’s wrong?”
He opened the door wider, and a slow-building heat rolled over her. Sullivan had always been a good-looking guy, but now, he was pure man, with a body that looked cut from a fitness magazine. His hair was wet from an obvious shower, telling her he couldn’t sleep either, and a towel was wrapped around his wide bare shoulders. Her fingers tingled to reach out and touch him, and her breath became ragged as she let her gaze follow a path down his squared chest to his six-pack to that sexy V at his hips to his gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination as to what he had beneath them. And she really, really liked what he had. Scratch that, she suddenly really, really wanted what he had.
She swallowed deeply, and by the time she glanced back up, Sullivan’s eyes were hot and hungry.
A beat passed.
She could nearly taste the energy pinging between them. The heat burning. The want to make all that had gone so wrong better. “Sullivan—”
That’s all she managed before he had her in his arms, kicking the door shut behind them. She went willingly, forgetting what she’d wanted to hear. Because this was both an apology and an acknowledgment of them taking back all they had lost. His woodsy-scented shampoo infused the air when his mouth met hers, and she tumbled into everything the kiss promised. His kiss was familiar, and yet different, older, wiser, more patient and knowledgeable. Every slide of his tongue and deep, passionate press of his lips had her reaching for more.
When he finally broke the kiss, long minutes later, they were both breathless. He cupped her face, heady emotion dancing in his eyes. “I love kissing you, Clara. In fact, I want to kiss you until we forget why we shouldn’t be kissing, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“I won’t let you hurt me again,” she told him, dead serious. “I’m not that young girl who blindly loved you.” She slid her hands up his huge arms, feeling each muscle flex under her touch. “Your dad stole something from us. I want it back.”
Sullivan pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not staying in River Rock. When my suspension is over, I’m going home. This can’t last.”
She cupped his face now, bringing his tormented gaze back to her. For all the confusion and the worry of wondering what to say to him, now it became all too clear. “We were never meant to last, but we can choose how we end it this time. To take back what was stolen from us, and give ourselves what we should have had—a proper goodbye. To finally heal all that went wrong. Then we can finally put all this behind us and go on with our lives.”
He watched her closely, then all the hesitation faded from his eyes. Their lips met again as his agreement, and there was nothing soft about it. The kiss was rough and spoke of years of heartbreak. Years of pain they could never recover from. And this, this was their time to heal.
When he broke the kiss again, he spun her around, his strong chest to her back. She shivered, sliding her hands down his thighs as his kiss traveled over her neck. A soft moan spilled free when his hands working their way under her top. “You’re so beautiful, Clara.” His voice a low rumble in her ear, sliding his strong hand across her stomach. “Somehow even more beautiful now.”
She felt those words ripple across her. Felt his touch right down into her soul. Here, between them, there was unthinkable pain. Hard truths. But there had once been love, so much love. She twisted around and her mouth met his, and she kissed him, slow and easy. His woodsy aroma swirled around her as she became overwhelmed by him. His warm full lips were just as she remembered, like no time had passed. She kept wanting to pull back, to see reason, but the more she kissed him, the harder it became to pull away. Until all that lingered was need. It lived in the deepest parts of her heart that longed for his touch again.
Soon, he had her shirt off and unhooked her bra, revealing her breasts to him. He cupped her, kissed her, teased her nipples, sucking them up to the roof of his mouth, until all she knew was hot pleasure. She moaned against his touch imprinted on her skin. He was more confident now, more experienced, and she relished in his powerful embrace.
This time, when he leaned away, something on her stomach caught his eye. She followed his gaze then watched as he traced the three stretch marks on the side of her belly.
“From Mason?” he asked.
She nodded and couldn’t speak when she saw the sheer emotion in his eyes.
Not wanting to talk, only wanting to feel, her lips met his again, and his pants were soon gone. And then hers did too. Until they were bared to each other, except for the condom between them. He gathered her in his arms, laid her out on the bed, and slid her beneath him. She cupped his face, like she’d done the night he took her virginity. They’d both been nervous, unsure, and yet once together, everything made sense.
Hovering over her, resting his weight on one arm, he brushed his thumb against her cheek, the side of his mouth curving oh-so deliciously. “I used to dream of seeing you like this again.”
“Reality is better.” Emotion and pulsating desire consumed her as she slid her hand over the hard muscles of his butt cheek and wrapped her legs around his hips, guiding him inside her.
His low groan washed over her, and then he began moving. This time, when his mouth met hers, the kiss was different. All-consuming as he swept her away to a place where they’d once lived. A safe space full of trust and of possibilities. Each movement was slow but with the intent to tease and to offer pleasure. He thrust as if he meant for her to feel all of him, and she did—every single glorious inch, until her back was arching and her toes were curling. He tangled one hand into her hair. With the other, he pinned her hip to the blanket below. His eyes—oh, his eyes simmered with hunger.
“Sullivan,” she moaned.
He answered her with a low growl. His thrusts becoming harder, faster, as he grew harder insider her. They moved together, a steady rhythm, slapping skin against skin, his moans echoing hers. Until the pleasure became too much—so much, so good—taking her to the place only he’d ever taken her. Right over the edge, where she utterly let go. Only then did he follow her.
Sometime later, she found herself lying on her side, spooned by him. She wiggled back into him, catching her breath, and his arms tightened further around her.
A sweet, comfortable silence settled in. One Clara didn’t want to let go of. How many times had she wished and prayed that Sullivan would hold her like this again? For this one moment, she let her guards fall and allowed her young heart to relish in his safe hold.
Until he broke the silence. “What happened after I left?” he asked.
Reminded of the past, she processed his question, realized she’d heard him right, then flipped over to face him. His eyes were soft, curious, his hair damp with sweat. “Why are you asking that?”
His voice was sleepy, rough. “I want to know what you went through.”
Thinking that right now, for Mason and to finally heal, they needed only the truth between them, she indulged him. “It wasn’t pretty,” she told him honestly. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” he said, adamant.
It occurred to her that while she was doing her own type of healing to mend past hurts; he was too. Because she knew he needed it, she let herself go back into the past, to a day she’d thought she’d never recover from.
Clara pulled up to Sullivan’s childhood home. Tears flooded her face as she stood on the front yard, staring at the house that had once held so much love. Why did his mother have to die? Why couldn’t they cure cancer? Why did Sullivan have to leave?
Her feet moved, bringing her to the front door. Her knuckles knocked. Everything felt dream-like, slow and unbelievable. No way this could be her life.
The front door opened. Sullivan’s dad remained rooted in the doorway, his eyes bloodshot and his hair long and ragged. “Sullivan’s gone,” she heard herself saying. At Kurtis’ silence, she yelled, “He’s gone. Did you hear me? He left me because of you. He’s gone!”
Kurtis simply blinked.
Anger boiled inside her. She clenched her fists at her side. “Now you have nothing to say? You were so cruel to him, but now that he’s gone, you’re silent? How fucking dare you? Your wife would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”
“It’s good he’s gone,” Kurtis growled. “Don’t ever come back here.” He began to close the door.
That barely in-check rage burst wide open, and before Clara could stop herself, her clenched fist tightened, and using all her strength, she punched him, hearing a loud crack. Her knuckles crunched, and she screamed against the pain blasting through her fingers. Blood poured from Kurtis’ nose as she screamed at him, “I will never forgive you.”
Her cries faded from her ears as Sullivan asked, “You punched him?”
She blinked, realizing she’d told him everything without filters, and noted the tightness around his eyes. “I did, and I broke a couple fingers too.”
She held up her hand and showed him the two fingers. He examined them, running his thumb across the crooked parts before his gaze met hers again. “What happened after that?”
With a sigh, she tucked her hand between her cheek and the pillow. “I guess your neighbors saw, or had been watching, probably because they worried about me, and they ran over and pulled me away then called the cops.”
“Did the cops do anything?”
She shook her head. “They had to take me to the station for a report, but of course, they never pressed charges. For one, your dad didn’t want me charged, and Hayes’ father was totally on my side.”
Sullivan watched her for a long moment. His expression revealing nothing. He eventually asked, “What made you go to see him in the first place?’
“Honestly, there were a million reasons. I was so angry and hurt that you were gone, and at the time, I wanted him to know that. To know that it was all his fault you were gone. That your mother would have been so ashamed of him. That I was ashamed of him.” She hesitated, trying to put into words what had been an emotional mess at the time. “I wanted him to feel accountable, I guess, but things changed after that day.”
“Why?”
Warmth filled her chest, and she smiled, hoping Sullivan saw all of her happiness. “Because I found out I was pregnant with Mason. It’s weird, you know, but the timing of all of it was crazy. The day before I found out, I booked a plane ticket to come out to see you. I thought if you could just see me, then we could make it work.”
His brows rose. “You came out to Boston?”
“No, I never made it, because the night before my flight, Amelia convinced me to take a pregnancy test, and it came back positive. Everything changed in an instant.” She paused, holding his gaze, knowing what she was about to say would hurt. “Because someone mattered more than you.”
“Mason,” he said gently.
She nodded. “Mason. So, I decided to call you once more to let you know about the pregnancy.”
“But a woman answered.”
“She sure did,” she agreed, her heart lodged into her throat. “That’s when I knew I needed to accept that you were never coming back for me. I decided then to let you go and let you live out your dream in Boston. You deserved that happiness, and I had Mason.” A thousand emotions flashed over his face as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. One minute ticked by then another. She couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”
A beat passed then he turned his head, the side of his mouth curving slightly. “I’m thinking that I’m annoyed.”
“Annoyed?”
He chuckled, shaking his head slowly, then gathered her in his arms until he hovered above her. “Yes, Slugger, annoyed that you punched my bastard father in the face and I didn’t get the chance to see it.” She laughed, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head before making direct eye contact again. “I’m sorry, Clara. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for being a coward and not taking your calls seven years ago. I’m sorry for the anger you endured after I left and for how lonely and scared you must have felt. Most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and Mason.”
She cupped his face, hoping he heard her. “Honestly, Sullivan, I’m done with apologies and regrets. The past is the past. You’re here now. Let’s make this good for Mason and move on from the rest.”
He whispered against her lips, “One day at a time.”
“One day at a time.” Then she claimed his mouth.