Chapter Twenty One
Caitlin
“I’m done running,” I say.
He glances at me, his eyes serious.
“I can start over right here. It’s a half hour drive from my parents. Not too far, but far enough.” I see the corners of his lips twitch and can’t keep the smile off my face. I’d considered not talking about my parents because of what he’d shared with me, but I’d realized that that would upset him more. Acting like I don’t have parents because he doesn’t wouldn’t help anything.
He says nothing but pulls me into a tight hug. I cling to him, blinking back tears. This man has done so much for me. He means so much to me. The thought of him walking away aches down to my bones and squeezes the breath right out of my lungs.
“Stay with me,” I whisper.
“I can’t,” he growls.
“You can,” I counter. I’m giving him permission to stay. Heck, I’m telling him to stay. What more does he need?
He backs off a step and grabs both my arms just below my shoulders. His grip is gentle and reassuring as his serious eyes lock on mine. “I’m all wrong for you,” he says and I shake my head, focusing my gaze on a spot on the carpet across the room and refusing to look at him again.
But he’s not done. “You’ll find someone who can love you wholly and give you the life you deserve.”
“Shouldn’t that be my choice?” I ask, hating the tears crowding my eyes. They cling to my lashes, refusing to actually fall and that’s the only saving grace.
His eyes narrow a tiny bit. “Shouldn’t it be mine?” I feel his hands squeeze a little. “I’m not a good man. There’s always a chance that the brothers will stop on my doorstep and demand I do another job.”
I stiffen up.
He seems to jump on my reaction. “Yes. You know who I’m talking about. You know that any life with me would be dangerous and unpredictable. I could be pulled away at any time.” Or killed, if another leader muscled in and decided he knew too much.
“How did you get out?” I ask, curious.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t. I never will. Nobody ever gets out unless they’re in a body bag.”
“I’m not afraid,” I whisper.
His expression tightens. “You should be.”
And ice water runs through my veins. He was one of them. Which means he… did things. Evil, ugly things. But so did I. I’m not perfect, who the heck do I think I am expecting more of someone else than I can do myself?
Lowering my head, I stare at the floor. There’s no way I can convince him.
“Hey,” he says, that throaty growl sending heat screaming through me. “I got you an interview.”
“How did you know I’d stay here?” I ask.
The corners of his lips draw back a little, but it’s not quite a smile. “Lucky guess.” Something about the answer doesn’t sit right, but I shrug it off. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him. Or distrust him. I’m not about to start now. I’m in whole heartedly and there’s not a thing he could do to change that.
“What kind of job?” I ask, knowing I’m more than a little thin in the experience department. It hadn’t taken long for Carl to get me fired form a handful of jobs and I’d been on my way out when I’d finally quit the last one the day I’d decided to run.
“You’ve been through hell,” he says and I sit back on the bed in the hotel room. “That’s a terrible thing, but it might be a blessing too.” His eyes are locked on mine and I shiver. “You can advocate for other women going through domestic violence. The job will train you and even send you to school if you want. It will allow you to help people who can’t help themselves.”
It’s… perfect.
I open my mouth, wondering what to say next. And I say nothing.
“You’ve got an interview for ten am tomorrow. I did divulge some personal information, but very little.” There’s a grin toying with the corners of his lips and I just stare at him, feeling like an idiot.
It’s the perfect job. One I didn’t even know existed. Stunned, I just stare at him, seeing his eyes tick back and forth between mine, his serious expression returning. There’s even a little crease between his dark eyebrows. I know I need to say something, but nothing is coming out. I just… can’t. This might be the best news I’ve ever gotten… on the heels of the worst news I’ve ever gotten. I’ll have the perfect job… but he won’t be here to celebrate with me.
Sadness washes through me and I suck in a deep, pained breath. I see the worry in his eyes even as tears crowd my eyes again. He’s freaking perfect for me! Why can’t he see it? I blink, watching him study me carefully.
“Did I overstep?” he asks, his hands falling away from my shoulders and meeting before him in a deceptively casual stance.
Overstep?
“It’s… perfect,” I whisper, unable to even speak in a normal voice around the aching lump forming in my throat. The only way it could be more perfect is if he was staying with me. Stepping into his arms, I tilt my head back and pull him down. Our lips meet and I cling to him, basking in his warmth, loving the safety I feel in his arms, and doing my very best to commit every second with him to memory.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His arms circle me, his hands pressing flat to my back and gripping me tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let me go. And our lips touch again. The bittersweet sensations battle for control in me and I want to let them go and just enjoy this moment. Just enjoy him.