Chapter Sixteen

Shane

Fiona and I made love for hours that night. I decided at some point between the rounds that it was making love because it sure felt like a hell of a lot more than fucking.

We took our time exploring each other. We kissed tenderly and stared into each other’s eyes while our bodies rocked together. Instead of a scorching flash of heat, the passion between us smoldered low and slow, lasting longer and allowing us to draw the pleasure out. There was an intimacy to it that was deeper and more intense than any quick fuck.

We were both covered in a thin layer of sweat that shone in the moonlight filtering in through her bedroom window.

Fiona looked like an absolute fucking fantasy, naked and sated with tousled hair and lips that were slightly swollen from all our kissing. I drank in that moment, not knowing when, or even if, there would be another one like it.

I brushed my fingers through her hair and watched as she quietly contemplated something. Her brow suddenly furrowed slightly, and a tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows.

I braced myself for anything, from another round to being kicked out. I waited for her to talk. One of the things that I liked most about Fiona was that she was feisty. She kept me on my toes, always making me guess what was coming next.

When she rolled onto her side to peer up at me, there was no anger burning in her eyes, only curiosity. I had learned to read her expressions as best I could, and she still seemed relaxed, though I knew from personal experience how quickly that could change.

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?” she asked.

And there it was, the inevitable talk that I had been ready to have with her as soon as I’d heard her unlock the door earlier that night. Then I had seen the way that she was looking at me, and I instantly got hard, knowing that talking wasn’t the only thing on her mind.

After what we’d just done, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it anymore but it didn’t look like I had a fucking choice.

“Honestly? It was exactly like I told you earlier. I had no idea that your father’s company was one of the companies that my dad fucked over. When you told me, I felt like you dropped a bucket of ice water over my head, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to say.”

I couldn’t be more honest with her than that, so I added, “Swear to god and hope to die.”

“Stick a needle in your eye?” she added, a humorous twinkle in her eyes.

That was good. Humor I could handle. Loathing? Anger? No way. Not while we’re still naked in her bed.

“I’d prefer not to but I’ll stick a lance in my eye, if that’s what it takes to make you believe me,” I admitted.

“I do believe you. I even get it, kind of.” She chewed on her lower lip. “But I don’t get why you cared.”

“I didn’t think you’d give me a chance if you knew. Then things started happening, and it just never seemed like the right time to tell you.” I twisted a lock of her soft hair around my finger.

She nestled into my chest, leaning her head into my touch. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.” I sighed, wondering if the next question was going to be the one that was going to get me kicked out of bed. It was only a matter of time before I upset her again.

Fiona hesitated, then asked her question in a voice so low that I barely heard it. “Why are you going to Houston?”

“The company is falling apart. I need to go and save it.” I spared her the details of why it was falling apart.

“Are you coming back?” She raised her head to look me in the eye, waiting for my answer.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I admitted, unknowingly sealing my fate.

Fiona extracted herself from my body and bolted from the bed, taking her sheet with her. “Why did you come here tonight if you aren’t coming back?”

Her eyes flashed in anger, narrowed and accusatory. A blood red flush was rising from her chest to her cheeks.

A pang of regret hit me. Even as angry as a damned swarm of bees, she was goddamn beautiful. I inhaled a deep breath and willed myself to tell her the rest of the truth, regardless of how much I felt like a pussy for asking what I was about to.

“I wanted to see if there was any reason for me to come back. That’s why I’m not sure if I’m coming back. Is there any reason that I should?”

She tilted her head at me, the tiny crease between her eyebrows returning. “What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing for me here but you, Fiona. The only reason for me to come back is to be with you.” I had to actively force myself to keep breathing while I waited for her to respond.

A slow smile spread across her face, and her eyes lit up with affection. With that kind of reaction, I really shouldn’t have been holding my breath, but I was.

“I...” She paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t know, Shane. I don’t know what I want from you. I haven’t allowed myself to think about it too much, beyond, well, you know.”

“What a time to be shy.” I smirked, then encouraged her to continue, even though I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear her answer. “Do you think that there might be a reason for me to come back?”

“Your life is in Houston. Your company is based there. Would you ever consider staying in Mystic? Like, permanently?” She bit her lower lip again.

“I have to take care of the business, Fiona.” I sat up and reached for her hand but she stayed rooted to her spot, her hands firmly at her sides. “Besides, it would give you time to figure out what you want.”

Tears sprang to her eyes but she blinked them away quickly. It dawned on me that she perceived our conversation as a break-up conversation. For some idiotic reason, I didn’t correct her. I honestly didn’t know if that was what it was.

I rose from the bed and tugged my clothes back on. Fiona didn’t say a word. She just stood there, watching me get dressed, looking sexy as hell with her messy hair and the sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body.

Her features were scrunched into a wistful kind of look. It was clear that she thought that I wasn’t coming back. The truth was that I didn’t know if I would, either. And even if I did, I had no idea when that might be.

I got dressed slowly, letting the moment linger for as long as possible. Before, I had imposed my own exile from Houston to allow the dust to settle. I hadn’t had time for a vacation in years. Running the company took every minute of my time, and I had always preferred it that way. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Even so, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. I couldn’t very well leave my ship without its captain. It didn’t matter what I wanted, who I wanted, or where she lived.

I glanced up at Fiona as I tied my boots. She gazed down at me with a sad smile on her face. That look broke my heart, knowing I had put it there. But as much as I wanted to stay, the woman I wanted didn’t know if she wanted me or what she wanted from me. There was no way I could even think about risking my business over someone who was unsure about what she wanted. Regardless of how much I would miss my feisty, independent girl, it was time to leave.

Your girl, Perkins? I had no idea where that random thought had come from. A sardonic voice in my mind whispered, Keep dreaming, buddy, as I tied my shoes.

Fiona followed me quietly to the front door, wincing when I pulled her in for a hug. It made me wrap my arms tighter around her. I hated that she was hurting, and that I was the one hurting her. I was hurting myself, too, for that matter.

“Goodbye, Fiona. We’ll talk soon, okay?” I released her from my arms and turned to leave.

Stepping across Fiona’s threshold was the most difficult thing that I had ever done, which was a fucking feat, considering everything that I’d achieved in my life.

The closer I got to my truck, the more I could feel my heart ripping, trying to stay with her instead of going back to Houston with me.

Every fiber of my being ached to turn around, and to answer the pull that I still felt toward her. To envelop her in my arms and never let her go.

Instead, I hit the unlock button on my key fob and climbed into the rental truck, another stark and unnecessary reminder that Mystic wasn’t my life. I had a fleet of luxury cars in my garage in Houston, with a brand-new Bugatti Veyron that had arrived just a week before the explosion and was waiting for me to get home.

Yet I would have exchanged them all in an instant if it meant that the rental truck would be my real car, that Mystic would be my real life, and Fiona would be my real girl.

But the truck wasn’t mine. Neither was Fiona or Mystic. By the next day, they would all be nothing but a memory that wasn’t likely to be revisited, unless Fiona changed her mind.

With that depressing reality check, I allowed myself one last glance at Fiona, still watching me from her doorway before I got the fuck out of there, lest I gave in to my baser instincts.

The image of her standing there, though, silhouetted by the ambient light from her living room, was going to haunt me for the rest of my days. It was the punishment that I would have to live with for breaking her heart.

I got little to no sleep that night, rising from my bed in Mystic for the last time the next morning, feeling groggy and in a terrible mood.

Justin would send people to the house later that day to cover the furniture back up and to clear out the kitchen, so all I had to pack were my personal belongings. It took me all of five minutes to get my shit stashed in my bag after I took an ice-cold shower. Regrettably, it did nothing to improve my mood or the fog swirling around my sleep-deprived brain.

Eric had the jet ready and waiting by the time I arrived at the airstrip. A wide smile stretched across his face. “Happy to be taking you home, sir. Houston’s just not the same without you.”

I sighed, nodding at the usually stoic pilot. “Thanks, Eric. Let’s get the wheels up as soon as possible.”

Before I change my mind.

“You got it.” He shot me a thumbs up and followed me up the short flight of steps that the flight attendant raised as soon as we stepped foot onto the plush carpeting of the plane.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d last been encased by the luxurious metal tube, but, in reality, it had only been a few weeks. I shook my head, not able to wrap my head around everything that had happened while I’d been in Mystic.

In my heart of hearts, I knew that the man this very jet had carried to Mystic was not the same man it was preparing to carry back to Houston.

Once we were airborne, I leaned back in my seat and bid Mystic a final farewell from thirty thousand feet above it.