Sage was still awake, staring up at the ceiling of the cottage, when she heard the crunch of tires. Two sets?
The fact that there was more than one car sent her heart careening up into her throat. She jackknifed into a sitting position and remained frozen for long moments, watching headlights cut through the thin wrapping paper over the windows. Oh God. Who was it? Augie? Maybe some of his men? She’d been so sure no one knew about this place—even her parents—but there was every possibility they’d discovered it while she’d been gone. After the scene that day at the mine, she expected her boss to be livid, but she was safe here. Or so she’d thought.
Sage’s legs trembled as she turned on the mattress and reached for her coat. Slowly, as if her movements might alert them to her presence inside—she dragged the garment around her shoulders and buttoned it to her chin. Her cell phone was off inside her suitcase, but she needed to call Belmont. Her throat constricted at how fast she’d defaulted to relying on him. Her fingers hesitated around the handle of her suitcase. Could she deal with whatever and whoever had come for her alone?
Before she could make up her mind, the singing started.
It was eerie at first. She swore it was one of the cars’ stereos blasting “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Maybe to unnerve her? After she’d had the worst-case scenarios trample over her common sense, it was Belmont’s voice calling her name through the door that caused Sage’s pulse to slow down to a normal pace. Well. As normal as it could ever be with Belmont close.
Confusion having swapped places with fear, Sage crossed to the door and opened it. The elevated landing put her at eye level with Belmont. There he is, her blood seemed to whisper. The pull between them was so intense, she had to focus on staying still, instead of leaping toward Belmont where she knew he would hold her off the ground. His eyes were shadowed, his hair being torn at by the wind, coat whipping around his unmoving figure. Having him right there, so solid and vigilant in the darkness with so little warning, robbed her of speech. “What…”
“Sage.”
Behind him, a choir was captured in the glow of the Suburban’s headlights, the eight members singing their hearts out. The music was nothing short of beautiful. If God himself had descended with a host of angels at his side, she wouldn’t have been surprised, because surely they were calling right to him with their heartfelt harmonies and smiling faces.
She didn’t realize all ten of her fingers were pressed to her mouth until Belmont’s warm hands closed over her own and drew them away. “What did you do, Belmont?”
He was staring at her fingers, white puffs of his breath coasting off them, between them. “They were singing in town and I wanted you to hear them.”
“So you just brought them here?” His touch was making her stomach flip, with warning, with lust. “That was pretty trusting of them to follow a stranger into the woods.”
“I told them no one would appreciate their singing more than you.” The corner of his mouth edged up. “They drew the line at riding with me, though.”
Her laughter was mixed with an exhale. “You were right about my appreciating them. Nothing has ever sounded better.”
The relief in his expression was brief. “I’m sorry about how I left earlier. I’m sorry about how I always leave.”
Sage pressed her lips together, because it was too tempting to tell him that behavior was okay. To pretend that giving every ounce of herself over to him—and then watching him flee with it like a thief—didn’t hurt. It did. It was painful every time, whether it was just an embrace or they were bordering on intimate. With the latter, there was more than pain; there was punctured feminine pride, self-doubt, and a bruised heart.
“Why do you do it?” she whispered, just as the carolers started in on a new song, “Away in a Manger.” “If you know you’ll be sorry afterwards, why leave like I’m…burning you?”
“You stop me from burning.” He choked on the words, like they’d been stored up inside of him forever. “At first. At first you do. But after I’m calm, after you bring me back down to earth with your smell, the way you touch me and whisper to me…I do burn. I burn so hot, I’m afraid I’ll eat you alive.”
Sage sucked in a gasp, fireworks going off on the backs of her eyelids. Belmont looked almost pained at having revealed so much truth. But he didn’t take it back. He didn’t walk away, either. Truth. He was giving her honesty and she would do the same. “And now, after what we did in the shower, you think m-maybe I wouldn’t mind being eaten alive?”
His fingers flexed at his sides. “I’d die before making that assumption.”
“I did,” Sage said quietly. “All those times, I wanted you to eat me alive.” His breath started to come so fast, it formed a dense white cloud around his face. “But it’s wrapped up in how easy it is to let you numb me to everything else. Everything but you. When you held me during the trip, Belmont, you weren’t the only one who needed it. Not by a damn sight. I was coming back here and I was scared. We were using each other.”
He turned his vibrating body toward Sage, blocking the wind, tension rolling off him like smoke. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here.”
“No, I need to be scared. The fear is mine to own. I earned it.”
“No.” Outrage bathed his expression. “No, you could never—”
“Yes, Belmont.” She searched for the words to make him understand. “You would have eaten me alive, if we’d gotten that far. I would have disappeared into you. Us. Maybe you would have disappeared into me, too. But I can’t forget who I am on my own. I can’t lose myself.” Her throat burned. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not your perfect Sage. I get angry. I make mistakes. I made one that brought me back here. Don’t take my failings away from me.”
“Tell me. Everything.”
She wanted to lay every card on the table, but couldn’t risk him trying to reshuffle the deck. Couldn’t risk him trying to ease her guilt, when she needed to hold on to it. “It’s Christmas.” Her swallow hurt on the way down. “Can we just listen to the carolers?”
Frustration lingered in his expressive eyes, but he unblocked her view of the singers, his shoulder an inch away from touching her. “If you’re not my perfect Sage, let me learn you. Prove it. So I can prove to you I’m not going anywhere.”
Sage couldn’t answer. What would she say? No? Already she’d hurt this incredible man. Disappointing him caused her pain, too. If she said yes, though, she’d be an open book to him. Let me learn you. Would he still want a less than perfect version of her? “I don’t know just now.”
His nod was stilted.
“Merry Christmas, Belmont.”
Long moments passed while they listened to the song finish. When it was over and the carolers started the next, Belmont turned toward her again. “Merry Christmas, sweetest girl.” His brow knit together as he scrutinized her mouth. “After what you said, after me leaving, I know I’ve forfeited my right. But I have a need to kiss you. The way I should have done earlier.”
Oh boy. Ohhhh boy. Despite the touching they’d done earlier, he hadn’t kissed her. Not once. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t even been facing the right direction, had she? Their mouths hadn’t actually met since the train platform. Despite a wave of trepidation over being vulnerable to this man who could consume her so easily, she couldn’t stop the excitement from opening up like a thousand umbrellas in her bloodstream. But, no. No. Kissing Belmont would set her back, same way it had done when she’d boarded the train and watched him walk away, dragging her resolve to be independent along behind him.
“I would say yes if I thought it could just be a kiss.” Moving on its own, her traitorous tongue slipped out to wet her lips and his eyes turned to liquid at the movement. “But nothing is ever that simple with you and me.”
“I understand,” he rasped. Clearly troubled, he started to back away. Cold air rushed between them and she panicked. Her knees started to shake and it hit her. She’d quit Belmont cold turkey and her body was reeling at the lack of him. Words flew out of her mouth, tumbling over one another. “But I—I do kind of owe you, since you bought me that lovely clock for Christmas and I didn’t get you a thing.”
Based on the dramatic uptick of his gaze, it had been the wrong thing to say. Was there a right thing to say here? “Ah, Sage. You’ll never owe me anything. Not even if I buy you a present every day for fifty years.” The furrow of his brow deepened. “That’s not a bad idea.”
That did it. His seriousness about giving her a gift every day for fifty years crumbled her resolve. Just a kiss. Just one? It’s Christmas. She could forgive herself for behaving like a woman who’d been surprised by carolers and asked politely for a kiss, couldn’t she? From a man with a heart so big, he could barely operate around the size of it? Taking a deep breath for the courage to stop after one, Sage grabbed Belmont by the lapels of his jacket, drew him close, and molded their lips together.
He made this sound—mmmhh—and followed it with a groan so long and deep, she got lost in the never-ending vibration of it. His salty ocean eternity scent clashed with the forest, his texture, the heat of his body, exploding her senses. She’d barely processed that her feet had left the landing before they were dangling in midair, Belmont’s forearm slung beneath her bottom, the opposite arm wrapped around her back. So tight, like he’d never expected to hold her again. And it was holding, the hallmark of their dependency on each other. Which would have alarmed her if there weren’t a million more things demanding her attention.
Unlike the morning they’d kissed on the platform, he wasn’t clean-shaven. Felt like his chin and cheeks hadn’t even seen a razor since that first time their mouths had met. Those rough whiskers rasped on her face now and she nuzzled closer, harder, wanting him to leave burn marks on her skin. Was that crazy? She didn’t know. It felt right. It felt as if Belmont heartily approved of the decision because he slanted his mouth on hers all the harder, licking against her tongue, crushing her to his big chest.
Around them, the music seemed to get bigger, swallowing them whole. It rang in her ears and inside her heart, the only other audible sound her rioting pulse. Her sole problem in that moment was not being able to open her mouth wide enough to satisfy Belmont’s appetite, which seemed to grow stronger with every stroke of lips and tongue.
The thick ridge forever straining behind his fly grazed her stomach—and just like that, she was standing back in the doorway, Belmont’s giant hands on her hips to steady her. His cheekbones were stained with color, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in breath after breath. “I was so sick over putting you on the train last time, I didn’t get enough of the way you taste.”
“Oh,” Sage breathed. “And?”
He had to think about it. Not the sentiment, but the right words. She could see him weighing and measuring them behind the incredible blue of his eyes. “And I’m going to do everything I can…” His hand left her waist, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. “To make sure you never make me go a day without it.”
The moment cut itself out of time. Everything else was before or after. Belmont, white plumes of breath wreathing his gorgeous face, carolers belting about joy behind him, twinkles of snow beginning to fall. And there she stood in her coat, watching it all from above, like an out-of-body experience. He was making a vow—and when Belmont made a vow, it became fact, surely as if it were etched in stone and read to the masses.
She’d made her own vow, though. To herself. Her parents. The devil. The sentiment paused on her lips, though, when his fingers slipped into her hair and cradled the back of her head, his thumb massaging her scalp. “Where can I find you in the morning?”
“Uh…” She worked for a deep breath. “I’m going to clean my parents’ house. Make sure they’re okay for food and everything.”
That thumb had stopped moving. “Then I’ll be there, too.”
Sage knew there was no point in arguing. Her battles would have to be chosen very carefully going forward. They had the weekend in front of them, clear of the underground hell that lay at their feet like a trap, but it would loom closer soon enough. Two days. And then they would stop pretending that he hadn’t vowed to face his greatest fear to keep her safe. And how she would do anything in her power to prevent it.
“Good night, Belmont.”
He nodded once. “I’m going to sleep out here in the backseat.” His gaze cut to the side. “I won’t rest knowing you’re out here alone.”
You can stay in here with me.
Don’t. Don’t say it. He’d hurt her and swept her off her feet, all in the space of a couple hours. If she started giving in to her impulses, she would be right back at the beginning of the road trip, letting him overwhelm her at every turn. So instead of inviting him inside, she took the extra blanket off the nearby shelf and handed it to him.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
As she closed the door, there was something new in Belmont’s expression she’d only seen in glimpses, but never in a prolonged way.
Hunger. It kept her awake until the dawn light began to break.
* * *
When Belmont woke up the following morning, Sage had already gone up to her parents’ house. His later than usual rise might have had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept since passing out in the motel room, almost three days prior. Last night, after sending Sage back into the cottage and positioning himself in the Suburban to have a perfect view of the door, blackness had claimed him so fast and hard, his head ached this morning from the impact of unconsciousness.
Lord knew Sage was an early bird, too. Every morning of the road trip, she would set out on a quest for coffee, whether it was at a motel, a hotel, or a cabin. He would follow. Most of the time, they didn’t exchange words during the process of Sage ordering and doctoring her coffee. Removing the lid to blow steam off the surface through pursed, soft-looking lips. Something about that lack of pressure between them at the break of day tended to dissipate toward the end of her first cup, though, and they’d be back to…tense.
Her shoulders would creep closer to her eyes the nearer Belmont came, and she would begin sending him looks from beneath her lashes. He knew those glances like the back of his hand. Does he need me? Will he soon? When will it happen?
It being his inevitable need to have Sage plastered against him, anchoring him, reminding him with murmured words that change happened all the time and it wouldn’t split him down the center. That he couldn’t control the universe or his family or the outcome of a situation.
Apparently he’d been blind, though. Because all that time, she’d craved their contact, too.
When you held me during the trip, Belmont, you weren’t the only one who needed it.
His growl shattered the silent atmosphere of the car. When she’d made the confession last night, it had taken every drop of his willpower not to pounce. Knowing she hadn’t simply been tolerating him…but benefiting? Loving his arms around her? Refraining from touching her would be a lesson in torture from this point forward. But he would not—would not—allow them to use each other. They were more than that. Strong and real and good. As Belmont trod through the woods behind Sage’s parents’ house, he recalled the first time he’d held Sage. It was a memory he hadn’t pulled up in a while, because he’d stacked so many more fresh ones of her on top of it. That moment before the wedding rehearsal, after she’d straightened his tie, laid her hands on his lapels, and stepped back, he’d frozen up. Cold had started in his hands and moved higher until his jaw locked, teeth grinding. He was preparing to be the focus of a large group of people, to make a speech and dance. But it was the change, too, that got to him. The letting go of his little sister and standing aside as she went about a new life. He’d been happy for her, but the very idea of the future unfolding and being left up to chance stabbed him between the shoulder blades.
They’d stared at each other—him and Sage—for what seemed like hours, in the back room of that church. Until slowly, so slowly, she’d reached out and took his hand. And like a drowning man being thrown a life preserver, he’d hauled her forward. She’d been stiff as a board at first, but she’d gone more and more slack with each passing second, her head lolling to one side, giving Belmont a place to bury his face.
“Thank you,” he’d said, astounded to find his pulse returning to normal. “Thank you, Miss Alexander.”
“Please. It’s Sage,” she’d responded, lighter than a feather. “And…any time, Mr.—”
“Belmont.”
They’d both sighed.
He could still hear it now as he stopped at the bottom of the house’s stoop. Any time. Someone else might have heard those words and recognized them as a pleasantry. Not him. He’d taken them literally, hadn’t he?
I’m not your perfect Sage. I get angry. I make mistakes.
The words she’d thrown out last night echoed in his ears like a resounding gong. He’d always known there was more to her—more she kept hidden under the surface—but as someone who hid their past like an ugly secret, he’d kept himself from pressing. Did she think he wouldn’t like what was revealed? Jesus, what he wouldn’t do to put that fear to rest. Now. Today. But his knee-jerk reaction was to sweep her up and make those promises into her hair. Make her feel his dedication by forcing their heartbeats into close quarters. Sage needed more, though. Needed different. So he’d give it to her. He always would.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Belmont climbed the stairs, finding the door ajar by an inch. He pushed it open with a slow hand, not wanting to startle anyone inside. The scent of lemon cleaner found his nose, Sage’s hum filling his ears. For a while, all he could do was lean against the doorjamb and watch her move. Urgency built in his chest, demanding he go help and ease her load, but it was fighting against the way she paralyzed him. So beautiful.
Her hair was on the very top of her head in a ponytail. He’d never seen it like that before. It sprouted in all different directions, like a fistful of flowers picked from the garden. She was wearing his shirt again, the one with Clarkson Salvage over the pocket.
Pride filled his lungs. If she only knew what it did to him, seeing that logo on her chest. How many hours had he spent becoming an expert at his trade, the drive to be her provider flowing in his bloodstream? Thousands? It was worth every minute of work just to see her in the shirt. The neck was so wide on Sage’s petite figure, her shifting collarbone was on full display as she scrubbed the kitchen island. Which inevitably drew his eye lower to the sway of her breasts.
A week ago, he would have turned faster than a finger snap and descended the stairs in one giant lunge, needing to get away before the lust had a chance to take hold. But everything was…changing now. And like all change, it made him nervous, because there was a chance he could ruin the tenuous bond between them and not be able to revert back, if things went wrong. If he did things wrong. His body, however, his heart and hands and eyes, were eager. So eager. They had kissed twice now. His fingers had rubbed the slick female flesh he’d never expected to touch. What would happen now? What came next?
Belmont wished he hadn’t worn the black sweatpants now. He’d thought them appropriate for cleaning, but there was nothing appropriate about the way they…clung. To him. And his predicament wouldn’t get any better with Sage around. Experience told him that.
“Oh.” Sage jumped backward, dropping the sponge in her hand. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Good morning,” he said under his breath, striding into the kitchen and gauging Sage’s progress, judging she’d been working alone for about half an hour. “Sorry to startle you. I couldn’t think of a way to get your attention without…” He nodded at the discarded sponge.
She plucked at the edge of her yellow elbow-high gloves. “Maybe a bird call next time?”
The corner of Belmont’s mouth lifted. “What would that sound like?”
Pink bled into her cheeks, but she puckered her lips as if to whistle, then executed a light, trilling chirp. “There. Just like that.”
Compelled by something heavy down deep in his stomach, Belmont started moving to the left, one slow step at a time, around the kitchen island in Sage’s direction. “I didn’t know you could make sounds like that.”
“There was a bird that used to nest on my bedroom window. Growing up.” He watched her start to fidget the closer he came, knew he should stop and give her some space, but they were inside this house. This house in which she’d grown up and been unhappy. It was there in the stiffness of her back how difficult it was to stand inside the four crumbling walls, and he could no more stop himself from easing her than he could pause time. “They don’t have the same species in San Diego, as far as I know,” she said in a rush. “Or if it’s there, I’ve never heard it singing.”
“Do you miss it?”
“The bird?”
Belmont shook his head. “San Diego.”
Sage didn’t answer. The sudden stubborn set of her chin told him she wouldn’t be, either. As the lower half of her body came into view, he dug his nails into his palms, hard enough to leave marks. She was wearing shorts. Ones that stopped just south of her bottom. The feel of her pressed against his lap while he pushed her, thrust her, into the shower wall stirred and thickened his cock. The shorts highlighted more than just her backside, though. They revealed Sage’s legs. Legs that made him a little…insane.
They weren’t as pale as they should be. As far as he knew, she didn’t spend a lot of time at the beach. He’d made enough subtle inquiries to Sage and Peggy to know Sage worked indoors, and most of her time was spent in an office or catering halls or churches. If she’d been spending a lot of time near the ocean, he wouldn’t have been able to relax, wondering if she was wearing enough sunscreen or if she was a strong swimmer. So without the outdoors, why were her legs so tan? It was a question that had burned in his belly for months, ever since he’d caught a glimpse of her thighs as she climbed into the passenger side of Peggy’s Volkswagen Bug. Long before the road trip. And he’d only grown more curious when she’d worn those shoes with the buckle, back in Iowa. Lord, that sleek flex of her calves…
His abdomen knit tighter than a drum, Belmont paused a foot away and planted one hand on the counter, making sure she saw it. “Tell me what you miss about San Diego.”
Sage picked up the sponge and started scrubbing again. “The people.”
“Why?”
“None of them knew who I’d been before.”
There was a whole wealth of Louisiana packed into those words, and Belmont could see it had been deliberate. He’d caught touches of the South in her phrasing and cadence before, but never so much or all at once. Knowing she’d been holding such a vital part of herself back was like a fishing pole reeling his heart out through his mouth. “I want to know who you were before. It’s still a part of who you are now.”
Her nod was jerky. “Maybe. People seldom change so much they’re unrecognizable.” She rolled her lips inward. “I miss my apartment.”
“I was never inside of it,” he said, kicking himself for stating the obvious. “What did it look like?”
A fond expression lit up her features. “The bathroom was a robin’s egg blue. The tiles, the sink, everything. The real estate agent apologized for it being ugly, but I used to love taking baths in there.” They traded a look that punched Belmont in the gut. Sage in the bathtub, covered in bubbles. God have mercy. “It was mine. I didn’t care if it was old.”
“You’ll go back there someday soon. I’ll make sure you get the same apartment.”
“No, Belmont.” He watched as she gulped in breaths, clearly attempting to keep her cool. He wished she wouldn’t. How many times had he done the opposite around her? “The jig is up. I’m not a wedding planner. I was just a fraud pretending to be one. Pretending this place doesn’t exist. But it does. I thought maybe I was capable of forgetting how much my parents need me, leaving it all behind, but I’m not.” Her accent was honey-thick, denser than he’d ever heard it. “My leaving made things worse for my parents. Harder. And they’re never going to get better.” She paused in her scrubbing, then went at it again. “I can’t go wear pretty dresses in the sunshine and act like everything is dandy. I took that man’s money so I could afford to leave and it hurt them. I let myself down by forgetting my responsibilities. So this is where I’m staying. Until they don’t need me anymore.”
In other words, forever. Acid singed his windpipe, the ground seeming to rise up, up to knee level. This is where he didn’t do well. Sensing change on the horizon. But this was so much more than change. This was the loss of Sage. This was potential Armageddon. And that meant he needed to pull his shit together and blow the winds of change in another direction. Some unfamiliar insight told him pushing Sage right now wasn’t the wisest course of action, though. She didn’t need to be cornered or reasoned with. She needed a friend. The new knowledge that his touch made her feel healed made the pull in her direction even more intense. Almost unbearable to deny. But he would. He would.
“I understand feeling responsible for family, even when the bond seems like it’s fading. Or was never there to begin with. One day you wake up and realize…you were just ignoring the bond. That you let it weaken.”
“Are you talking about your brother?”
“Yes.” Aaron’s smirk appeared in his head, just for a second, before dimming. “We were best friends when we were younger, but I locked him out after.” After. He didn’t have to explain. The sympathy that danced across her features meant she knew he was referring to him being trapped in the well. “When I tried to…make progress with him in Iowa, I felt like a fraud, too. Maybe we all do sometimes. For different reasons. But I’ve seen the weddings you planned, Sage. You’re the furthest damn thing from a fraud I know.”
Her smile was tight, telling him she wasn’t ready to accept what he knew to be true. “How have you seen the weddings? None of your sister’s ever took place.”
The back of his neck turned hot. “When Peggy asked me to walk her down the aisle, she came with me to get fitted for a tuxedo. You know how she talks and gets excited.” He couldn’t help a small smile, thinking about his youngest sister. “I hadn’t even met you yet, but when she showed me the pictures of what you’d done, I could see you cared. All those details. Not a single thing overlooked or rushed. All real. You’re real.”
Belmont took a step closer to Sage and her entire body locked up on a gasp, her eyes closing, hands ceasing their scrubbing. Belmont froze, too. She wanted to be held, but he couldn’t give in. Not if it meant they’d be using each other. They had to find sturdier ground first. So he went with his intended goal of retrieving one of the sponges stacked on the other side of the island, bringing it back toward himself without so much as grazing her body. Her breasts.
Under his shirt.
They both slipped back into motion slowly at first, cleaning side by side, and picking up speed. Sage seemed deep in thought, but Belmont couldn’t settle his mind on anything but her. Having her close. When he finally spoke again, his voice was far deeper than when he’d walked into the kitchen. “What do you miss about this place?”
The smile she sent him was mild, but brave. “Nothing, really. I didn’t do a lot of…experiencing when I lived here.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I mostly stayed at home or down in the cottage, if I wasn’t at school.”
Belmont took an empty bucket out from beneath the sink and began to fill it with warm water. “School activities weren’t my thing, either.” He couldn’t help but feel silly making small talk with Sage, this woman who was the center of his galaxy, when he wanted to be across the kitchen absorbing eye contact from her, whispering nonsense against her neck. But this was normal. She needed normal. And no one else would be giving it to her, save him. “I used to drive Peggy to cheerleading practice and pick Rita up from detention, but I don’t think that counts.” Sage looked sad at the mention of Peggy, so he pushed on. “What about school dances? Did you—”
His own frown cut him off. Why was he asking her that? He didn’t want to know if she’d spent any amount of time with some kid’s sweaty hands on her. So when Sage answered in the negative, he was simultaneously relieved and upset on her behalf. But it gave him an idea.
“Will you show me the school later?” He braced himself for her to say no. “I want to see where you grew up. I want to see all the places you spent time.”
She didn’t look up, but a line formed between her brows. “Why, Belmont?”
“Because every minute of your life has been important,” he said simply, hoping she understood. I want to learn you. “Every minute was important to me, even though I wasn’t there. I’m here now and I want to see.”
Finally, hazel eyes turned on him, so deep and inviting, he would have drowned in them if she gave him the slightest encouragement. He swore she was getting ready to tell him she didn’t want to share her past with him. He was braced and ready for it. So his lungs almost exploded with fresh oxygen when she said, “You want to see my room?” instead.