Chapter Seven

It’s complicated.

Seth closed the boathouse door and turned the knob to lock it. For the rest of his life, he had to be that better man. He’d follow Devereaux at a safe distance and he’d give her space, but he wasn’t letting her go it alone, not at this time of night. He’d make sure she got home safe and then? He’d head for Uncle George’s island. George moored a boat somewhere close by. Seth just had to find it. Along with his pride.

He’d hurt Devereaux’s feelings without meaning to, but she’d given him no chance to explain. He wasn’t a cheater, at least not in the typical sense. If anything, he was loyal to a ridiculous fault. Fact was that his heart hurt, both for the woman he could never hold again and for the one he’d let get away. For Katelynn and for Devereaux. What kind of two-timing loser was he?

Devereaux was right to be angry. In a way, he was a cheater, yet he wasn’t at the same time. For years he’d idolized his fiancée. Put Katelynn on a pedestal. That was just the way he was made. A one-woman man to his core, he’d been ever faithful to the love of his life. Yet he’d known to his soul that something critically important was missing in his life during the long years after she’d died. It wasn’t just her physical presence or the way her soft green eyes used to light up with love when she’d look his way. It wasn’t that he’d never hear her breathy voice on the other end of the phone.

Nah. It was more than the fact that he wasn’t just grieving. He was damned near mentally ill, and he knew it. If anything, he’d embraced grief as a lifelong friend instead of a challenge to overcome. Instead of grief counseling, he’d chosen mind-numbing alcohol to deaden the pain in his broken heart. It worked. He’d numbed his heart all right, but in choosing that course of action, he’d also pushed everyone away, including his parents. He’d withdrawn because, well, hell. Losing Katelynn hurt, and he never wanted to feel that kind of bad again.

But the feisty woman marching away from him was alive and vibrant. Maybe a little headstrong and foolish, but a flesh and blood woman with needs and wants. She’d made him feel something he hadn’t felt in years. She needed him. He could tell, but what’d he do? Revert into a moron the moment things got too hot to handle. And Devereaux was hot. He could still taste her lips. If she’d let him, he wanted to taste a lot more.

Seth quickened his steps. A man shouldn’t waste away, pining for a ghost he could never have, while the world went on without him, damn it. That was what he’d been doing. Pining. Dying a little more each day. Drinking alone and crying in his beer, wine, whiskey—whatever—like a pansy-assed fool. Being stupid and turning himself into a martyr.

For the first time, Seth weighed his loss against others and found himself wanting in the buck-up department. His best buddy Eric had lost his only child, a daughter. Had he quit living and giving back? Hell, no.

Seth’s boss Alex had lost a young daughter, too. Kelsey, his pretty wife had lost both of her sons before she’d met Alex. Yet all three had managed to get on with their lives. They weren’t drunks and losers. They were valiant, that was what they were. They were brave. Courageous in the face of incredible personal loss. In Kelsey’s case, she’d overcome the brutal murder of her children and became the face behind the movement in the District that helped get street kids into warm shelters. Had she given up and wallowed in her beer? Another hell, no.

‘Stop being a damned crybaby, McCray.’ Alex Stewart’s precise words had he been there. ‘Course, he would’ve peppered that order with a few colorful expletives. Might even toss a chair out his window to emphasize his point. Seth knew it to his soul. The poor me shit had to stop.

But how did a man put what he’d thought was his one eternal love on hold long enough to make a meaningful course correction back to the real world? How did one renege on the everlasting vows made in the reverent wintery woods behind his parents’ house on a still December night?

The moment he’d given Katelynn the diamond ring still called to Seth. It might sound crazy, but they’d loved each other since grade school. Even as a young man of only seventeen, he’d believed their love could transcend the last bitter, empty years of life when one spouse passed away before the other. That it was strong enough to reach through time and space, binding them to each other for eternity. All he’d known how to do was to honor Katelynn until his dying breath.

Until Devereaux showed up.

“I still love you,” he told his dearly departed, even as he trailed after another woman he couldn’t resist. Didn’t that make him a total bonehead, the prize of his heart in one hand, while he chased after another? “I always will, Kate. I don’t know how to do anything else. Only…” Dare he say it? “I’m lonely, sweetheart. I miss you every day, but I’m dying here without you. I can’t live alone like this day after day. This isn’t living, it’s....” It’s Hell, one damned long, winding road into Hell.

His gaze dropped to the weathered planks leading him onward and into temptation. “I’m worthless without you, and I hate feeling this way, like I’m cheating on you. I’m sorry if I let you down tonight, but…” As Mom would say, rip it off like a Band-Aid. Get it out in the open. Spit it out. “I have to move on.”

Instead of ghostly cries of protest like Latoya would’ve shrilled, Seth’s ears picked up the soft shuffle of heavy shoes on the dock ahead of him, punctuated by the quiet slap of bare feet. He quickened his steps in time to see some guy following Devereaux. Around two-fifty in weight, maybe five-nine in height, the guy ran a hand over the slicked black hair streaming down his neck and over his shoulders. Petting himself.

Seth caught the last of the guy’s taunt. “…happen, Baby Doll. I get what I want, and now you’re mine.”

We’ll see about that. “Devereaux! There you are,” Seth called out, loud and clear. “Wait up!”

Already turned around and now facing both men, she looked like a deer caught in a hunter’s crosshairs. Devereaux’s gaze skated between Seth and the stranger between them. Her eyes were wide, and her chin was up. She’d already canted her body to the side and braced her feet. Damn, the little thing’s fists were clenched. She was frightened, but she meant to fight this creep.

Or she means to fight me.

Seth brooked no argument, just hurried past the intruder and straight to her side. She might not like him at the moment, but there was no way he’d let her face this jerk alone. Planting a hurried kiss to her temple, he wrapped one arm around her waist and flattened her to his hip and thigh, keeping a sharp eye on the intruder. “Thought we were going to your place, hon?” he asked her sincerely. “Told you I’d just be a minute. Why didn’t you wait?”

Tension coiled in her body. The poor thing trembled like a reed in the wind, but he caught her sharp intake of breath. “Um, yeah,” she said, following his lead. One sweaty, twitchy palm settled at the center of his chest as she turned into him, molding her body to his. “It’s about time you caught up. Thought I’d lost you for a minute there.”

“Not happening.” Seth gave the stranger his chin. “Anything I can do for you, buddy?”

Dark, shrewd eyes scanned Seth from the dock up, but the guy was smart enough to keep his distance. He must only bully women and children. Smaller things that couldn’t fight back.

“Nothing tonight, but thanks for the offer,” he replied, his tone as smooth as twenty weight oil on a steaming pile of shit. “Baby Doll and I go way back. Just looking out for my talent.”

“I’m not your talent,” she corrected, swallowing hard enough that Seth could hear the gulp. “And stop with the Baby Doll crap, Sly. Take a hike. I’ve told you no, and I mean it. I won’t work for you, not this week. Not next. Not ever.” She ended with one short stamp of her bare foot.

Figures. Sly Valentine. The creep who thought he was tough because he owned a few bars. The guy muscling her to work—probably on her back—for him. So not happening.

Seth extended a hand to said douche bag but kept his tone low and sharp enough to cut nails. Devereaux had backup now. Valentine needed to understand that, here and now. “Name’s Seth McCray, Valentine. Former Army Sergeant Seth McCray. I’ve heard about you. Good to finally meet the guy who’s been looking out for my Devereaux.” It felt damned good saying those two words. Saying it out loud made it seem real and right. My Devereaux.

Valentine offered a dark scowl instead of his hand.

Fine by me. Seth dropped the polite invitation to squeeze the shit out of the guy’s fingers. A little power play between real men was standard operating procedure between the ranks. Never let it be said Seth McCray couldn’t hold his own in a test of wills.

“Later,” Valentine muttered, inclining his head to Devereaux like the gentleman he wasn’t.

“Never,” she spat at him, still trembling and her voice shaky. “Leave me alone, Sly. I mean it. I’m not working for you. You’re a murderer.”

The pig grunted. “That lizard bit me.”

“Because you had no business in his cage. You killed him!”

Seth kept his splayed hand at the small of Devereaux’s back, where it felt like it belonged. Not on her ass like he’d done before, but where she’d know he was a gentleman who respected women.

“Simply eliminating an obstacle,” Sly rumbled, his gaze raking over Devereaux. “That’s what I do. Trust me. You’ll see.”

“Back off,” Seth growled, tracking Sly’s every move with his eyes as well as his twitchy fingers. In a heartbeat, he could have his pistol up and on target. No doubt this punk had a blade hidden somewhere on his person. Sly was the kind of coward who stabbed people in the back.

The pig grunted again but kept on moving. Once certain that Valentine was gone, Seth buried his nose in the side of Devereaux’s head and whispered, “Which way to your place?”

A quiet groan vibrated through her chest, the shivering one still pressed tight against him. “I can’t do this,” she told him, the edge in her voice set hard. “You’re as bad as Sly. Go back to your island, Seth. Leave me alone.”

That hurt. Before he gave his mouth license to speak, he blurted, “She’s dead. My fiancée’s been dead for five years, but I… I just…” Saying goodbye was harder than he’d expected. “I can’t seem to let her go. In my head… I still love her, but I know it’s time.”

Devereaux eased out from where she’d settled under his chin to stare up at him. Her hands dropped to his hips. Sad blue eyes blinked at him. “She’s… she’s been dead for five years? But I thought you said… The way you talked back there…” Her brows collided and blink, blink, blink. “Five years?” she asked again, her tone incredibly—incredulous. “What are you, crazy?”

“Yeah. That’s me.” Crazy. The biggest idiot on the East Coast. Maybe borderline insane. Maybe just a fool. He didn’t know which, his hands still gently holding onto her shivering shoulders.

Hell, everyone he worked with knew he’d been inconsolable since Katelynn died. For a long time, he’d been the guy no one wanted to work with, but he’d overcome so much since then. If Devereaux Shepherd was strong enough to take a chance on him, maybe—just maybe—he could let this impossible dream of honoring his vows with his fiancée, which, now that he thought about it, had been driving him to the brink of insanity for far too long, go. Maybe with Devereaux in his life, he could move on.

“It’s just that, I’d loved her all my life. She was my girlfriend since kindergarten. When she died, I took it, umm, really hard.” The understatement of the year.

At least Devereaux hadn’t slapped him yet. Her fingers still fluttered over his chest even as angry as she was.

Seth kept explaining. “I didn’t want to go on living, but then I killed that gangbanger girl in the bar in Chicago, and I—”

Suddenly, Devereaux was out of reach and he was holding an armful of air. “You did what?!”

Instead of retreating from this strong, beautiful pixie, Seth stepped toward her. “This is going to sound crazy, and I know I’m making a mess of explaining things, but yeah.” He ran a hand over his head and ended scratching his brow. “Self-defense. Happened about a week after Katelynn died. I was in a bar with my buddies, drowning my sorrow. You know the drill. But then some chick, Latoya Franklin, showed up with a stolen gun and started shooting the place up. She took two shots at me and missed, but I… didn’t. The police took my statement after it was over, but they didn’t arrest me, and I was never charged. Latoya had a rep and a mile-long rap sheet. They knew her. Said I was a hero. That I saved her from killing anyone, maybe everyone in Harry’s Bar that night.”

Devereaux cocked her head as if trying to understand. “How exactly did she die?”

Oh, that. Seth swallowed hard. Latoya’s death was nothing to be proud of. “Double tap. She never felt a thing.”

Devereaux took a step into him, not yet touching him, but close. “Not her. I meant your fiancée. Katelynn.”

Oh, damn. Her. His tongue ran one lap over his dry lips. “Car crash. On the freeway outside O’Hare. I had a couple weeks leave. She was on her way to the airport to m-marry me.” His gaze dropped to Devereaux’s pretty bare toes. “I loved her, but…”

And there he stopped, convinced he was the biggest loser of all losers. It was time to let Devereaux get on with her life. She didn’t want someone like him in it. Didn’t need the trouble.

“You know what?” he asked no one in particular as he looked over her shoulder to the channel that would lead him to open water. It’d be dawn soon. Might be time for a long, tiring swim. “I need a drink.” Maybe two.

“No, Seth,” she murmured, just before she launched herself into his arms. “What you need,” she said as she kissed the hell out of him, “is this.”

Dear Lord, please let this be real. Seth held on tight while she nipped at his lips, urging him back into this crazy thing called life with every stroke of her tongue and every bite of her teeth. For the first time in years, passion roared to a fever pitch in his veins. He allowed his tongue to tangle with hers as he tasted the fierce sweetness of her. A throbbing beat to protect and serve this audacious woman, to make love to her and never let her go, throbbed in his head.

Finally, she swallowed hard. Her fingertips tickling him with her nervousness. “You’re something else, Seth McCray.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “I loved Katelynn, and back there” —he nodded in the direction of Molly’s Boathouse— “I wasn’t sure which was worse, cheating on the woman I swore I’d love for all eternity, or watching you walk away. I honestly didn’t know how much I’ve missed until you left me standing there like a jerk, but” —he licked his lips, striving to choose the right words at all times— “May I please walk you home, Devereaux Shepherd? I won’t come in. I just need to know you’ll be safe tonight.”

She didn’t answer, just leaned her soft body into his, even as her slender arms snaked around his neck. In exchange for the trust she’d given him, Seth let loose the quixotic burden he’d been carrying ever so carefully. Ever so valiantly. From sea to shining sea. For too damned long.

Katelynn was gone. It was time to let her go. With a shuddering sigh, Seth finally did just that. He bowed his nose to the top of Devereaux’s head and, in his heart, he whispered, ‘Goodbye Kate. I’ll always love you, but I’m not dead and I’m sorry, but I have to live while I’m here.’

Instant relief flooded the depths of his weary soul, releasing the wreck that had been his heart to the freedom of the night sky. So, this is what the last step of grief feels like. Letting go. Moving on. Wanting to live again…

“What am I going to do with you?” Devereaux murmured.

What could he say? The horndog in his pants certainly had very graphic ideas, but more than anything, Seth was a gentleman. He’d do right by this woman if she gave him the chance, but if she didn’t? If this was just a stepping-stone to healing and better mental health? Well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, he filled his lungs with the salt air and the uniquely feminine fragrance of the tiny fighter snuggled inside his arms.

His chin sank to the crown of her head. Seth closed his eyes. Letting go of Katelynn was hard but losing Devereaux seemed so much worse. Maybe even impossible. His fingers liked where they were in the middle of her back, and his nose craved the sweet fresh fragrance of her hair. It was easier to breathe with her in his arms. Life seemed—brighter. Worth living.

Yet tears stung his eyes. He swallowed hard as he said, “About that walk…”