Chapter Thirty
Carson dropped his bags next to the front door, an exhausted sigh dripping from his lungs. He trudged to the kitchen in the semidarkness, grabbed a beer from the fridge, shucked his suit jacket and tie before plopping down on the living room couch. Another sigh fell out on a groan as he sunk into the cushioned comfort.
What a fucking grueling three weeks.
He’d checked out of San Fran the Sunday after the Avery debacle on an extended investigative run through all of the Faulkner offices. The trip had been more than justified, given their IT upgrade plans, but he’d bumped up the timing to give Avery space. His being out of the office had hopefully lessened the strain on her.
She’d returned to work the day after he’d left on his trip. Gregory had told him that much, but he’d heard nothing from Avery.
He opened the bottle, the quick hiss a welcome sound. He took three long gulps of the beer before stopping to enjoy the hit of relief that flowed through him. He closed his eyes and simply absorbed the silence. Nothing. No hum of an airplane or hotel air conditioner. No pressing agenda or meeting to plan for.
Just...emptiness.
His breaths slowed and his muscles slowly unwound until he wasn’t sure if he could move. The desire to go to bed was hindered by the fact that he’d have to move to get there. Was it worth the energy?
Time passed on fluctuating ebbs of random thoughts and nothing at all. Full dark had settled in when he forced his eyes open. The streetlights lit the room with a dull glow through his blinds, indicating how long he’d been sitting there. He scrubbed his face in an attempt to wake himself up. The time difference should’ve been in his favor since he’d traveled from New York, but the days of hop-scotching across the country and Europe had put his internal clock in chaos.
At least he had the weekend to sleep and readjust to this time zone. And all that free time meant there’d be plenty of room to think about Avery. He’d used work to avoid that, and it’d worked for the most part, but the mess had still hovered around him, taunting, picking, reminding him of what he’d lost.
Her lack of contact sent a clear message of where she stood on them. They were done. Just like that. One mistake, and he’d been given the heave-ho. He scoffed into the emptiness, rubbing his brow. Why had he hoped for something different?
The ache in his chest had dulled to a numb consistency that’d blocked his emotions and allowed him to focus on work. He’d been doing that for years, but it was so damn hard now.
Avery had changed everything.
He’d sworn off relationships, commitment and marriage after his parents’ divorce. That had been the final capper after witnessing twenty-five years of falseness. His parents had done a decent job raising them, but they’d done a sucky job of demonstrating a relationship built on love and trust. In the end, theirs had been a marriage of necessity compounded by an inability to do anything else. They’d conformed to expectations, found jobs, raised a family and stayed together because they were supposed to.
And that had lasted until they no longer had to.
Carson had sworn he’d never do that.
But now he wondered about what he was missing. The connection that came with being a part of someone else. The bond that formed from shared experiences. The history created that formed the future.
Someone to come home to, laugh with, love.
Be loved by.
A horrible sense of defeat spread through him to drag him down even further. His throat tightened as a wave of prickles scrambled up it to nip at the backs of his eyes. Fuck. He rubbed his eyes, squeezing them tight to hold in the emotions scrambling to break free. He couldn’t let them loose, yet he was too worn down to hold them back.
No!
He sat up, blinking rapidly to force back the breakdown he couldn’t afford to have. It didn’t have to be over with Avery. He’d given her time—lots of it. Gregory had also said that she’d returned without a word to him about the Boardroom. Would she stay at Faulkner when he returned to the office on Monday? How would she react—if at all?
If nothing else, they needed to talk about that. No, he had to know that she was really okay. Guessing and wondering was more agonizing than dealing with a final end.
Three sharp knocks on his door jolted him upright. He frowned, confused and annoyed at once. Who the fuck is that? He glanced at the time, frown deepening right before three more knocks beat out in quick succession.
Goddamn it. He stalked to the door, prepared to bark at whoever was on the other side. This was a really crappy time for an impromptu visit from anyone.
He ripped the door open, a harsh greeting prepped and ready, only for it to die.
Avery stood there, a hesitant smile on her lips.
He froze, too stunned to do anything.
Her smile wobbled. “Hi, Carson.”
The low note of her voice teased him with memories and promises. Her summer sweater hugged her chest, the cap sleeves and scoop neck both demur and sexy in a distinctively Avery way. The deep purple shade was beautiful against her pale skin, and he couldn’t stop staring.
She was there. On his doorstep.
Her hair was down, the gentle waves softening her features. She wet her lips, drawing her tongue over the bottom one. Would he get to kiss them again?
“Avery,” he finally said once his brain reengaged. His brows drew down. “What are you doing here?” It was after ten o’clock.
She clasped her hands before her, lips pressing together. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk?” His brain misfired once again. “How did you know I was home?” And why was he making her stand in the hallway? Christ. “Come in.” He stepped back, waving her inside.
Her smile was stiff when she stopped just inside the doorway. “I might’ve gotten your itinerary off Jean under the pretext of Gregory needing to know.”
The admission loosened one of the knots in his chest. She’d sought him out. “Okay.” His response was fucking lame, but he couldn’t think beyond this was good, right? She could’ve waited until tomorrow if she simply wanted to tell him to go to hell. He led her into the kitchen, flicking on the light as he went. He blinked against the brightness and opened the refrigerator. “Can I offer you something?” He held up a beer. “I have wine, vodka, scotch and gin too.”
“I’ll take a beer.”
His grin was automatic. She’d picked the beer over wine when he’d expected the opposite, like so many things about her.
He twisted off the top and handed the beer over before opening one for himself. They stood on opposite sides of the island, an awkwardness settling in the longer the silence stretched. But he couldn’t stop staring at her. His pulse had kicked up a notch and had not gone down since he’d opened the door. And that silly, flighty thing had sprung to life in his chest to flick at the locks he’d barely reinstalled around his heart.
“So,” he started before he got carried away dreaming about new starts when this could be an ending. “How are you?”
Her small laugh was a single note of sarcasm that matched her bemused smile. “I’ve been better, but I’m doing okay. You?”
“Yeah?” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “I’ve been better too.”
Her smile fell. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
He’d assumed that. He had too. Was there any chance they’d come to the same conclusion? “And?”
“And...” She set her bottle on the counter and came around to his side of the island. Her fingers trailed over the marble like she was marking a return path, but her expression was open.
His breaths shortened as he tracked her movement. He set his bottle down, turning to face her when she stopped a few feet away. She was close enough to touch, but he fisted his hands at his sides, waiting. Nerves spun a twisted tale of hope and rejection in his stomach and threatened to dispel the awful plane food he’d managed to digest.
“And,” she said again, “I want you to know how much you hurt me.” The truth of exactly how much was etched into the lines around her mouth and the pain in her eyes.
“I know.” God, did he know. “I hope you know how sorry I am.” He lifted his hand, his movement slow enough for her to deflect. His chest tightened and released when he cupped her cheek. The contact hummed over him, igniting the portion of him that’d felt dead since she’d left.
Her eyes closed, head tilting into his touch, and he couldn’t resist pulling her in. And she came, two small steps that had her in his arms. Yes. The rightness breathed over him as he wrapped her in a hug. This was what he’d missed. What he would miss out on by denying love.
“I was so worried I’d lost you,” he murmured into her hair. He rested his cheek on her head and absorbed everything about her. That faint peppermint scent. The curve of her breasts against his chest. The warm wisps of her breath across his neck.
Her arms came around his back to hold him, and he finally breathed. He squeezed his eyes closed yet again, this time to keep the prickling bites of joy from spilling out.
“You almost did,” she said.
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her head and leaned back to cup her cheek again, one arm still holding her close. He couldn’t let her go. Not now. Not ever. “What changed?”
Tears sparkled in the corners of her eyes, brightening them to a stunning shade of blue. “A lot of things.” Her mouth twisted. “Part of it was accepting my share in causing what happened. I—”
“You didn’t do anything,” he cut in, adamant.
She cupped her hand over his on her cheek. “That’s the problem.” She squeezed his hand, giving a small wince. “I let you do everything. It was easier to let you lead. That way I didn’t have to own my choice, not completely at least.”
What did that mean, exactly? How did he respond?
“You were right,” she continued. “About the app.” She bit her lip, another wince tugging her brows together. “I wasn’t ready to know about it earlier. Heck,” she scoffed, “I wasn’t ready when I found out about it.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve told you.” Withholding information was another form of a secret. “I have no excuse except to say I was being selfish.” Incredibly, possessively selfish. He stroked his thumb over her cheek. “I didn’t want to share you.”
She blinked a few times before leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder. He held her close, still amazed that she allowed him to do so. “I didn’t want to be shared,” she said softly. “I still don’t.”
He squeezed her tighter, his throat thick with relief and gratitude. “And I still want you for myself.”
They stood like that for a long moment. A sense of peace settled in, the weeks of angst, regrets and numbness finally departing. Her hand rose and fell in a gentle stroke of comfort over the small of his back. He wanted to stand there forever. A part of him was still afraid that if he let go, she’d be gone.
“Can this really work between us?” she asked.
He shoved back, framing her face with his hands in a desperate attempt to get her to believe him. To trust him. “Yes.” He left no doubt in his voice. “Yes. We can work. We already do.” In so many ways. From their easy conversations to their shared likes to their mutual kinks. “You—” He swallowed, hunted for the right words. But there were only a few that he needed. “I love you, Avery. I don’t know how it happened or if I deserve you, but I love you.”
The admission hung between them in that wobbly space of “oh, shit” and “fuck yes.” His heart expanded to fill him with certainty. It spread to his face, his mouth curling with a joy he couldn’t contain.
“I love you so damn much,” he repeated, unable to hold it in now that he’d set it free. He let it shine from him in a way that left him totally exposed. His declaration could backfire, but he was done fearing it. Love could suck. It could change. It could hurt.
But it could bring so much good too.
And he wanted all of it with Avery.
Her mouth quivered, but a smile peeked through as her fingers dug into his hips. She bit her lip, stopping the nervous flutter before it broke free into a full grin.
His heart seemed to race and stop at once. It didn’t matter if she didn’t return the words, not yet. She just needed to give him a chance to prove how much he meant them.
He dipped his head, pausing right before his lips touched her. She searched him, a warmth pooling in her eyes that communicated so much.
“I missed you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his.
His chest contracted around the hope begging to be set free. He brushed his lips to hers in a gentle agreement. He was afraid to speak again. Afraid to ruin what was so close to being really, really good.
She blinked, swallowed. “We still have some things to work through.”
“I know.” But they’d do it. He swore they could. “I have a lot to make up for.”
She ran a hand up his chest, sending off a wave of longing. “We’re still figuring this thing out.”
“We are.”
“There’re bound to be bumps.”
“There are.”
She circled a hand around his neck to draw him closer. “But I think this is good.”
“It is.” He could barely breathe let alone answer in more than two syllables.
Her lips brushed his, but just a touch. She nudged his nose with her own in a tender connection that reached his toes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, every nerve ending poised to attack when she gave the signal. “I love you, Carson Haggert.”
He swooped in then, unable to restrain himself a second longer. He claimed her mouth with all the love and crazy relief pumping through him. The rightness sizzled over his skin and hummed in his heart. He’d locked love out for so damn long, now he couldn’t get enough.
Not of her or her touch or the connection flowing so strongly between them.
He pulled back and sucked in a harsh breath. He lifted her by the hips to set her on the island. She gasped, but drew him in with her legs in the next moment. She wrapped him up tight with her limbs, a hand snaking through his hair as she smiled.
“I love it when you get demanding like that.”
She would never stop amazing him. He dove back in, determined to show her what he’d failed to say. How much he treasured her. How much he cared for her. How much she meant to him.
He softened the kiss until each stroke of his tongue became a promise. This was real, and he fully embraced what that implied. There were no guarantees, but this right here with Avery was pretty damn close to perfect.