He was watching through the eyes of an adult but trapped by a child’s limitations.
“No,” he croaked out. “Oh God, no. Stop hurting her. Please.”
His father lifted his head and stared directly at Jensen, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “You’re worthless. You can’t protect her. You’ve failed her just like you failed your idiot mother.”
And then Kylie called his name. It was a plea for help, one he couldn’t ignore even in his dream.
Finally, finally he was able to move. No longer was he encased by lead. No longer was he in the body of the child he was. He let out a roar and launched himself at his father as his adult self with all the strength he’d lacked when he was just a boy.
He knocked his father away and then lunged for him, wrapping his hands around his father’s throat. He’d stop him this time. He’d never hurt another woman. Jensen was no longer the helpless child he’d been for so many years.
All his hatred and anger poured from him in black waves, giving him even more strength.
He wouldn’t fail his mother this time. He wouldn’t fail Kylie.
He squeezed, watching his father’s face go purple, his eyes bulging at the strain.
Kylie called out to him again, her voice desperate. Hoarse sounding. She was pleading with him. To stop?
Shock froze him. Why would Kylie beg for his father’s life?
This time when she said his name, it was barely distinguishable and was accompanied by a whimper of pain. He struggled through the haze of the nightmare, confused by Kylie’s actions.
And then, as if he’d been doused by cold water, he roused from sleep.
Horror swept through him with agonizing speed. His hand was wrapped around Kylie’s neck, his fingers digging into her skin. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled helplessly in his grasp. Desperately pulling at the hand around her neck.
Oh God, he was going to be sick.
He released her instantly and she fell away, holding her throat and gasping for breath. She coughed and choked, hunched over, her hair in disarray around her shoulders. She huddled on the very edge of the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest protectively. She rocked back and forth, her broken sobs ripped horrific wounds in his soul. Wounds he might never recover from. How could he?
“Kylie!”
His agonizing cry of her name sounded much like a noise a wounded animal would make.
What had he done? How could he have done something so horrible? He’d become the very monster both their fathers were.
“Kylie, oh my God, are you all right, baby?”
He hovered over her, still shaking from the dream. He was afraid to touch her, but he had to offer her comfort.
He pulled her into his arms, tears wetting his cheeks as he rocked her back and forth.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Despair settled over him, turning everything to black. Sorrow and regret weighed him down, hammering into his mind.
He’d done the one thing he’d sworn never to do. He’d hurt her.
He was no better than his father. All the things he’d said, all the things he’d never imagined doing to another human being now battered him. The whispers in his mind, the ghosts from his past, taunted him. Mocked him and told him what a hypocrite he was.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts bleak as he realized the magnitude of what he’d done. As he realized the consequences of what he’d done.
Tears blurred his vision. Grief for what he’d lost in the space of a few moments.
He had to let her go.
Kylie was stiff in his arms. She hadn’t made a sound other than the low whimpers of fear. He wondered if she was even capable of speech after he’d nearly choked her to death.
She’d wear bruises tomorrow. Marks that he’d put there.
He would never forgive himself for this.
“I’m okay,” Kylie whispered.
Her hoarse words jerked him to awareness, away from the blackness of his thoughts.
He loosened his hold on her and pulled away, not meeting her gaze. He couldn’t. There was nothing to say, no apology sincere enough for what he’d done. No way for him to make this right.
“I’ll pack your things and then I’ll take you home,” he said gruffly.
Kylie flinched and her head flew up so he could see her wide, frightened eyes. Only now confusion had replaced the fear and uncertainty.
“What?” she whispered.
He winced every time she spoke. She could barely talk in a loud enough tone for him to hear.
“I’m taking you home,” he said, his gaze sliding away from her. He couldn’t sit here and look at what he’d lost. Couldn’t face what he’d done. It was a knife to his heart.
“I don’t understand.”
Her voice trembled and tears crowded her eyes, making them go glossy and wet.
“We can’t be together, Kylie.”
He hadn’t meant the words to come out so forcefully. Or with such heat. But he was dying slowly, with every breath. All his pain came out in those damning words.
“You’re giving up on us?”
The hurt in her voice poured more salt on his exposed wound.
“I love you, Jensen. And you’re just quitting? Just like that?”
“Goddamn it, Kylie. Look at what I did,” he all but roared. “How can you even consider being with a man like me? I could have killed you—I tried to kill you.”
“It was a dream,” she said. “You didn’t mean it.”
Bile rose in his throat. God, she was trying to rationalize his behavior. His thoughts went to the woman he and Kylie had seen in the parking lot the other night. How she’d explained away her husband or boyfriend’s actions. And now Kylie was doing the same thing for him.
He wouldn’t allow it. She deserved better than him.
“Listen to yourself, Kylie,” he said in a cold voice. “Listen to you explain away my abuse. How you rationalize it. Get dressed while I get your stuff together. I’ll take you home tonight.”
“You said you loved me,” Kylie whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “You promised . . .”
“Yeah, what did I promise?” Jensen demanded. “I promised never to hurt you.”
Kylie turned away, presenting her shoulder to him. A shoulder that heaved with her quiet sobs as she began to dress.
It took Jensen half an hour to pack up all of Kylie’s belongings. He shoved them into the trunk of his car and then went back for Kylie, who was now sitting on the sofa in the living room.
Her face was pale, her eyes red and ravaged by tears. Her hair was in disarray, tousled not only from sleep but from what he’d done. His fingerprints shone on her neck, a stark reminder of how close he’d come to killing her.
“Let’s go,” he said shortly.
Kylie rose shakily on her feet. She still wouldn’t look at him, something he was glad for. He had enough regret for both of them.
He got into the driver’s seat as she slid in on the passenger side. The drive to her house was silent, the quiet oppressive and stifling. With every minute that ticked by his sorrow and self-loathing grew until he was certain he would be consumed with it.
He finally pulled into Kylie’s driveway. He got out and headed to his trunk to retrieve all of her things. Stuff she’d brought to his house. Stuff he’d gotten used to being strewn all over his house.
He set everything inside her door, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. When he turned to go back to his car he nearly collided with Kylie. He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her and she wrenched herself from his grasp.
With a sigh, he headed toward his car, turning his back on her for good.
“I would have never given up on us like you’re doing,” she called out.
He stopped in his tracks, the accusation halting him.
“Don’t do this, Kylie. Don’t make it even harder than this is.”
??
?I love you,” she choked out.
He closed his eyes as his wounds began to bleed all over again. “I love you too, Kylie, and that’s why I have to go.”
He fled toward his car, not waiting for her response. He couldn’t take any more. He had to get away before he completely fell apart.
The drive home was a blur. Images of Kylie with his hand wrapped around her neck bombarded him left and right until he was dizzy. The huge knot in his gut grew.
He’d never love another woman. Not the way he loved Kylie.
As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he threw open the door, bolted out and heaved his guts all over the front yard.
TWENTY-SEVEN
KYLIE watched the sun creep over the horizon as she sat in a chair on her back deck, wrapped in a blanket. It was plenty warm, and yet a bone-deep chill had settled in. She had the fleeting thought that she might never be warm again.
Jensen gave her warmth with his smiles, his tenderness, his love. And now it and he were gone.
She wished she could muster the emotional strength to hate him. But all she could see was the desolation and horror in his eyes. The loathing and self-recrimination for what he’d done.
She rubbed absently at her still sore throat where the bruises, shaped into fingerprints, had spread across her skin.
He could have killed her.
It was what he said and what she’d pondered and yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. As soon as he’d come out of the dream, he’d released her. He wouldn’t consciously ever hurt her. She believed that with all her heart. So why didn’t he?
He’d nagged at her about her self-confidence and yet he appeared not to have any himself. Or at least when it came to her.
She sighed and stared down at the paper in front of her. Her resignation letter, addressed to Dash. She wouldn’t stick the knife deeper by including Jensen in her resignation.
Her laptop and phone lay on the table next to the letter. She’d spent most of the night Googling and looking up mortgage companies and Realtors. She didn’t need to get a mortgage. She had enough invested to buy a house with plenty left over. Besides, who would give her a mortgage when she was unemployed?
It was hours yet before any of the businesses would open. She hesitated a moment as the idea gripped her. She should go now and place the letter on Dash’s desk. Before he or Jensen would come in this morning.
The weekend was a blur. She’d done nothing but lie in bed, covers up to her chin. In between bouts of crying. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept. She’d barely managed the feat of dragging herself to the bathroom to take care of the essentials.
Then her mind had sprung into recovery mode. She couldn’t hide in her house forever. People got their hearts broken every day. She wasn’t special in that regard. Life went on. The question was whether she was going to move on or be like she’d always been in the past. Timid. Afraid. Stick her head back in the sand, adopting the mantra of “ignorance is bliss.”
She knew two things. One, she couldn’t continue working for Dash and Jensen. And two, she needed to move. It was an idea she’d entertained in the past, but she’d never wanted to expend the energy to do it.
Now the letter was typed, and she had the phone number of a local real estate company. It was time to act and to stop being so passive when it came to her life.
Her muscles protested as she hauled herself to her feet. But she pushed back the discomfort, picked up the letter and went back inside the house to get dressed and grab her keys to the office.
Thirty minutes later, she placed the letter on Dash’s desk along with today’s to-do list. She felt a brief moment of guilt for doing this to Dash. He’d never been anything but patient and understanding with her. He was a dream to work for. And quitting abruptly when they hadn’t yet found her replacement wasn’t fair to him. But she couldn’t come in to work where Jensen would be and pretend her heart hadn’t just been destroyed.
She then walked into her office and began packing up her belongings and personal effects.
When she was done, she turned, taking one last glance at the business her brother had built. The place she’d worked ever since graduating college. Yes, she was good at her job. She would have made a damn good partner too. But there were other jobs out there. It was time to cut ties and let go and move on.
Carson was gone. He wasn’t ever coming back. She wouldn’t be anyone’s burden any longer.
With a sigh, she trudged toward the elevator. In the lobby, she waved at the night guard who looked at her curiously as she hoisted the box she was holding higher so she wouldn’t drop it.
When she got home, she left the box in her car, uncaring if it came in or not. All she wanted was to go back to bed and stay there for a week. Maybe she would. Or at least until word spread about what happened and Chessy and Joss hunted her down.
She should call them. Tell them herself. But she couldn’t make herself do it. There was nothing her friends could do anyway, other than give her a shoulder to cry on and tell her it was okay and that there were other fish in the sea.
Yeah, whatever.
She might not have a ton of experience in love and relationships, but even she knew that she’d never find another love like Jensen.
She walked past the things Jensen had carried back into her house and into the kitchen. She glanced at the bottle of wine on the counter and shrugged. Why not?
She poured herself a generous glass and started for the bedroom when she turned back and grabbed the bottle. It would save her a trip back later, and once she got into her bed, she wasn’t coming back out for anyone.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“YOU mind telling me what the hell this is about?” Dash bellowed.
Jensen looked up tiredly as Dash waved a piece of paper in front of his nose. Jensen was in no mood for guessing games. He hadn’t slept since Friday night. He had a hangover from hell, after doing something he never did. He’d gotten rip-roaring drunk, and he’d stayed that way the entire weekend.
Just more evidence that he was more like his father than he thought. Apparently the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.
“Christ, you look like shit,” Dash said in disgust.
“Fuck off,” Jensen growled.
“She quit,” Dash bit out as he put his hands on Jensen’s desk and leaned forward.
He shoved the letter of resignation where Jensen couldn’t help but see it.
Despair blanketed Jensen, suffocating him. Blackness swirled, drowning him in sorrow.
“Don’t let her,” Jensen said bleakly. “I’ll go. I’d never do anything to make her go. I can work out of another office and leave the two of you here.”
“Joss went by her house today, worried sick when I told her Kylie had resigned. Kylie wasn’t home. No one knows where the fuck she is. And she’s put her goddamn house up for sale,” Dash roared. “What the fuck did you do to her?”
Jensen closed his eyes. Tears burned his eyelids like acid.
“I hurt her,” he whispered. “I swore I never would.”
Dash sent him a puzzled look. “Hurt as in how?”
Jensen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you not let her do this. Tell her I’m cleared out. Do whatever you have to. I’ll clean out my desk today. She can have my office or remain in hers.”
“Jesus Christ, am I even going to have a business after all this?” Dash demanded.
“I don’t give a fuck about the goddamn business,” Jensen growled. “All I care about is Kylie.”
Dash shook his head. “For someone who says he hurt her, I’d say you still care an awful lot about what she does.”
“Of course I care,” Jensen raged. “I love her. I’ll never goddamn love anyone else.”
“Then why the fuck are you here and not over there at her feet begging for forgiveness?” Dash roared back.
Jensen surged to his feet, planting his palms down on the desk. He leaned forward so he was eye to eye with D
ash.
“Because some things are unforgivable,” Jensen choked out. “Some things can’t be taken back, can’t be redone. No matter if she forgives me—she likely would. I can’t forgive myself. Do you understand that?”
Dash sighed. “Yeah, man. I get that. But Jensen? Here’s a clue for you. You said you hurt her. What the hell do you think you’re doing now?”
Jensen sank back into his chair and ran a hand through his hair. God, he was so tired. He wanted one night where he wasn’t swallowed by the demons of his past. When he wasn’t seeing his hands around Kylie’s throat or hearing her calling his name.
He just wanted . . . peace. Was it too much to ask for?
But then how could he ever truly be at peace when the woman he loved was gone from his arms?
“Don’t let her quit, Dash,” Jensen said, his weariness evident in his every word. “Whatever you have to do in order to convince her. Do it. I’ll be out by the end of the day.”
TWENTY-NINE
KYLIE patiently sat and listened to the dozen voice mail messages from Chessy, Joss and Dash. She sipped the strong coffee as she sat in the small café in the neighborhood she was house hunting in.
Amazing how much more productive she was when she wasn’t shitfaced drunk from all the wine she’d consumed this week.
The lightbulb had gone on when she discovered she was completely out of wine. Then she’d surveyed the bottles littering her kitchen in disgust. Enough of that already. A week was long enough to wallow in her misery. It was time to get on with the rest of her life.
She cringed when she listened to Dash’s message. Jensen had cleared out his office and would be working out of another. Dash wanted Kylie to get her ass back to work and to call Joss before she lost her mind.
Guilt crept over her. She’d avoided her friends—everyone—for the entire week. She’d listened to the incessant ringing of the doorbell and the pounding. She bet the pounding came from Chessy. She was rather persistent when she put her mind to something. But the alcohol haze had made it impossible for her to do anything more than lie sprawled on her bed staring up at the ceiling, praying Joss and Chessy would give up and go away.
Though her house had gone on the market Monday, it wouldn’t start showing until the following Monday. That—and the realization of how much wine she’d consumed—had given her sufficient motivation to sober up and get her ass out of the house.
She listened to the rest of the messages but winced when she heard Joss begging her to call. There were tears in Joss’s voice. Dash would kill Kylie for upsetting Joss this way. And she couldn’t blame him.
She had to face them at some point. She couldn’t hide forever. Jensen wasn’t an integral component of her circle of friends. He’d mainly become a part through Kylie. So it wasn’t as if she had to worry about running across Jensen when she visited with her friends. She may have lost him, but she’d be damned if she lost