She frowns, and damned if it doesn’t make my chest tighten. The hand she still has on my arm is warm, and I look down at it. Her fingernails are cut short and painted a soft pink color. Her hands are so small that they’d be dwarfed in mine if I were to lace them together.
She must see something on my face as I look down at her hand, because seconds later, she jerks it away. I bring my gaze back to her and see a bright flush on her cheeks, and I know she must have felt the connection too. It still amazes me that she’s not affected by my scars. I’m not jaded enough to believe that all people will be repulsed by them, but it’s as if she doesn’t see them at all.
When she moves to take a step back, I reach out and seize her wrist before I realize what I’m doing. Our eyes lock the minute my hand touches hers and from the silent communication between us, we both know the other felt the electrical zap at contact.
“Don’t,” I whisper, and gently pull her toward me. “I like it when you touch me.”
I’m an idiot for asking for more from her, and I have no idea why I am, but the thought of her not touching me now is something I just can’t comprehend. Even the innocent touch of her hand on my arm is something I need. I’ll regret it later and feel like a bastard, but right at this moment the longing is much too strong to ignore.
I lean back against the counter and widen my stance. She watches with cautious eyes as I continue to pull her toward me. With shaky hands and shallow breathing, I put my arms around her waist and pull her chest against mine. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Before Clara, I had had my fair share of women, but this
feels different somehow.
With her so close, we lose eye contact. Her arms go around my waist and she rests her head against my chest.
The embrace is both innocent and intimate. Feeling the warmth of her body, her soft curves against the hard muscles of mine, sends blood rushing to my cock, but it also feels comforting. I squeeze my eyes closed at how good this feels, how right it feels to have her in my arms, like this is where she’s supposed to be. I want that to be true so fucking much, but I know it can’t be.
I hold Gwen in my arms and concentrate on memorizing the feeling of having her there. I wish we could stay like this forever, but it’s not possible. Not with the guilt I still carry. Not knowing I let my family down. Gwen and her two kids are too important. I won’t take that chance with them. There’s too much to lose.
So instead, I’ll soak up every single second I have with her and Kelsey and Daniel, and keep these moments locked away and only let them out when the pain gets to be too much.
We stand like this for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of being in each other’s arms. I want to put my fist through the wall when the moment is interrupted by my phone ringing. Gwen pulls back before I’m ready for her to and looks over at my phone sitting on the counter. When I make no move to grab it and instead tighten my arms around her, she looks up at me.
“Are you going to get that?”
“No,” I tell her, never moving my eyes off her.
When the phone stops ringing, her forehead lands on the center of my chest, and her hands clench the back of my shirt tighter, like she doesn’t want to let me go either. A growl leaves the back of my throat when my damn phone starts ringing again. I’d love nothing more than to chuck it against the wall.
“Alexander,” Gwen calls, pulling my murderous gaze from the phone. I lose the glare when my eyes land on her. “Maybe it’s important.”
Right now, I don’t care if it’s important. All I care about is keeping Gwen where she is. But I know that’s not being rational.
Reluctantly, I loosen my arms and she takes a step back. I stalk over to the phone and snatch it from the counter. Looking at the screen, I release a tired sigh.
It’s my mom, and I know there’s no way I can put her off anymore. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve spoken to her and she knows what tomorrow is. She’s a mother and her natural instinct is to worry about her kids. She knows how tough the anniversary of their deaths is. If I don’t answer now, she’ll only continue to call back until I do. Or even worse, call the sheriff and have him come check on me. Yes, she’s done that before when I went weeks without answering her calls.
Pulling in a deep breath, I swipe my finger across the screen.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer.
Gwen’s eyes widen when she hears who’s on the phone. A moment later, she leaves the kitchen, I assume to give me privacy.
“Alexander,” my mom breaths through the phone. I can tell she’s surprised I answered.
“How are you?” I ask, leaning against the counter and crossing my ankles.
“Much better now that I’ve heard your voice.”
“Mom, I’m—” I start to apologize.
“No, Alexander,” she interrupts. “Your dad and I have been talking and he’s made me realize something. I know I hover too much. I know I’ve smothered you over the years since….” She trails off, not needing to clarify. “I just worry about you. I hate knowing you’re in pain,” she finishes quietly.
I twist my neck from side to side, trying to relieve the tension I always get when I talk to my mom. She doesn’t mean to add more stress, and I’m sure it would upset her if she realized how much she’s caused me with her worrying. I haven’t had the heart to tell her because I know she’s only doing it out of love. That, and the fact it wasn’t just me who lost Clara and Rayne. She lost a daughter and granddaughter.
“I get it. I really do, but you’ve got to stop worrying so much, okay?” I hear her sniffle on the other end of the line and it makes me feel like a dick, but I press forward. “I’m fine. Yes, it still hurts to breathe sometimes, but I’m getting there.” I pull air in my lungs and let it out slowly, knowing this is going to hurt her, but also knowing it needs to be said. “I love you, Mom, and I know you mean well, but when you constantly call and ask how I’m doing, it helps keep that wound open.”
Her hiccupping sob guts me, and I close my eyes. When I open them, they meet Gwen’s over the bar. She’s standing on the other side of the couch with one of the puppies in her arms, watching me. I’m not sure if she can hear what I’m saying, but I’m sure my expression says enough.