Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

“Hey,” I say. “How’d it go?”

“Okay.” She nods, still smiling. Sort of.

“Just okay?”

“Yeah. I was looking for… Honestly, I’m not sure what I was looking for. Maybe some closure, but I realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing he could possibly say would change anything. And nothing he could possibly say would make me understand why he forsook me the way he did.”

“You’re probably right.” I wince. My hand is starting to throb now.

“So I’m done here. He didn’t apologize, and it doesn’t matter. It is what it is.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“But it is, Luke. Nothing can change the past, and nothing can make me feel better about it. My cousin—who I once loved—isn’t the person he was when we were young.”

“He was a child then.”

“Right. But he was a good child. He’s not a good man.”

He’s not a good man.

Her words spear into my heart, and the pain in my knuckles doubles, as hundreds of knives are slicing into me.

For most of my adult life, I wasn’t a good man, either.

I’ve made a commitment to change. Getting off the sauce was a good start, but I have so much farther to go. I want to get there, and now that I’ve met Katelyn, I want it even more.

I was as addicted to women as I was to alcohol. But the difference is that I can’t stay off women forever.

I don’t want to.

I want to be the man I know I can be with some help.

And Katelyn makes me want that even more.

She’s been through hell, and I want to help her see that life can be good. Life can be happy.

And while I show her, I’ll show myself.

“He’ll never be the kind of man you are, Luke.”

Wow. Such words. She has no idea what they mean to me. I could easily be behind bars as well, with no freaking chance for parole.

I got lucky. Damned lucky, and I’m not going to waste the chance.

Which means I probably shouldn’t come back here tomorrow to see Anthony DeCarlo.

I’ll sleep on it.

Except I already know I’m coming back. Katelyn is that important to me, and I’m going to find out exactly what the hell he did to her.

And why.

“Let’s get home,” I say to Katelyn.

“What time do you have to be at work?”

I check my phone. “I’ve got a few hours yet.”

“Could we…”

“Could we what?”

“Could we go to your place?”

My heart nearly stops. Is she asking for sex? Because I’m not sure she’s ready.

I’m not sure I’m ready.

Though my cock has other ideas. It’s already tightening to the point of discomfort inside my jeans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. I’m not saying I want to…you know.”

“That’s okay. What do you want, Katelyn?”

“First, I want to clean you up. Bandage your knuckles. Maybe give you some ibuprofen. Then I want to be with you. I want you to hold me. I want you to remind me that good men still exist in the world.”

I’m about ready to melt into a puddle. God, she gets to me. She makes me want to be a better man.

The best man.

No woman ever made me want that before.

Sure, I’m off the booze and I’ve been through some therapy, but the core of a person doesn’t change. Just their environment. Their attitude.

For Katelyn, I will be a better man.

“It’s small,” she says of my studio.

“It’s cozy,” I return.

She smiles. “It is. I like it.” She walks around the room and stops next to my bed.

Trepidation exudes from her pores. The old me would be using my tried-and-true seduction methods and have her screaming between the sheets in ten minutes.

It’s tempting…

She makes me want to be a better man.

It’s still tempting.

But I won’t succumb. I’ve come too far, and I care too much about her wellbeing.

“Let’s take care of your hand,” she says.

I walk toward her slowly, touch her soft cheek. “I’ve got it.”

I head into my bathroom, wash the wound, and do the best I can with antibacterial ointment and a few small bandages.

A moment later, I’m next to Katelyn, who’s still next to the bed. I touch her cheek again. “Tell me what you want. Anything. It’s yours.”

“You can’t give me what I ultimately want.”

“I can try.”

She sighs. “You can’t erase my past.”

“You can’t erase mine either,” I say, “but together we can make a better future.”

She sighs then—a soft moan that echoes through my small abode and into my very soul.

I push a lock of her blond hair out of her eyes and gaze into them.

So blue, like the sky right at noon, only the sun isn’t shining in her today. She’s troubled.

And I understand.

I wish I could erase her past. I’d do it in a minute, even if it meant giving my own life. The idea frightens me, and what frightens me more is that I mean it with all my heart. I can’t erase her past, but I can hold her. That’s what she asked for at the prison.