My brow lines. “What do you mean?”
He reaches out to touch my cheek. “I’ll be in Princeton at the condo. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting to come and get you.”
A flame kindles in my heart at his words. I have to find the answers to my past. I can’t go forward or build a life until I know the truth about myself. Still, as much as I want to fight him, I can’t ignore the inner shift I feel. He’ll wait for me. Those four words give me the strength I need to make this journey. The strength to believe I might come out on the other side. I might survive this.
20
Answers
Stuart
Standing at the edge of the ocean under the light of a full moon, I watch her walk away from me, back inside the club to where that douche Pete waits for her. She’s so utterly beautiful, so changed since the last time I saw her.
Before, she was golden and ethereal. She was bewitching and elusive with her long, wavy hair and endless jewelry. Now she’s elegant and controlled. Her black dress hugs her slim body, and her short hair blows in straight lines around her neck. Her walls are strong, and she’s fighting. Still, I could feel the heat simmering just below the surface. My passionate Mariska is still inside this guarded woman.
When she reaches the steps, my eyes trace the length of her smooth legs as she reaches down to put on her boots. She straightens and jogs up to the porch, disappearing inside. Only then do I follow her into the noisy club. I hate places like this. If Derek hadn’t told me she would be here, I’d never have come, but I had to find her.
Two days ago, when I went back to the condo in Princeton, everything came crashing down, and I felt just how much we had lost. It all happened so fast in Montana, from the good news to the tragedy. We lost sight of how much we had.
When I walked through the door, I was greeted by a vase of wildflowers with a list of all the things Mariska needed to do to get ready for this fall. We needed to pack and move her stuff from Bayville to Princeton. She had to collect all her paintings and decide which sketches were appropriate and which should be hidden.
When I saw that line item, a broken laugh escaped on an exhale. I remembered her cute little face, her golden eyes so intense as she peeked out at my naked body from behind a sketchpad. Her long waves would be twirled up around a pencil as she drew me from all angles. I’d see her cheeks pink, and I would catch her toe and nip it or trace a finger up the inside of her thigh to watch the chill bumps rise.
I remembered how when she worked on her art, she usually had a smudge of charcoal on her nose or a streak of paint on her cheek. I remembered how she would walk through the room in only those fucking boy shorts to drive me crazy.
We’ve been through hell, but I won’t let her go. Mariska is the mother of my children. We lost one. It was tragic and heartbreaking, and I can’t forgive myself for the way I reacted. At the same time, I won’t lose her over it. We will survive this, and we will come out stronger because of it.
Then Derek told me where she’d be tonight. Slayde had mentioned she was with him and Kenny, and I had to come here. Even if she walked away, I had to see her.
Now I’ve said all the things I needed to say. I’ve also seen what I needed to see in her eyes. I saw the desperate pain I feel reflected back at me, and I felt her struggling not to give in. My beautiful girl is fighting me, but s
he’s not going to win. We belong together, and she believes it as much as I do.
This suggestion of schizophrenia is complete and utter bullshit. Some quack doctor gave her grandmother a faulty diagnosis, which the woman was smart enough to ignore. I don’t understand why Mariska believes it. Still, if Slayde is helping her find the truth, I can give her time to realize what I already know. She’s unique and flawless.
She might decide she doesn’t have special gifts, but I’ll never forget the dream I had of her all those nights ago when I was trying to run, trying to get back to the desert. She saved me, and I won’t let her forget it.
I’m turning over these thoughts in my office when Slayde knocks on the open door.
“Hey, come in.” I sit forward in my chair, and he crosses to the desk. “What’s up?”
“Our appointment with Dr. Endicott is at two this afternoon.” He sits in a leather chair. He’s a good man, and he’s on our side, which makes me like him even more.
“What is she hoping to find out?” My hands are clasped in front of me, and I watch him closely.
“Kenny said she wants answers. She wants to know if he believes he was right all that time ago or if he has any doubts. She’s worried stress or even the pregnancy might cause a sudden or unexpected break.” He leans forward resting his forearms on his knees. “I think she feels out of control.”
“Understandable.” I look down at my hands. “It makes sense for her to feel that way. But she’s not mentally ill.”
“Kenny and I feel the same way. Kenny’s worried. Hell, I’m worried about her.”
He looks down, rubbing a hand up and down the ink on his forearm. Slayde was a fighter before he got into trouble and came here. Tattoos cover his arms and neck, and his pale blue eyes burn with intensity under his dark brow. He reminds me of a wolf.
“What can I do?” I’m ready to do anything to protect my girl. I won’t let her down this time.
He stands, going to the door. “I’ll be there. If things seem to be headed in the wrong direction, I’ll do what I can.”
“I appreciate you looking out for her.” My chest burns with frustration at having to sit by helpless, waiting. “If I could be there, I would.”