Heart And Soul (Angel Sands 8)

And Meghan wouldn’t be trying to pick up the pieces of her life right now.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way she’d looked up at him with that soft expression, willing him to say something to make this better. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t open himself up the way Harper and Belle had urged him to. His chest was so damn painful already, he couldn’t add to it. The only thing he could do was pull up the shutters around his heart and curl in the corner like a wounded animal.

When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were fractured and jittery. At one point he was nineteen again, walking into that hospital, escorted by the cops who’d come to his college to inform him that his parents were dead. As he walked into the hospital room, he felt his heart ache at the sight of his sister bandaged and plastered, her face obscured by an oxygen mask. And then he blinked and it wasn’t Belle. It was Isla, her body crumpled and broken because of his decisions. Her eyes opened and her gaze landed on him, and he could feel nothing but his own heart breaking.

A tear rolled down her cheek and he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

When he woke, he was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, his breath stuttering as his lungs attempted to get more oxygen into his body. What the hell was that? It had been years since he’d had that dream.

And now it was back, with a goddamned twist.

The alarm clock at the side of his bed told him it was eleven on Sunday morning. He dragged himself out of the rumpled covers, rolling his shoulders because they ached from all his tossing and turning, and walked over to his bathroom to step into the shower.

The water was strong and hot, steam filling the bathroom, but it did nothing to soothe his aching soul. He had hours before he was due to work. Time he needed to fill so he didn’t have to think about Isla and Meghan and how he’d broken his sister all those years ago.

He’d go for that run, then he’d drive to James and Harper’s, or maybe to Belle’s house. Anything to get himself away from here. It only took him a few minutes to pull his gym gear on, sliding his feet into his battered sneakers, before grabbing his keys. The hallway was thankfully empty, and he walked to the elevator, pressing the button as he side eyed Meghan’s apartment.

The elevator arrived quicker than he’d expected. The doors slid open and he went to walk inside, but then he saw them.

Isla was standing between Meghan and Dylan, a huge grin pulling at her lips. And in front of them was that huge security guard who’d been at the gallery and in Meghan’s apartment.

“Rich!” Isla said, poking her head past the guard. “Guess what? This is my daddy.” She pulled her hands away from Meghan and Dylan, and started to run toward him, but her progress was halted when the guard put a hand on her shoulder.

The smile melted from her lips, and she turned to look at the guard. Rich tensed. All he wanted to do was get that guard’s goddamned hands off Isla. All her excitement and happiness seemed to have leached away.

“It’s okay,” Dylan said, his eyes flickering to Rich’s. “Ger just needs to check the hall before we walk out.”

Isla nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. Rich wanted to hit something.

“Clear,” Ger said, nodding his head to Dylan. “Sorry, kid. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I’m sorry.” Isla’s lip wobbled. “Mommy always tells me not to run.”

Rich opened his mouth to tell her it was okay. To console her.

“No worries, sweetheart,” Dylan said, before Rich could form the words. “We’re being overprotective.” He glanced at Ger. “Tone it down,” he mouthed. Ger nodded.

The three of them stepped out of the elevator, and Rich moved to let them through. Isla looked up at him, her eyes still shiny.

“Are you coming to L.A with us?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “No.”

“But there’s a swimming pool. We can play sharks.”

Meghan was watching them silently. The guard was already at her door, unlocking it. So he had a key? Things had changed so much in a few hours.

“I have to work.” His throat felt congested. “But you’ll have a great time.”

He could feel the heat of Meghan’s gaze on his skin. But he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He really was an asshole, but he had no idea what to say. How to make this better.

So he’d do what he always did. Withdraw until he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“Sweetie, can you go in the apartment with Dylan and Ger? I need to talk to Rich about something,” Meghan said, her clear voice echoing through the hallway.

“I’m on my way out,” Rich said. There was no way he wanted to talk to her. He didn’t trust himself not to get hurt all over again.

“It won’t take long.” Meghan glanced at Isla, who was staring up at them with interest. “I just want to talk to you about Gloria. Make sure she’s taken care of while we’re away.”