More of You (Confessions of the Heart 1)

The hardest part was I had this overwhelming urge to take possession of my life. To pick up the shattered pieces and splice them back together. To find my strength in the midst of all the turmoil.

But how could I do that when I could feel danger lurking all around us? Dragging us into darkness when all I wanted was to reach for the light.

For safety and joy.

Heart still beating wild, my feet inched across the worn, hard planks of my bedroom floor, senses set to high alert.

Awareness prickled across my damp flesh.

But I wasn’t afraid the way I’d been last night.

No, instead I was finding some sort of comfort in the disorder.

A fool who found security in the danger.

I edged toward the window that I’d already checked twice to make sure was locked. Off to the side of it, I pulled back the drape so I could peer into the night.

I sucked in a breath that didn’t seem to have anywhere to go. My heart took off at a sprint, part of me filling right up with indignant fury.

How could he?

How could he?

Though there was a stupid part of me that was thankful someone was watchin’ after us.

Gulping down the unease, I grabbed the short robe from where it hung on the back of a chair and pulled it on, quickly tying the knot.

My door was wide open, the same as Bailey’s so I could hear her if she needed me. I glanced into her room, my child again soundly asleep, unaware of the disturbance as I tiptoed across the creaking floors.

As quietly as I could, I moved down the sweeping, curved staircase, the house massive and dark.

Ominous at this time of night. Maybe it’d been all along.

Heart a thunder knocking at my ribs, I worked through the locks on the double doors, not even sure what it was that I was doing. Why I felt compelled to step out into the night.

Toward him when I should be running in tacklinthe opposite direction.

Away from the man who had destroyed me in a way that only he could. The only one who’d ever had the power to desolate me because he’d been the only one I’d ever completely given myself to.

And I hated it.

Hated that he still had that control.

The control to make me quiver and shake and question everything I thought I knew.

Pulling open the door, I stepped out onto the wrap-around porch, hugging the robe tighter around my body, wishing it was a thousand layers of protection.

A guard against my heart that beat a frenzy at the center of my chest.

Outside, the night was heavy, bugs trillin’ in the massive trees that were hugged by the droning night. The ancient oaks lined the long, dirt drive, their branches covered in moss and stretched out like craggy arms to shelter the road.

I eased a step forward and lifted my chin in a stance of intimidation while, on the inside, I wasn’t feeling close to brave.

I stared at the outline of the man who stood at the end of the tree-lined road.

As if he’d been there all along.

Waiting.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I wondered if I was hallucinating. Part of me praying that I was. That he’d never stepped foot back in this town.

When I opened them, there he was, moving forward, his steps slow yet somehow powerful and purposed.

He’d always moved that way.

His presence profound.

Hitting me with the force of a bolt of lightning. As if I were standing right at the edge of a moment that would change everything.

The first time I’d seen him, I was sure the boy was there to be revered, completely unattainable, shrouded in some kind of dark mystery, while the town called him trash.

They’d whispered that he wasn’t worthy, when I’d known in my heart of hearts that he’d been worth everything.

Every risk.

Except right then, I was wishin’ that I’d never taken it.

His intensity mounted and mounted with each step that he took.

Energy thrashed through the air, binding to the humidity.

My pulse went thready beneath the pressure, knees shaking as if I’d seen a ghost.

But that was what these walls had always held.

Ghosts and secrets and scandals.

I’d always been drawn to the beauty of it. Romanticizing this place. I guessed it’d been all too easy to fall in love under the shadow of it.

He stopped at the bottom of the five steps that led up to the porch.

Those hands stuffed in his pockets again. His hair that had been styled earlier had been tussled and mussed, no doubt the victim of those restless, big hands.

My breaths turned jagged as he stood there staring up at me, those eyes glinting beneath the moonlight.

His teeth clamped down on his lush bottom lip as he looked around the old, dilapidated plantation, expression intense, as if he were reaching out to caress a memory.