It didn’t help that Colm was wrong.
He didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know what he was asking her to do. It was dangerous, so dangerous. Didn’t he remember how broken she was? Didn’t he realize she’d been cracked in two? Her skull fractured, bones snapped, lungs collapsed. “It’s time to let me go, Colm.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Colm, please.”
“Ever.”
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. For a moment everything just spun and her stomach heaved. She drew one short breath after another. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing. But it’s not the right thing, not if it hurts Jack.”
“Ava, he’s asking questions.”
“Then answer them,” she said huskily. “Tell him what you’ve always told him—Mommy’s sick. Mommy loves you but she can’t take care of you.”
The silence was thick and heavy, so heavy that Ava finally looked up at Colm. His blue-green gaze had lost all warmth, the depths now glacier cold.
“I’m not going to tell Jack that. I’m not going to lie to him.”
“It’s not a lie!”
“It is. Because you can take care of him. I know you can, and it’s time you did.”
She flinched, stung by his tone, but not entirely surprised. This was the tone he’d used with her at the beginning of her recovery. These were the same words, the same voice, the same relentless attitude. He wouldn’t let her quit. Wouldn’t accept her exhaustion or her tears of pain. Ignoring her protests, he crouched in front of her and strapped the braces on her legs, stood her up at the bars, and insisted she walk. I know you, he said, each time, every time, I know you can do this.
And that was how her rehab went. He coached her, pushed her, encouraged her, one day at a time. One foot in front of the other. Over and over and over.
Until the day he stopped coming.
The day he disappeared from her life was nearly as bad as the accident. The loss had hit her so hard, and she’d been so vulnerable, so physically and emotionally fragile.
“You’re not being practical,” she said lowly. “We have to remember my limitations—”
“What crap!”
“It’s true,” she doggedly continued. “The doctors said—”
“They’re wrong,” he interrupted again, his voice rough with emotion. “They’re wrong on this, Ava. I don’t believe in limitations. And, dammit, neither do you.” His voice dropped. “You can’t, not when Jack needs you so much.”
Her eyes closed at the shaft of pain. Jack had been her motivation. Jack had been the reason she could endure the grueling months of physical and speech therapy even after Colm stopped coming to see her.
She was determined she’d get her baby back. She’d be part of his life again. She so badly wanted to be a good mother. But her attempt to reconcile with two year old Jack had been a disaster. First, she’d scared him with her leg braces and walker, and then just when he’d come to terms with her disability, she’d taken him out in the stroller, she’d walked him to a shopping center…
And left him there.
Why?
What kind of woman did such a thing? What was wrong with her? What had she been thinking?
But in the end, the motivation didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she’d taken him from his home and abandoned him in a shopping center and then wandered away herself.
She was not a well woman. She was not to be trusted. Ever.
“Then find him a good mother,” Ava whispered, her voice flat, devoid of all emotion.
It’d been over a year since that awful day but she’d had thirteen months to examine her heart and the painful soul-searching had made her realize that Jack deserved better. Jack deserved a mother who could properly care for him. A mother who could run and play and make his life easier, not harder.
Colm broke the silence. “You don’t mean that.”
God, he knew her so well. Colm was right, of course. She didn’t want anyone to take her place, didn’t want to be replaced, and while she’d given up her braces and walker, there were still many things she found difficult to do.
“You can’t give up,” he added, after a moment, his deep voice sliding down her spine.
She ducked her head.
“You’ve made great strides, Ava. You’ve come back from the dead.” He turned her chair, forcing her to face him.
There was something in his eyes and expression that seemed to strip her bare. She felt naked. Frightened. “I am not what I was before. Nor will I ever be her again.”
He held her gaze, the bright blue depths scorching her. “So what do you want us to do? Bury you? Forget you? Act like you’re dead?” He ground the words out, angry, and frustrated.
Ava could feel his tension, his energy palpable, practically pulsing within her, matching her heartbeat.
He swore. Violently. “Nothing is more important than our son.”
“I will hurt him!”
“You will not. I won’t let that happen.” His gaze locked with hers, his features hard and fierce. “I promise you that, Ava.”
He was a beautiful man, and angry, he looked intimidating. He was a Celtic warrior and he’d brought her to his kingdom, determined to conquer.
And he would conquer her, if she wasn’t careful. He’d break her. There’d be nothing left of her when he was done.
“I love Jack, and yes, I would love to still be part of his life if I knew I wouldn’t hurt him, but you…” She dragged in a breath, as angry with him as he was with her. “You are another story. You have no say over me. I will not allow you to dictate to me or trying to control me. Once, we were lovers, but that was a long, long time ago!”
Chapter Nine
‡
She pushed away from the table and took a panicked step backwards, bumping her chair hard enough to send pain shooting through her hip. Tears filled her eyes and she whimpered in protest.
Colm was on his feet, too, and she threw her hands up. “Don’t touch me,” she cried. “Don’t come near me! I’ve had enough of you. I want to go. I want to return to the villa now.”
“We’re in the middle of the sea, Ava. We won’t back at the villa until later this afternoon.”
Her hip throbbed and her head had begun to ache. She rubbed at her temple, trying to ease the thumping, trying to calm down. Intense emotions brought on the headaches. She didn’t need a migraine now.
Colm’s brows pulled. He scrutinized her face. “Your head?”
“It’ll be okay.” She struggled to smile but couldn’t.
He stretched a hand out to brush a fine dark tendril of hair back from her brow, his fingers soothing against her temple. “Let’s go find some shade. Get you something cool to drink. Do you need a tablet for the pain?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just not argue anymore. I hate fighting with you.”
“And I hate fighting with you. So let’s change into our swim suits and relax, because, in another twenty minutes, we’ll be anchoring at a spot where we’ll swim and snorkel and see the most amazing fish.”
Swimming and snorkeling proved to be the perfect distraction. Ava loved the water, and today she was the one begging to stay out and swim a little longer, and snorkel a little more. They splashed about for over an hour and then returned to the yacht for lunch, and then jumped back in for a second round of snorkeling.
Now they were sunbathing on the deck while the yacht ferried them to St. Barts’ Lorient Bay.
Ava was lying on her back on a lounge chair, eyes closed, straw hat shading her eyes while she soaked up bright, hot rays. She was sleepy and relaxed, the kind of lazy pleasure one felt after exercising and taking in the sun. It’d been a week since she’d really exercised and she felt calmer than she had in days. She so enjoyed swimming. She needed to remember this.
“I wish I had my notebook,” she said, breaking the companionable silence.
“What would you write down?” Colm
asked, his deep voice raspy. He, too, was drowsy from the sun.
She turned her head and peeked at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He was on a lounge chair just a foot away, filling it completely. He had a magnificent body. It all started with his height and those massive shoulders, and then there was that thickly muscled chest, the narrow waist and hips and long, strong legs. A work of art.
“I’d remind myself to swim more, and play more. I’d say that snorkeling today off your yacht was the most fun I’ve had in….oh, forever.”
“We should do this more often.”
“Snorkel?”