Dangerous Tides (Drake Sisters 4)

When she'd first come downstairs, she hadn't bothered with the lights, but sat alone in the dark, crying. Restlessness had set in and she'd been unable to remain still, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. Now she felt exhausted with grief.

"Libby," Sarah said gently. "You're wearing yourself out."

"Ty didn't say a single word," Libby burst out. She'd been so determined to be stoic, but now, surrounded by her sisters, she had to tell them how she felt--what she feared. "Not one. Not to me and not to Jackson. He looked so devastated and so alone."

"Here, honey, drink this."

Rather absently, Libby took the cup of tea Hannah handed to her. "Ty put his arm around me, but he was so broken I could feel it. I tried to help him, but he was in shock and nothing I did penetrated enough to comfort him. I've never felt more useless. He lost so much. Everything. And I couldn't help at all." She blinked back tears. "Tyson walked away from me and he didn't look back."

Hannah dropped her hand on Libby's shoulder. "You were in shock yourself, Libby, and you'd just expended a tremendous amount of energy healing your compound fracture. You have to cut yourself a little slack."

"Not to mention fighting for your life," Joley pointed out.

"Thank heaven you taught me that smashing maneuver with the mace that time, Joley," Libby admitted, striving to steady herself. "I never would have gotten away otherwise. I used the flashlight." She took a sip of tea. At once the soothing blend helped to calm her.

She looked around the room suddenly aware of what she had. The true gift she'd been born into. Sarah and Abigail were lighting several aromatic candles. Kate added logs to the fire. Joley dimmed the lights. Elle and Hannah tossed pillows on the floor so they could all lie in their usual circle together. Everything Libby's sisters did was all for her. The house was warm and filled with love. Her sisters had all come together--gotten up at four in the morning just to support her--to make certain she was all right. She was surrounded by love every minute of her existence. Whenever she needed it or wanted it, all she had to do was reach out and any one, or all, of her sisters would be there for her.

Tears filled her eyes. Setting the cup of tea aside, she slipped onto the floor, and put her head down and cried. "It's been a week and he hasn't called me."

"Baby." Sarah stroked her head. Kate and Abbey rubbed her back. "He'll call. He'll sort it all out. You know Tyson. He's a thinker. He has to make it all right in his mind before he comes for you."

"It's just that I have everything that matters. And Ty has nothing. Everywhere I go, whatever I do, I have all of you behind me, supporting me." She touched Joley's hand. "Standing up for me and watching my back. He's never even had parents that understood him or made him feel loved. Sam was his everything, the one person Ty thought loved and cared for him. How can he ever be whole again?" Libby wiped at the tears running down her face. "You should have seen him. Felt him. He was absolutely shattered."

"Libby," Sarah said gently. "Tyson didn't lose everything. He still has you. He has to come to that realization and he has to do it on his own. You're the person who will give him the love and understanding he's never had. You're the person who will stand up for him and watch his back and support him. He hasn't lost everything; it only feels that way right now. But he's a strong man and he'll wake up one morning and know that you're his everything. And he'll come back to you. You have to believe that."

Libby wasn't so sure. Sarah hadn't seen Tyson. She hadn't looked into his eyes or felt his pain. "He didn't even look back at me when he walked away," she whispered. She ducked her head and let herself cry, let the love of her sisters ease the terrible heartache.

Sarah's two guard dogs rushed down the stairs into the living room and whined at the front door. Sarah glanced at Kate, one eyebrow raised. She went to the window to look out. "Libby. There's a man wandering around outside. He looks very lost and alone . . . and very much like Tyson."

Libby jumped to her feet.

"Look for yourself."

Libby rushed to the window, her sisters crowding around her. In the distance, on the path leading to the beach below, a man stood, hands in his pockets, staring out over the ocean. The breath rushed from her lungs. "That's Ty. I have to go to him."

Libby reached out to her sisters and squeezed their hands hard before racing outside. She ran down the walkway leading through the front garden to the courtyard overlooking the beach. She slowed down when she saw him, her heart pounding so hard she pressed her hand to her chest.

Tyson stood looking down at the sea. His tall frame was silhouetted against the sky and his hair blew in the breeze. His profile was to her and in that unguarded moment, she could read the unrelenting sorrow etched so deep into the lines on his face. As if sensing her presence, he turned to face her fully.

Her heart nearly stopped. She'd never seen such naked grief. Waves of anguish, of anger and confusion radiated from him, nearly overwhelming her. He looked utterly defeated, his face ravaged by the pain of his loss, of Sam's betrayal. In the week since she'd seen him, he'd lost weight, and there were deep lines of suffering carved into his face. His eyes were alive with heartbreak and dark with shadows.

Everything she was, the healer, his lover and friend, the woman in her, all responded with such intense compassion, such empathy, she had to fight back tears.

"Libby." He said her name as if it were a talisman.

She went to him and silently wrapped her arms around him. Tyson buried his face against her neck. A shudder ran through him and he gripped her so tightly she knew she'd have bruises later. A sob of anguish tore from his throat. Libby closed her eyes as she felt his tears on her neck.

"I'm here, Ty. I'll always be here," she whispered, her own tears streaming down her face. She held him in her arms and let him cry until he was worn out from his grief.

Tyson straightened, looked around him and blinked at her, as i

f he had no clue how he got there.

"Come on, let's go down to the beach," she urged, knowing he wouldn't want to face her family so ravaged.

Tyson took her hand as they walked side by side, the sand under their feet and clouds drifting overhead. As far as the eye could see, the ocean continued its ceaseless ebb and flow. They walked a mile before he spoke.

"I had nowhere else to go, Libby. The house is gone. Sam is dead. I didn't know what to do. I just stood in the morgue, staring at his body for hours and I didn't know what to do."

The wind touched their faces, ruffled their hair and tugged at their clothing as they continued down the beach. A seagull screamed overhead.

"Why didn't I know? I'm supposed to be a genius, and I didn't know. Didn't guess. He needed help. How could I have been so fucking blind that I missed that?"

She remained silent, knowing he had to be able to talk, to work things out for himself. He wasn't to blame. Sam was a sociopath. No one close to him had known--or guessed. Had Tyson known, he couldn't have done anything about it, no matter how smart he was. Sam had been beyond help.

Tyson stopped abruptly and faced her, both hands raking through his hair in agitation. "I failed him. I didn't see what was right in front of me. I was too busy with my research and I didn't care that he was stealing money from the estate. I never once addressed it with him. I should have, Libby. I didn't think it really mattered, but I should have called him on it. I let things go too far."

She put her hand over his heart in silent sympathy. The empath in her wanted to weep forever. The healer wanted to take it all away. The woman who loved him, let him talk, let him find his own way back. It was one of the most difficult things she'd ever done.

"Sam hired those men to beat him up. Jackson found the men. Sam hired them. My God." He shook his head. "I failed him, Libby. And I could do the same thing to you."

Tyson stared down at her, his mind reeling with the blows he'd taken recently. He'd put her life in danger by his own blindness. All of his life he'd had blinders on and now it was too late, the one man in his life he called family, the one he'd counted on, was dead. He couldn't bear to lose Libby, not out of neglect, not out of stupidity. He was supposed to be a damned genius and yet he'd observed nothing.