“You always did try to one-up me.”
She expertly cast her line into the water. “That’s because you stop digging as soon as you find them. I keep looking until I find the one I want.”
Tate cast his own line. “I hope you do that with men, too.”
Chapter 18
Sutton stared out at the rainy day, feeling as if she were about to climb the walls. Knox had stopped by the night before to tell them forensics should be back on the bullets today. If they came back that they were from the same gun, then he would officially clear Tate. That meant he would be going home either tonight or in the morning.
She put her hands in the back pocket of her cut-offs, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, counting to herself. Her counselor had told her it would ease anxiety from a stressful situation. It wasn’t working. Her mind was debating why she should or shouldn’t sleep with Tate.
Beginning a new relationship frightened the hell out of her, especially one that hadn’t ended well the first time. He was being so gentle and attentive to her. She wanted to rub against him and beg him to fuck her. On the other hand, she had hated having sex with Scott. She had naively saved her virginity for the man she had planned to marry. Then, when she’d had sex with him, it had been the biggest let-down she had ever experienced. To be fair, she’d so looked forward to being with Tate that she didn’t know if any man could have lived up to the expectations she set.
Her wedding night had been spent with Scott getting drunk at their wedding. In the hotel room, she had found herself on the bed with her wedding dress pulled up to her hips. It had been over before she had realized it had begun. If she hadn’t felt the pain of his entry, she would have never known she’d had sex.
It had gotten steadily worse each and every time. She had tried everything to psych herself into making it a more enjoyable experience. It had taken the first beating Scott had given her to admit that she had made a mistake. She had blamed herself for the beatings, believing her lack of desire had driven him to act out in frustration.
The counselor had tried to convince her it was Scott, who had made no effort to arouse her, he had been the problem. Sutton had tried to convince herself over and over, but she knew the truth buried deep in her heart. She had never stopped loving Tate, so every time she’d had sex with Scott, she felt she was betraying that love.
Her finger drew a line down the foggy window.
“Want to watch some television?”
She didn’t turn around when she heard Tate come into the room.
“No,” she answered.
“Cards?”
“No.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“I want you to leave me alone. Can I have some peace and quiet?”
“All you had to do was ask.” His quiet voice had her jerking around.
“I’m asking. Okay?” She started to walk by him but he stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Tate. I just want to be alone.” Sutton ran her hand through her hair, dislodging the rubber band that held her hair back. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders.
“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t.” He moved to the side to let her pass.
“Quit pacifying me as if I’m a damn child.”
“Then quit acting like one,” he snapped.
She wanted to hit out at him so badly she physically shook. She had to get out of the house, or she would do something she would regret. She turned on her heel, running out the front door as if the cabin was on fire.
“Sutton, it’s raining!”
“Leave me alone!” she screamed back, taking off running, tears falling from her eyes that she couldn’t hold back.
She didn’t know how long she had run until she came to the tree Tate had found her at the last time she had taken off. Her arm circled the tree as she leaned against it, crying. If she had stayed, she would have begged him to make love to her, and she knew Tate well enough that he wouldn’t let her go if she had. She wouldn’t survive if they didn’t make it this time around.
She stayed there until she was able to think straight, trying to figure out what would be the best decision for her. Not Tate or anyone else, just her.
Did she want Tate? Did she want him temporarily or just for the night? One question led to others just as difficult to answer. All the thinking she had been doing hadn’t resolved anything, and she was cold and wet. The rain had plastered her hair to her head and drenched her clothes until her T-shirt and shorts clung to her body.