Under the Boardwalk (Costas Sisters 1)

He drew a deep breath. Apparently even a cop needed courage every now and again. “I admire that about you. Even if I don’t want you to go.”

She sucked in a breath, visibly shaken by the admission. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Now, that’s insulting. You think I don’t know how I feel about you?” He kept his hands in his pockets, refusing to give in to the impulse to shake her until she understood. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you probably since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he said, raising his voice in frustration.

“And that’s the problem. From the minute you laid eyes on me, I haven’t been me!” Her eyes flashed indignant sparks. “First I was a watered-down version of my sister, and then I was pretending to have the hots for you in public, hoping that Maria would see I didn’t have designs on Connor, so she’d confide in me about Zoe. And since the feelings were real and you wanted me, too, you seemed to like that side of me. So you took me out and coaxed the sultry side even more. But that woman isn’t me,” she said, finally finished and out of breath.

He heard her but he didn’t believe the bull she was dishing out. Quinn ran a hand through his hair. The harder he tried to reach her, the deeper into her old self she withdrew. Obviously the fear of being Ari, of being like her family, was stronger and more overwhelming than her feelings for him.

History had a way of repeating itself, and his mother had chosen drugs over him, all the while claiming to love him. So he knew too well that once something stronger than love had a hold on a person, it was nearly impossible to break.

But Ari and the life and the future they could share was worth one more try. “I understand the distinction between Ariana and Ari,” he said slowly. “Ariana is the woman I met on the beach in the conservative suit, the woman who ‘serpentined’ last week and the woman who saved my ass today. She’s the woman I love.”

Ari shook her head, finding his words impossible to believe. How could he make the distinction between the two parts of her when she couldn’t? How could he claim to know her when she’d yet to completely find and understand herself?

She pushed aside the voice in her head that begged her to listen to Quinn, to listen to her heart. Because if she accepted his words as truth, if she embraced Ari, it would be the same thing as admitting she’d willingly given up five whole years of her life, spending it in Vermont far from family and friends in order to be someone entirely different from them.

It would mean not that she was afraid to see them more clearly, but that she was afraid to let them see the real her. Afraid that even if she tried to fit in, she wouldn’t be able to do it. And where would that leave her now?

“I have to go.” She turned and started for the door, but he stopped her with a simple touch on the shoulder.

“If you care about me, don’t run anymore.”

She faced him, her entire body trembling. “That isn’t what I’m doing. I’m just being realistic. I’m saving you the disappointment of seeing the real me later on.” Tears filled her eyes, confusion and fear still holding her back. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am. Because I figured you for many things, a beautiful woman with many facets to her personality, one I could spend the rest of my life getting to know. But I never once figured you for a coward.”

Then I guess you figured wrong, Detective Donovan, Ari thought as she pivoted and ran for the exit.

* * *

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d completed the job and had put in for a department transfer, or maybe it had more to do with Maria and the unsettled state of his relationship. But for many reasons, Connor was antsy. He’d come to Quinn’s beach house to hang out, but his friend was withdrawn and morose, not providing much in the way of help or company. So while Quinn sat on the couch and stared out the window, Connor paced the floor, unable to sit still.

“What is it with women?” Connor asked at last. “They say they want truthfulness and honesty, yet when you give it to them, they want nothing to do with you.” He still cringed every time he thought about his last talk with Maria, the night the Damon case had gone down.

“Beats me,” Quinn muttered.

“For weeks, Maria wanted to know everything about me. All the while we worked on the case, even after we got close, she sensed I was holding back. ‘Talk to me,’ she said. But I couldn’t.”