The Hero's Redemption
The agony swelled and receded like ocean waves. It stung like salt water did on raw flesh, too. Ever since she’d brought him home with her, she hadn’t felt so alone. She would have sworn a bond had formed. Maybe…maybe she was wrong, and she’d only been using him. If so…she wouldn’t apologize. She’d given everything she could in return. Too much, obviously.
Trying for slow, deep breaths, she asked herself what if, come morning, she found out he’d left? A huge hole seemed to open inside her. She reminded herself that he’d promised to finish the work on the apartment. He couldn’t do that overnight.
Yes, but it might be better if he did just leave. She really didn’t want to see him right now, and saying goodbye would be unimaginably awful. I’m such a fool, she thought, the pain cresting. She’d fallen in love with him, and he’d been looking at her with wariness and contempt all along. Pathetic, lonely woman who imagined she could buy him.
She was more than that. She was.
With a whimper, Erin buried her face in her hands. Why had he pretended to care? Tried to prevent her from going out at night? After the nightmare, spent all those hours holding her with such tenderness Erin couldn’t imagine.
When she lifted her head at last and managed to focus on the microwave clock, she saw that at least half an hour had passed. The hurt had…not dulled. It had left behind an ache, the way a horrible cough left chest muscles feeling strained.
She was mad, too. At herself, at him, at fate, if there was such a thing. She’d lived for this? Maybe tonight she should—No. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d know he was behind her need to ask Death again if she’d really been meant to be spared.
When he’s gone. Then I’ll do it.
* * *
COLE SNAPPED AWAKE on a flood of adrenaline. Had he heard an engine starting up? He lay completely still, listening for any sound. Nothing. He’d imagined it. Or she’d already escaped.
That thought provoked him into getting out of bed and padding to the front window that looked down on the driveway. The dark bulk of the Cherokee was there. Back in his bedroom, he stood staring at the house, also dark. He’d left his window open, in case—
In case what? Erin had another nightmare and needed him? Yeah, think how welcome he’d be.
He kept grappling with what he’d done. He’d dumped on her because…?
It was the only way to keep her from drumming up new jobs for him. Except he’d already asked her not to, and she’d agreed.
He’d needed her to know how much he wanted her. Why?
Feeling as if he’d been ripped open, Cole thought, I had to push her away before… He didn’t want to finish this explanation, but forced himself. Before I broke and made love to her. Before I got in so deep I convinced myself pride wasn’t worth shit.
His shoulders slumped. Nice to know he’d hurt her to save himself. What happened to all his deep thoughts as he lay in his prison bunk—about honor, about being a man who works hard and takes the high road? About becoming the kind of man who never would have been arrested, far less convicted? A man people would have believed?
If he was going to apologize, he had to bare himself. How else could he expect her to understand?
Cole flopped into bed, groaned and laid his arm over his eyes. Tomorrow, no excuses.
There wasn’t a lot left of the night. He dozed on and off, jolting awake often enough to leave him with a pounding headache come morning.
He winced at the sight of himself in the new bathroom mirror, big and brightened by the also-new, four-bulb vanity light fixture above. He looked like crap. The sleeplessness showed in eyes that appeared sunken and skin that seemed tinted gray. The hollows beneath his cheekbones would, in his opinion, remind anyone seeing him that the human face overlaid a skull. And damn, he wished his hair would grow out faster.
His hand seemed to have a faint tremor, too, that made him glad he’d finally bought an electric shaver and didn’t have to risk drawing blood with the straight razor. When he was done, he rinsed and dried his face before eyeing himself again. Shaving hadn’t improved the view. Maybe seeing how bad he looked would soften Erin’s anger.