First Time in Forever (Puffin Island 1)

He gave her a long look that brought the blood rushing back to her cheeks more effectively than any medical intervention. “You finally have some color.”

And he was responsible for the color.

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For drowning you in emotion.” Now that the sharp edge of fear had passed, she felt deeply embarrassed. First she’d had a meltdown, and then she’d spilled confidences she usually kept locked deep inside. “Most men hate emotion like they hate throw pillows and scented candles.”

“I’m not a lover of throw pillows, but I’m not afraid of emotions. They tell you more about a person than hours of conversation.”

“If that’s true, then by now you’re thinking I’m a hysterical neurotic.”

“If I told you what I really thought, you’d kick me out.” Leaving her to ponder on that, he walked into the kitchen and returned a moment later carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

She wanted to ask him what he really thought but wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m where I want to be.” He sat on the sofa next to her and put the bottle and the glasses on the floor. “Talk to me.”

“Sorry?”

“Tell me what happened.”

The breath left her lungs in a rush. “I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe not usually, but tonight you’re going to talk about it.” He poured wine into a glass and handed it to her. “Tell me about your sister.” Another man would have tiptoed around the subject. Not him.

“That isn’t a very sensitive question.”

“This morning you had a full-blown panic attack. I virtually had to peel you off the ground. It would help me to know what happened, so that I can help make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I was with Neil for three years and he never asked for the details.”

Sympathy turned to incredulous disbelief. “Never?”

“He respected boundaries.”

“I’m starting to understand why you don’t feel the need for rebound sex. You can only rebound from something with substance. And I’m not respecting boundaries, so talk to me.”

Her hand shook, and the wine almost sloshed over the top of the glass. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” He eased the glass out of her hand and set it down on the floor. Polished floorboards gleamed in the late evening sun, and through the open window she could hear the relentless sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

“Why?”

“Because I’m absolutely sure you didn’t kill her.” He reached out and pulled her into the curve of his arm so that her body was pressed against the hardness of his.

She didn’t consider herself a tactile person. She and Neil had often sat on separate sofas, facing each other, disconnected, as if occupying different worlds. In some ways they’d lived parallel lives.

It was true that she’d never talked to Neil about her past, but it was also true that he’d never asked. And she realized now that he hadn’t wanted to know. He’d talked about respecting boundaries, but what he’d really meant was that he didn’t want to deal with emotion.

If Neil had found himself in this position, he would have floundered, both with her emotions and with the child. Ryan had handled both without missing a beat.

“There isn’t a happy ending to this, Ryan.”

“Yeah, well, we both know life is full of messy endings. Tell me about your sister.”

“I was four when she was born. My earliest memory was holding her because my mother was drunk on the sofa. I remember looking down at her and promising that I was always going to take care of her.”