All of Me (Confessions of the Heart 2)

The two collided.

Turmoil that clashed in the center of my chest.

I wanted it . . . so badly . . . to permanently remove my children from Reed’s control. And I realized I was conceding to that fate, believing that would be the only way for me to maintain custody of my children.

To share them.

But that meant Reed having influence on them, too.

That meant telling them goodbye each week and seeing the fear and questions and sadness in their expressions.

Ian sat completely still, all except for those eyes that were flickering across my face, as if he were watching all of those exact fears play through my mind.

My own questions, and my own sadness.

And I realized my children and I were just passing that back and forth to each other. Each time they left and returned, it only grew.

“He’s dangerous.” Ian’s jaw clenched, and I froze, watching the way the chiseled stone of his face hardened more.

“How do you know that?” Of course, I knew that. He was a man capable of doing wicked, horrible things. It was the reason I’d left. It was the sudden urgency coming from Ian that had me shaken. “Did . . . did you find something out? Do you have proof?”

“I don’t have solid proof yet. But I will find something. The only thing I’m going on right now is my gut, plus what Thomas confided in me. That’s big.”

Something flashed through Ian’s eyes.

A vulnerability unlike anything I’d ever witnessed in him before. I searched the depths, silently begging him to let me in, when the best thing for both of us would be for him to keep me out.

But I wanted to know him. To hold him a little in the way he was holding me.

“I . . .” His voice cracked as he struggled to find the words, and he pinched his eyes as if he couldn’t look at me when he admitted them. “I lived in fear my entire childhood, Grace. I never knew when I’d be hugged or when I’d be hit. I never knew who would protect me and who would hurt me. I don’t want that. Not for them.”

Horror locked in my throat. I slowly rinsed his hair, my fingers threading through the soft, soft locks, my own words wobbling as I released them from my throat. “I’m so sorry, Ian. I’m so sorry you went through that.”

His teeth ground, and I could feel his breaths turn ragged.

All I could picture were the scars littering his skin, covered with shadows and ink.

Gaze opening to me, he reached up and grabbed me by the wrist. “I told you not to pity me.”

My voice turned so shallow I could barely speak. “I don’t pity you, Ian. I’m in awe of you. Of who you are and who you became.”

His eyes squeezed closed again. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done horrible things.”

I turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel, tenderly rubbing it over his head, my face so close to his that our noses were touching when I quietly said, “You were only trying to survive, doing the best you could. I don’t know your whole story, Ian, but I know you are good underneath it all. I see it.”

My mouth fell to the shell of his ear. “I’ve felt it.”

A shudder rolled through him, and I could feel the pain emanating from his spirit. Something old and hidden ripping free. But it was anger that came tearing from his mouth like a curse. “My mother . . . she was a junkie and prostitute. I have no idea who my father even was.”

Grief.

It streaked through me.

A thunderbolt.

Rending me in two.

Instantly, my mind was back on the confession I’d made to him in his office. He was the first person I’d ever told that I suspected Reed was involved with illicit things. Taking women because he could afford to buy them.

It left something sour on my tongue.

I could almost sense Ian as a child, a sweet, sweet boy who’d been shaped and molded and formed into a hardened man.

A deep-seated realization crashed over me.

This was why he thought of children has a burden. As too great a risk.

“I would never neglect my children.” I was almost begging him to believe me when I said it.

Emotion twisted through his expression, anger and hurt and fear. Gruff words breezed across my face. “Sometimes, it’s already happening before someone realizes it’s too late.”

“It’s okay to love her and be angry with her for the way you were raised.” I knew I was going a direction I shouldn’t go.

Tumbling.

Tumbling.

But I couldn’t stop, wanting to hold the grief that thundered through his veins and thrashed in his spirit.

He barely shook his head, fighting opening up. “I did love her. So much, Grace. So much. And I failed her.”