Hard as Rock (The Rock Star's Seduction 3)

Or a man with a gun.

I’d also never seen Derek get pushed to the edge of physical violence, but I could tell from the vicious scowl on his face and the way he squared his shoulders that that’s exactly where he was headed in less than three seconds.

And I knew that if I didn’t do something, there would be a body on the ground in less than five.

“STOP!” I screamed, and ran down the steps into the rain, past Ryan, and threw my arms around Derek’s neck.

The scowl left his face, and he looked down at me with the most heartbreaking combination of sorrow and joy.

“Kaitlyn,” he whispered. His breath reeked of whiskey.

I felt his arms circle around me, warm against the soaking coldness of the rain.

He leaned down to kiss me –

I pulled away from him. Just an inch or two, but it was enough.

He stopped and looked at me. First shock played over his face. Then hurt, like I had crushed him… and then anger.

Ryan saw it, too.

“Derek – ” he said in a warning voice as his feet sloshed through the mud.

“Ryan, no,” I said. “I’ll handle this.”

I heard the sloshing stop. There must have been some sort of silent communication behind my back – perhaps a glance on Ryan’s part – because Mr. MacCruder moved his rifle to the side, so that neither Derek nor I were in danger of being shot.

Although I noticed he didn’t lower it.

Derek’s anger passed as quickly as the shock and hurt, and he whispered, “I’m sorry… Kaitlyn, I’m so sorry…”

For the first time I noticed how gaunt he looked, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. There were dark circles under his eyes that weren’t just shadows from the floodlights.

“I fucked up,” he said, no louder than a sigh. “I know I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry… please… please, just take me back… give me a chance to make it up to you…”

Raindrops were running down his cheeks, making him look like he was crying.

I put my hand to his face. My thumb brushed across his cheek – and I realized that the raindrops were hot.

They were tears.

He

was

crying.

I started crying, too. All the pain I’d tried to bury over the last two weeks – all the agonizing feelings I had told myself I’d dealt with, that were no longer there – erupted from beneath the surface. I felt all the betrayal, all the loss, all the longing in one single burst, like someone slicing a razor blade across my heart.

“We can’t,” I sobbed.

He seemed confused. “What?”

“We can’t,” I cried. “Not now. We…

I

can’t. I can’t forgive you. Not just like that.”

“But… Kaitlyn…” he whispered, his eyes looking completely lost and alone. “I love you.”

That almost killed me.

To hear it now, finally, after everything that had happened.

I wanted to say it back… but for some reason, I couldn’t.

“You have to go now,” I said. “We’ll talk. But not now. You have to let me heal.”

He shook his head. “No – Kaitlyn, all you have to do is just give me a chance –

just give me a chance –

”

“You have to go,” I sobbed, and I broke away from him and stumbled blindly towards the house, wailing in pain.

But my feet caught in the mud, and suddenly I was falling –

Ryan caught me in his arms.

He pulled me back onto my feet, and pushed me gently towards the house with one hand on my back.

Stupidly, though, I turned back to see. Like Lot’s wife in the Bible.

We all know what happened to her.

“KAITLYN!” Derek screamed and stepped forward, crazed like an animal, trying to push Ryan aside to get to me –

But Ryan was ready for him, and shoved him back.

Derek stumbled backwards through the mud – but miraculously he didn’t go down. Instead, he became enraged. He focused on Ryan’s face and he hunkered lower, like a bull about to charge –

“Ahuh,” Mr. MacCruder cleared his throat, and we all looked around to see him pointing the rifle at Derek again.

Everyone stood there, fixed and immobile in the rushing downpour of the rain, waiting to see who would make the first move towards tragedy.

It was Derek – but it wasn’t the move I expected.

He looked up at me on the porch and screamed like a dying animal, “Kaitlyn! Don’t walk out on me again!”

That one sentence –

Don’t walk out on me again! –

was enough to wipe away all my tearful weakness and trigger every bit of anger and hatred I had for him.

“You deserved it!” I shouted. “You cheated on me!”

He looked confused, and then he shook his head sadly, like he was heartbroken. “Not then… not then. Four years ago. You walked out on

me

, Kaitlyn.

You walked out on ME.”

He couldn’t have hit me harder if he’d punched me in the face.

All the guilt and shame and sadness and loss I felt when I drove away from him that morning four years ago rose up and swallowed me like a tidal wave. I burst into tears and stumbled into the house.