Page 78 of Desire Me
To her home. She stood in front of it now, staring at the single light on the porch in the winter darkness. Wondering what on earth she would find inside when she opened that door.
“It seems perfect for you,” Saint said quietly beside her, staring at the house as well.
“Do you truly mean that?” Her house was, after all, no more than a “quaint craftsman,” tiny in comparison to his big house in the middle of a large, rolling meadow back in Atlanta.
“Absolutely.”
There was nothing but warm honesty in his voice. And she had to admit, staring at the tiny yellow and white house, she agreed. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his house, wouldn’t mind living in it someday if it came to that, if he truly wanted her to, but the two-room cottage waiting on this quiet street in the sea-soaked town where she’d lived all her life did feel like home.
She’d grown up right here; she remembered that much, in a very similar cottage just yards down the street. Not all her memories had returned, but she was getting there, and what she did remember made her feel anchored for the first time in too many months to consider. Especially given the unraveling her family had endured in the past day. They’d never be the same, but here, on this little street, in this small house she’d made her home, she had a tether.
The front door opened suddenly, and Rae jumped, shocked. A tall man in his early twenties stepped onto the porch, his dark hair swept back from a high forehead, his brown eyes intent as if trying to see through the dark. Nathan.
Her heart squeezed, stopping her breath.
Her cousin descended the front stairs.
When he didn’t stop but continued until he was halfway down the sidewalk, she couldn’t wait any longer—her steps took her to meet him, stopping within arms’ reach, her gaze devouring every feature, every nuance of his expression, every indication that he was here, safe, whole. Everything she’d fought for, for the past six months.
But could he forgive her?
Finally he spoke, his breath becoming white mist in the cold. “Christian and Stephen aren’t here.”
Tears filled her eyes, a single drop escaping down her cheek. Not what she’d wanted, but… “I understand.”
“Do you?”
She jerked at the question, at the anger beneath it. Saint growled behind her.
Nate glanced Saint’s way, gaze just as intent as it had been on Rae, pushing beneath the surface to uncover… she wasn’t sure what… before returning his focus to her. “They’re at the morgue.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest moment. More tears fell. “Nate…”
“If you want to blame someone—”
Sudden fury flashed across Nate’s face, and he cut Saint off. “You’re damn right I do. I just lost my father. I want to blame the whole damn world.” That sharp gaze returned to Rae, and she watched him struggle for control, struggle to dampen the fire of his rage with something calmer. “But I know, no matter what’s happened the past few months, that I can’t blame you, Rae. The sheriff told us what happened, what Dad did. I can’t—” He choked, seeming to struggle for breath. “I can’t quite believe it, but I know this was his fault, not yours.”
Rae sagged in relief. Nate wasn’t completely accepting—his struggle to be reasonable told her that much, and maybe her absence, an absence they’d all thought meant she’d abandoned them, was to blame for some of that—but she didn’t think she could stand to lose her cousins on top of her uncle’s betrayal. Hopefully time and explanations could take them the rest of the way.
“I only ran to protect you all. Francis too.” For all the good it had done. Greed had destroyed any sense of honor her uncle had possessed.
Nate nodded, although tension still knotted his muscles. “The FBI agent that was with Sheriff Burroughs when he notified us explained that. Or tried to. I’m not sure I understand totally, but I don’t think now is the time for details.”
“Now is definitely the time for you to know she almost died trying to protect you, her family,” Saint insisted. “A hit-and-run while Di Angelo’s men were attempting to kidnap her, and not for the first time. Traumatic brain injury. Complete amnesia, Nathan.” He emphasized every word. “Do you understand that?”
She knew what Saint was doing: protecting her. Putting himself in front of her, taking the brunt of the blows to keep her safe, whether that was her body or her heart. And right at that moment her heart was turning over with love for the man standing beside her. Yes, love. She’d been too afraid to admit it before, but now, with all that had happened, she knew love wasn’t anything to fear. Not real, honest love. The kind she saw in Saint’s eyes every time he looked at her. She loved her cousins, but in a much, much deeper way than she’d ever thought possible, she loved Saint. Whatever the future held, she loved him.
“Are you the man that killed my father?” Nate asked.
Rae gasped. “He didn’t—”
“Someone did.” Nate’s shoulders hunched. “You expect me to believe he fell off the top of Vernon’s tractor trailer? The man spent his entire life on boats on open water; he was more sure-footed than a cat. No way he fell.”
She didn’t know what to tell him. He was right; they both knew it. But she wouldn’t risk revealing Luka’s involvement to anyone after he’d saved their lives, not even Nate.
“He fell,” Saint assured her cousin. “I watched it happen. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, and your father has made plenty of them lately.” Saint leaned forward, right into Nate’s space. “But make no mistake; I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him if I’d had the opportunity. He tried to murder my woman. I would die for her. I sure as fuck would kill for her.”
Nate stared for a long moment into Saint’s eyes, sizing him up, coming to his own conclusions, and though tears gathered behind the anger in his eyes, he finally gave Saint a reluctant nod. “As much as what they claim my father did is hard to believe—”
