Preston's Honor(87)

“I know. I will, too.” Tears filled my eyes, but they didn’t fall. “I don’t think Cole meant to hurt you. He just never took anything very seriously. I used to think that the two of you were such opposites. Cole never took anything seriously enough and you took things too seriously. He didn’t have enough honor, and you would kill yourself to keep your word.” I gave him a smile that felt sad when his eyes met mine.

“He cared about you, though, Lia. You might have been the only girl he ever really did care about.”

I tilted my head, considering that. “Yes, he did care about me, but like a sister. I think he would have come to realize that, too. Most of the time we spent together, we’d end up talking. He was protective of me, but not passionate for me. It was never like that with us. He wanted to protect my virtue, but he never really staked a claim of his own.” Cole had turned into a gentleman when he kissed me, and Preston had turned into a marauder. There was nothing wrong with a gentleman, but I didn’t think it was necessarily Cole’s true nature that brought out that reaction, but rather his lack of passion for me. Frankly, though it had hurt me on occasion, I wanted the fiery lust that Preston exhibited when we touched.

“He was attracted to you,” Preston said quietly. I watched as his hands clenched and unclenched slowly on his thighs and then he frowned as if saying the words bothered him and he felt guilty for that.

I put my hand on one of his, lacing our fingers. “You can think someone’s attractive and still not feel any real passion for them.”

His eyes moved to mine and he stared at me for a moment before he let out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s true.”

His expression made me think his mind was in the past for a few moments before he made a small humming sound and returned my same sad smile, squeezing my hand in his.

We sat in companionable silence for a few moments. My eyes caught on the benches that had been pulled forward for that barn party, the one that had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy and plenty of despair. “It seems so surreal that the party where we made love for the first time was almost two years ago,” I mused. “In some ways it seems like a lifetime.”

“Hudson will always be the marker of how long ago that party was.”

I smiled on a breath. “Yes.”

“I loved you so fiercely that night, Annalia. I want you to know that. I know the way things happened after that was mostly awful. But we created that little boy in love. When I look at him, with your eyes and my face, that’s what I think. He’s the beauty that came from the ashes.”

“I feel the same way,” I said softly.

We sat in the barn for a while longer, musing about life and love and our little boy. When I left, though the sky was dark, it only made it easier to see the stars.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


Preston



The next day dawned clear and bright, the spring sky a bowl of startling blue. After a year of rising before the sun, I was now working a more regular schedule, and waking with the light outside my window was a pleasure I’d missed and vowed never to take for granted.

My heart felt lighter and the day went by quickly. The conversation Lia and I had had was long overdue and inside, I knew it had opened a doorway in our relationship. We were learning to trust each other, learning to communicate—honestly—and realizing how good it felt to have another person to open up to. Or at least, that’s how it felt for me. And by the peaceful expression on Lia’s face when I’d kissed her goodbye the night before, I believed she felt the same way.

I thought it had been a good choice to begin slowly and hold off sexually because so many parts of our relationship had never developed naturally and now we were allowing them to. How much deeper and more satisfying was sex going to be once we knew each other—and loved each other—on an even deeper level? A shiver ran down my back and I hardened slightly at the consideration alone.

Still, I wouldn’t keep my hands off her entirely, whether we were taking things slowly or not. Oh God, she made me weak in the knees.

My father had warned me not to love a woman just because she made me weak in the knees. But that wasn’t the only reason I loved Annalia. She was precious to me because she was tender and kind and so deeply sensitive it gripped my heart. She was smart and funny and she kept secrets, not because she was secretive, but because she didn’t think anyone would hold safe the private musings of her heart.

The pain had come, not from the fact that Annalia made me weak in the knees, but from the belief that she didn’t love me back the same way I loved her.

But she did. She did. And I vowed to do things right this time. I vowed to prove to her that her secrets—the tender places inside her—were safe with me. And I promised myself I’d trust her with my tender places, too.

As I worked, I thought more about our conversation and how it had also brought some understanding where Cole was concerned. It was a deep, open wound inside me that we’d never gotten a chance to hash things out regarding Annalia—never had a true, honest conversation. And yet talking to her had allowed me to see the situation in a clearer light.

He cared about you, though, Lia.

Yes, he did care about me, but like a sister.

I remembered the way he’d been so enraged about me possibly disrespecting her—the way he’d tried to protect her virtue, but yet had had no interest in staying true to her. He’d had the opportunity to spend more time with her than he had, but he never took it. If I had been the one who won that race, and found out she wanted me, I’d have staked my claim the very next day. He hadn’t. Perhaps he’d thought the deep protectiveness he felt for her and no one else meant he loved her. And it did, but if Lia was right and there was no passion there, then her belief that he loved her as a sister felt like the truth.