When the Heart Falls(48)

He speeds up. "I didn't say you couldn't speed walk."

I speed up too, ignoring the twinge in my ankle from twisting it earlier. "Wait. Wouldn't this get us wetter just like running? You know, assuming we weren’t already drenched."

"Yeah.” He grins and winks at me. “But it's more fun this way."

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I really can’t believe it. I’m speed walking. In a storm. With my sexy cowboy. Across an island. And I’m loving it. We’re neck and neck as we reach our finish line—the door to the hotel. I smack my hand against the wood just before his lands next to mine. Wiggling my butt, I dance the dance of victory, gloating despite the fact I’m pretty sure Cade slowed down at the end so I could catch up.

Cade laughs at my antics. “I totally won that.”

"No you didn't."

"A tie then?"

"You wish." Without waiting, I speed walk up to our room, snagging the shower before him. We’re both dripping wet and laughing as Cade leans in to kiss me. "Hurry.”

My witty comeback dies on my lips, or rather, at the feel of his lips on mine. I tear myself away from him and lock myself in the bathroom, peeling off layers of wet clothes.

The hot water thaws me, making me realize how very cold I was as pins and needles dance painfully on my skin. As I rub soap over my body, the discomfort fading to pleasure, I think of Cade—his smile, his touch, his laugh. The day started out bad but ended with joy and happiness. Our race showed me something about this man I love. He didn’t push to win, to beat me. He didn’t lag behind either. He stayed beside me through it all.

That’s the kind of man I want to be with. The kind of man I could give myself to without fear.

It still surprises me, how I could be with Cade and the only pounding in my heart is from excitement, not anxiety. His kisses make my legs weak, but not out of terror. I had nearly convinced myself that Rodney had broken me, that I’d never be whole or complete and would never be able to give my body to a man without those memories destroying me, but Cade changed that. Being with Cade has shown me that I can flirt and kiss and fantasize without fear.

When the water turns cold, I step out and wrap myself in a plush white towel. I didn’t bring any clean, dry clothes in with me, I realize, as the outfit I’d been wearing drips from the towel rack.

I should be nervous. Shy. Coy.

Instead, I feel bold. Nothing has to happen. But something could, if the moment is right. Either way, I need clothes.

Cade is sitting on the bed facing away from me when I walk in. He’s lit the fire and a few candles, and the shadows of flames dance on his skin. He’s dried off and wearing a pair of clean jeans, but no shirt, and he’s holding his hat.

All thoughts of seduction evaporate, and when I sit next to him, it’s to offer comfort not foreplay. We sit in silence, watching the flames.

When he speaks, his voice is rough. "I'm sorry I worried you earlier. I can't lose this hat." He strokes the brim with his thumb.

"I know."

"But I should have explained it better. This hat was my brother’s, but it wasn't Stevie's."

My heart clenches. "So you have—"

"Another brother. Peter. We called him Pete."

Called. Past tense. "Where is he now?"

"He died.” He says this without emotion, as if pronouncing that the rain had stopped or he was hungry. For a moment, Cade’s face is as empty as his voice, like it was in the rain. But it passes like a storm cloud, and I can see when he comes back to me.

I take his hand and say the words that are never enough. "I'm sorry.” If ever a writer should have a larger arsenal than others, it is now, in times of grief and sorrow. As magical as words can be, it is times such as this that prove how weak they really are.

For words cannot stand in the presence of grief.

He reaches for me, and as his tears burn hot on my shoulder, I give him what he needs more than my words. I give him my empathy. And together we weep for losses we have both felt, for pain we have both known.

When we share in each other’s grief and pain, we lighten it. Or maybe we just give each other permission to feel it fully and, through that act of acceptance, the grief becomes more bearable.

Because like the rain, tears too have an end. And with deep emotions, we are open to each other in unexpected ways.

As his tears dry on my shoulder, his kisses replace them, leading up my neck and to my mouth.

My towel falls away, and I am naked before him, vulnerable in a way I’ve never been with anyone, not even Rodney.

Panic grips me, but I push it aside, and face the self-consciousness I wasn't expecting but should have. I've never been naked in front of anyone, not since I was a child. Every flaw on my body feels circled in marker and highlighted, but, looking into his eyes, I can tell he doesn't see any of them. His gaze is loving, kind, and full of desire.

He breathes in at the sight of me, moving his eyes over my body in a caress that sends chills up my spine. I don’t want to tarnish this moment, but I don’t want to hide any part of me either. “Before we do this. There are things about me you don’t know. Things I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about.”

His hands land on my hips as he silences me with a kiss, then pulls back to look into my eyes. “There will always be things we have to learn about each other. Those secrets don’t all have to be revealed tonight.”