Heartless Rebel (22 page)

 
          
He
didn’t turn back to her as he shook his head. “Not usually, no. I don’t like
the intrusion of having someone around.”

 
          
Her
heart flipped at that statement. Was she an intrusion, too? Or, if not now,
would she soon become one?

 
          
He
finished the sauce and drained the pasta, then plated the food and set it on
the bar. Cara climbed on the bar stool and twirled her fork in the pasta.

 
          
“It’s
good,” she said after she’d had the first bite.

 
          
He
was watching her eat, and she dipped her head again, embarrassed. Odd,
considering how they had no secrets when it came to making love. He’d certainly
seen more unguarded expressions on her face, had heard her make intimate noises
in the throes of passion.

 
          
“I’m
sorry about earlier,” he said.

 
          
Cara
looked up. “What’s there to be sorry about?”

 
          
“I
shouldn’t have said what I did.”

 
          
She
dropped her fork and reached for his hand. “No, Jack, don’t apologize for that.
I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

 
          
“I
don’t usually talk about it. In fact, I think you’re only the second person to
ever hear me say it.”

 
          
Her
heart quickened. “I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”

 
          
He
blew out a breath and looked away. “It’s so ugly, Cara. Everything that
happened, everything I felt—”

 
          
He
shook his head and she lifted his hand to her mouth, kissed his knuckles. “It’s
not your fault.”

 
          
He
leaned forward and caressed her cheek. She wanted to turn into the caress,
wanted to stay like this forever. Her heart was so full of everything she was
beginning to feel for this man. Surely he could see it in her eyes. She thought
she should pull away, should guard herself better.

 
          
But
she couldn’t.

 
          
“I
know that. Now.” He squeezed her hand and then picked up his fork again. “It
took a long time, but I know I wasn’t to blame for William’s rages. I escaped
the brunt of them most of the time. The others …”

 
          
Her
heart felt as if someone had wrapped it in chains. She was bound to him tighter
and tighter with every word.

 
          
He
shrugged, yet she knew he didn’t feel at all carefree about what he said. “I
could tell. I knew when he was going to explode. He rarely took it out on me
because I didn’t push his buttons. I never could understand why the others
couldn’t see it. I tried to warn them. It never worked. And then Annabelle …”

 
          
Cara
shuddered at the thought that Annabelle’s scars had been caused by her own
father. The woman she’d met had been so lovely, so cool and collected. So
reserved, hiding behind her hair and her camera. What must she feel every day
of her life if her brother felt so much pain simply at the thought of it?

 
          
“He
beat her because she was beautiful, because she’d dared to want to grow up. She
got dressed up and snuck out to a party. When William saw her in her heels and
lipstick, he went berserk.” He took a deep breath. “I wasn’t there. It was all
over by the time I’d arrived. Nathaniel and Sebastian tried to stop him, but
they were too young, too small. Jacob arrived and hit him.”

 
          
It
was so telling to her that he called his father by his first name. She’d been
confused for just a moment, but then she’d understood. William. Not Dad. Not
Daddy. Not Father.

 
          
She
turned the words over in her head.
Daddy
.
That was the word that stood out. It still made her ache just to think it. It
was a kid’s word, but she’d barely been more than a kid when her father had
left.

 
          
“I
don’t think it’s wrong to feel the way you do, Jack. But he’s dead—” she
couldn’t say
father
when he wouldn’t
“—and the how no longer matters.”

 
          
“I
feel like I should have done something more for the others. If I’d been the one
to kill him, then Jacob wouldn’t have …”

 
          
“Wouldn’t
have what?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

 
          
He
shook his head, more to himself than to her. “He wouldn’t have left,” he said.
“Now eat before it gets cold.”

 
          
She
wanted him to keep talking. He was on the edge of something she wanted to hear,
but he said nothing more. And she wouldn’t push him any further tonight. He’d
already said so much, far more than she’d have expected.

 
          
When
they finished eating, she cleaned the dishes while he made espresso. They drank
it at the table on the balcony, along with an aperitif, and then went to bed
and fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was domestic and peaceful—but Cara
didn’t fool herself. This was the calm before the storm. And when the storm
came, the pain would follow. It always did.

 
          
Jack
slept fitfully. Beside him, Cara was warm and soft and soundly asleep. But he
kept running over the past. He hadn’t thought this deeply about it in years,
and now he couldn’t stop. He kept seeing Jacob’s face in the bar. What could
Jacob possibly want to say after all these years? Did he expect to just waltz
back into everyone’s lives and be forgiven for abandoning them?

 
          
The
others might not have a problem with that, but Jack did. If Jacob had run away
once before, what was to stop him from doing so again? Jack wasn’t willing to
take that chance. Wasn’t willing to care again, when caring would lead to
disappointment.

 
          
Cara
snuggled closer to him in her sleep. She was so sensual, so amazing, and he
wanted her with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d wanted women
before, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this level of desire. There
was something strong and elemental between them, something that made sex a
necessity rather than just a logical conclusion to their attraction. But he
knew better than to allow it to mean more than it did. It was just sex. Hot,
passionate, no-holds-barred sex.

 
          
As
if thinking the words conjured the deed, Cara’s hand slipped over his body with
a deliberation that said she was no longer asleep. Though he wanted to roll her
beneath him and thrust into her body, he waited to see what she would do. She
caressed his chest, his abdomen, his hip, his bare buttock, her lips pressing
to the hollow of his throat as she nuzzled against him. Though he’d had her
only a few hours ago, he was hard and ready for her again.

 
          
Without
a word, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, taking him deep within
her. She rode him slowly, deliberately, until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Until he gripped her hips and drove up inside her again and again until she
cried out with the force of her release. Her body gripped him, milked him with
tiny shudders, and he let go with a harsh cry.

 
          
They
stayed entwined for the longest time. Jack started to doze, but then she broke
the quiet stillness of the night when she said, “I want to tell you something.”

 
          
Jack
yawned. “I’m listening.”

 
          
She
pushed away from him and sat up. The air wafting over his body cooled him and
he wanted her against him again. But he resisted reaching for her because it
was clear she needed to do this her way.

 
          
He
could see her outline in the dark, and though he couldn’t see the features of
her body, he imagined them. The high, pert nipples. Her narrow waist tapered
down to flared hips, and the place between her legs—that wonderful place he
adored—would still be sensitive to the touch. If he were to slide his fingers
into that wetness, she would shudder and moan.

 
          
“Jack.”

 
          
“Yes,
darling?”

 
          
“You
aren’t listening.”

 
          
“What
makes you think so?”

 
          
“Because
your hand is on my breast.”

 
          
He
would have laughed if he didn’t sense she was being serious, so he pulled his
hand away with a sigh. “Sorry. Continue.”

 
          
“I’ve
been thinking about what you said. About your, um, father and Jacob—”

 
          
“Cara—”

 
          
She
put a hand over his mouth. “No, listen. Please.”

 
          
Her
hand fell away and he didn’t say a word.

 
          
“I
can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, Jack. And I don’t want to make
it sound like I’m trying to compare my experience to yours. But I want to tell
you the truth about my family.”

 
          
He’d
begun to think she wasn’t going to tell him anything. Each time he’d asked,
she’d deflected the conversation without telling him anything substantial—other
than the hurricane and the deadbeat boyfriend. Perhaps she was embarrassed that
she came from humble roots, or perhaps there were even darker things in her
past than in his. Whatever the reason, he’d decided she intended to remain
silent about it.

 
          
She
pulled in a deep breath as if she were gathering her courage, let it out in a
rush. “I told you that my mama lost her house when Katrina hit. But I didn’t
tell you that my dad left us shortly after. I thought they had the perfect
marriage, but it turns out that my father had another family we didn’t know
about. He’d been having an affair for years with a woman in another town. They
had a daughter together.” She laughed, the sound breaking off. “I have a sister
I didn’t find out about until six years ago. I’ve never even met her.”

 
          
“Do
you want to?” he asked.

 
          
She
seemed surprised if the way she hesitated were any indication. “I don’t know.
It’s not her fault, and yet …” She twisted the sheets in her hands. He waited
for her to get to it in her own time. “I have another sister … Evie. And a
little brother. Remy. He’s the sweetest thing alive, but he’s, um …”

 
          
She
let out a harsh breath, full of anger and tears he sensed she hadn’t let fall
yet. “Remy was starved of oxygen at birth and he suffered mental difficulties
because of it. He’s eighteen now, but he has the mental capacity of a
six-year-old.”

 
          
He
reached for her hand, squeezed it. She didn’t pull away. “This is why you work
so hard,” he said, his heart pinching for her. It made so much sense now. Why
she was so focused, so independent. Why she’d been so worried about money and
why she’d taken a job with Bobby Gold.

 
          
She
nodded. “Yes. Remy’s therapy is subsidized by the state, but only to a point.
He needs specialized care. And he’s very sensitive to changes. The loss of the
house devastated him because he couldn’t understand why everything was
different. We worked hard to get it back to normal as quickly as we could. Of
course, by the time we’d done so, he was used to the trailer we’d been living
in.”

 
          
He
knew what came next, what she hadn’t yet said. “It must have been difficult for
him when your father left.”

 
          
“Oh,
God, you have no idea.” She rubbed a hand across her brow. “I haven’t spoken to
my father in six years, Jack. And watching you with your brother, it began to
bother me. What if he wanted to talk to me? What would I do? Would I push him
away? Or would I listen? I’m furious with him, and yet I wonder what he might
say if I gave him the chance. Not that he wants to say anything,” she added.
“But if he did …”