AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come here,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his broad, slumped shoulders. “Let ME hold you. Okay?” And she drew him into her arms, pulled his head against her shoulder and held him within her feminine strength. At first, Mace resisted, but she wouldn’t give in, holding him tightly against herself. Finally, he relaxed, face pressed against her neck and jaw, his arms sliding around her, drawing her even closer to him.
“You’re good for me,” he said gruffly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder.
Battling back tears, not wanting Mace to see them falling, she said nothing, and only squeezed him more tightly. Mace surrendered over to her fully and she knelt there holding this tall, proud man who so desperately needed care for and love himself. He’d had so much taken from him at such a young age. Tears broke over the dams of her lower eyelids and leaked down her cheeks and, inwardly, Sierra groaned. They plopped down on Mace. He pulled back, staring at her, his expression concerned.
“What’s this?” he demanded, using his thumbs to wipe the tears off her cheeks.
His face blurred in front of her and she struggled. “I’m crying foryou, Mace. You had no one to hold you. To help you through your own grief and loss.” She reached up, cupping his jaw, holding his dark-gray eyes so filled with pain and awareness. “You were just a little boy. No one should have put those responsibilities on you. Joe shouldn’t have gone off like he did. It wasn’t your dad’s fault. Caleb was too young. You were all innocent. Your parents did the best they could. No one is blaming anyone here. I just hurt so much for you because you’re still carrying around all your family’s baggage on your shoulders. I ache for you…,” and she crushed him against her, holding him hard, sobbing into his shoulder as he held her.
Mace felt like hell. Early evening had arrived, and he’d only gotten half of the fence painted. His knees were stiff as he slowly got up. All day, he’d run Sierra’s words, her questions, and his answers, around in his head. His emotions were in turmoil. He’d damn near cried along with Sierra earlier in the morning himself. He was feeling more and more how much she was understanding his suffering. She had a big heart, and she was compassionate to the bone. If he were honest with himself, he still wanted to cry, but he was afraid to. If he started, Mace wasn’t sure he could stop. His love for Sierra was growing stronger and deeper in his heart by the day. She was sensitive, caring, loving and so open with her feelings, good or bad. He’d never been around anyone like her before.
He heard Sierra call from the porch that it was dinner time. She had taken a shower and changed clothes. She wore a soft-pink sleeveless blouse, a set of white shorts, and sandals. Picking up the paint-splattered tarp, he folded it up, put the lid on the paint can and took everything to the small shed on the side of the cabin.
Wanting to make love to her, driven to have her in his arms, he went in the house and washed up in the bathroom. Coming out to the kitchen, the smells of food wonderful, he walked over to where she was making a salad on the counter.
“Hey,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her waist, kissing the exposed nape of her neck, “come here?”
Sierra put the paring knife down on the wooden board, wiped her hands dry on a towel and turned around in his arms. “How are you doing?” she asked, sliding her arms around his waist, studying him tenderly.
Instantly, Mace felt tears sting the back of his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Can dinner wait? I want to make love with you right now.” He’d never done this before, but the need pushing him was going to eat him alive if he didn’t bury himself into Sierra’s warm, womanly depths. He needed a safe harbor. Needed her so damn badly.
“Sure,” she murmured, releasing him. “Let me turn off the stove?”
He moved away, feeling shaky inside, never having felt like this before. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” he said gruffly.
A sensation reminiscent of what he’d felt at age sixteen when his mother died, and Joe ran away haunted him like a predator that was going to eat him alive.
Sierra sensed what was going on inside him as she turned off the oven. Her opening up of Mace’s past had created an emotional deluge within him. She could see his confusion. She felt so many powerful, conflicting emotions in his vulnerable face, saw he needed her in a desperate kind of way that crumpled her heart. Mace needed to cry. He needed to be held. She could do those things for him. Unsure of how it would unfold, she quickly untied her apron and set it on the counter, walking through the living room to their bedroom.
Mace was sitting on the edge of the bed, thighs open, elbows on them, hands clasped, head down. His shoulders were slumped. Everything in his pose spoke of defeat. Of giving up. And maybe this had to happen in order for him to move on. To have a life just for himself instead of still carrying all his family’s weight around that was dragging him down like a millstone he might never be free of. Her heart was so heavy for him. She loved him and it hurt her to her soul to see the suffering in his eyes as he raised them when she quietly came and knelt in front of him, her hands on his upper arms. His whole body was so tense it felt as if he was going to shatter apart any moment into a million pieces. Moving her hands gently up and down his upper arms, she whispered, “Talk to me?” and she searched his charcoal-colored eyes, saw the raw pain in them.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, reaching out, pulling her into his arms, situating her between his thighs. Sliding his fingers through the cascade of hair she’d released earlier from its ties, pressing his face into its clean strands, he trembled, his arms tightening even more around her.
She rubbed his shoulders that were so hunched over. Mace didn’t know how to cry. All he could feel was the twisting emotions roaring through him and they had no outlet. Nowhere to go. “I love you, Mace,” she whispered against his ear. “You’re hurting… let me help?” and she felt tears flood her eyes. Lifting her head away, she tilted it and caught his misery-ladened gaze. “Let me help you…” She saw him look up, stare at her, transfixed, as tears rolled down her cheeks. And then his face twisted, as if trying to battle back some unseen opponent. Sierra leaned forward, her hands framing his face, her mouth softly touching the hardened line of his. Her tears flowed into the corners of her mouth as she pressed and ask him entrance, his lips opening beneath hers. Sierra heard a sob choke out of Mace. She lifted her mouth away from his and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he pressed his face against her neck and shoulder. “It’s all right,” she soothed unsteadily, caressing his hair, “it’s all right, Mace, just let it go. Give me your tears. I’ll just hold you…”
CHAPTER 22
Mace found himselflying on the bed, holding on to Sierra like she was a life raft and, if he let go, he knew he’d drown. The sounds twisting out of his throat sounded other-worldly even to himself as he clung to her softly curved body, his head buried against her shoulder. He sounded like a trapped animal, shrieking out in pain and panic. The sobs kept tearing out of him and he could no longer control or stop them. Just the gentle touch of her hand on his head, on his shaking shoulders, helped him to stop fighting back. The tears that rolled out of his burning eyes felt acrid. All he could feel was a glut of pain rolling up through him, in wave after torturous wave. And throughout his wrenching, tearing sobs ripping out of his contorted mouth, Sierra was there with her low, husky voice, soothing him, telling him she loved him and would be there for him.
Her arms were so damn strong. And he was a big man. She was half his size and yet, her strength kept him grounded, allowed him to weep just as he’d seen his father do so many years before. They were terrible sounds, filled with such heartbreak and loss. Mace felt all his suppressed emotions vomiting out of him and he knew no way to stop them. Nor did he try.
Having no idea how long he’d wept, Mace felt Sierra shift, pushing him gently onto his back. She lay beside him, her face soft with sympathy as she tenderly dried his cheeks off with her fingers. Reaching up, Mace realized she had cried as well, but he had been unaware of her tears, too lost in his own emotional storm.
“Come here,” he said thickly, bringing her down to kiss her. He put his lips against hers, tasting the salt across them, felt her tremble, knew she was no less affected by this weeping than he was. Because Sierra loved him. She’d spoken the words he said in his head so often. It had done something powerful within him as if some key to unlock the steel cage around his heart had released him. Mace couldn’t explain it, only feel it. Sierra’s mouth was warm, opening to him, giving back to him, filling him with her love and he readily accepted it. Because now that he felt freed at such a deep level, it was impossible to put it into coherent words. Now that his walls had finally dissolved, he could give back equally to her what she was offering him. Sierra’s hair slipped across her shoulders, cool and silky against his heated skin, pooling across his damp t-shirt.
Easing her away from him so he could look into her eyes, he rasped, “I love you, Sierra. Just know that…”
Sierra smiled brokenly, reaching out, grazing his cheek. “You’ve loved me for a long time, Mace Kilmer. But it sure is nice to hear you say those words.”
Groaning, Mace shook his head, his voice filled with apology. “I knew. I knew a long time ago, Sweetheart. I was just…” and he took a serrating breath, “I needed to try and figure everything out that was going on inside of me.”
“I realized that.” Sierra gave him an understanding look, moving a few strands of hair off his broad brow. “Your family, their demands on you, had you tied up in knots inside yourself, Mace. Your parents made you the strong one. They both looked to you when they were feeling weak and out of control. But you didn’t realize that. How could you? You were just fourteen years old.”
Shaking her head, Sierra leaned down, kissing his brow, his cheeks and finally, his mouth. Lingering against his lips, she whispered, “You are so honorable, Mace. So damned strong. And you more than carried out your promise to your father to hunt down those drug lord bastards.” Lifting her head, Sierra gave him a warm look. “You’re allowed to have a life of your own, now. You’re allowed to fall in love with me, Mace. And we’re allowed to have a life together if that’s what you want.”
He felt amazingly calm inside, given that, half an hour ago, he’d felt like there was a wild animal loose within his guts, clawing him apart from the inside out. “How the hell did you get to be so smart? That’s what I want to know,” and a faint smile touched his mouth.
“Luck of the lottery draw,” she admitted wryly. “I just know your childhood was taken away from you at a very early age, Mace. All you know is work, responsibility and honor. Those aren’t bad things, but ever since you put the family yoke on your shoulders to carry as well, you’ve suffered. A lot.” Sierra skimmed his cheek. “And more than anything, I want you to be happy, Mace. I want to hear you laugh. See you smile. To wake up happy every morning, looking forward to the day with me. Not seeing the day ahead of you as some old, old promise that shouldn’t ever have been agreed to in the first place. Your dad was too filled with grief and guilt. He was so wrapped up in his own pain that he had no energy, no room emotionally left within him, to help you through yours, Mace. And, because you were so strong, they all unconsciously leaned on you, instead. And you just took it because you could. You were too young to understand any of it.”
