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Dane’s gaze locked with mine.
With a slow nod, I said, “You think I’m rebelling against all this protection?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised and I sure as hell wouldn’t blame you.”
I sipped, then told him, “I’ll admit it’s been an adjustment.”
“The thing is, Ari, I understand. Back then I got restless … and reckless.” His emerald eyes clouded with guilt.
My head cocked to the side. “And someone got hurt?”
“Mikaela.”
“Oh.” I really didn’t know what else to say. Wasn’t so certain I wanted to hear the details. He gave them anyway.
“When I was fifteen, I wanted my driver’s permit. Like every other fifteen-year-old in the country. But Amano and Aunt Lara were against it, insisting I already had a driver. Amano.”
“I suppose you wanted a car of your own, too. Not the family limo.”
“Yes. Had it all picked out, in fact. I could afford it, obviously, so there wasn’t a reason in my mind why I couldn’t get my license.”
Now my gut twisted. He was delivering a very important message.
“So what happened?” I tentatively asked.
“Mikaela and I slipped out one night at her estate. Took her father’s new Jag for a joyride. And I put it in a ditch.”
“Wow.” That must have wrecked more than the car. His trust with Amano. His pride. And … “What happened to Mikaela?”
“Broken nose from the passenger side air bag. There was blood everywhere.”
“Freaked the hell out of her, didn’t it?” The Heidi Klum look-alike was all about appearances.
“Yes. She was very upset.”
I was sure that was putting it mildly.
“You were, too.” An easy conclusion.
“It’s not exactly the kind of lesson I’d hoped to learn.”
I could grasp his frustration and his remorse. And heard precisely what he was saying to me. He knew how I felt. Beca
use he knew me.
Still, I said, “I’ve always been able to come and go as I please, rarely ever telling anyone where I was off to or where I’d been when I returned. My dad was mostly on the course, and my mother was never interested in anything other than herself.”
“You’re extremely independent and resourceful. I admire those traits. I wouldn’t want to stifle them. That’s not what I’m getting at here. The fact is…” He paused to take a long drink. Perhaps to further contemplate his stance. Then he continued. “You and I are similar in a lot of ways. I wouldn’t have been able to sit on my hands, either, if I thought there was something I could do to better a situation. You knew Horton’s patterns and you knew the right buttons to push—and you had every right to go after him, given all that he’s done to you. I’m not discounting any of that. I want the bastard to pay as much as you do. More, Ari,” he said with conviction. “So much more.”
My eyes watered. My throat tightened.
I tried to keep my composure, difficult though it was. I knew my husband was deeply wounded by every single attack on me. His pain and regret broke my heart.
Dane swallowed down another gulp of scotch, then told me, “At the end of the day, however, we have a bigger picture than ourselves that we need to learn how to see more clearly.”
Tears tumbled down my cheeks at that crucial reminder. “I get it,” I said on a shaky breath. I heard him loud and clear. And felt the same way when it came to factoring in our son with all of this mayhem. Yet I recognized another critical variable. “There’s also the matter of us.”
“We’re not your typical couple.”
