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“I see you, Ty,” she assured. “I’ve always seen you.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
Exposed. That was how he felt. With his every secret revealed to the entire world.
Only she wasn’t the entire world. She was one small woman…
Vicki.
But she was rapidly becoming his entire world.
He swallowed, the sound so loud he was sure it echoed in the silence of the room. She didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she took another step toward him.
“Why did you ask me to come here tonight?”
“I wanted to see if there was some way we could salvage the rest of our time together.”
“The rest of our time?”
“The next few weeks…”
“The next few weeks before we go our separate ways?” she clarified, and he nodded uncertainly. Her voice had gone cold. Her words were stilted, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Yes?”
“Okay.”
This big, dumb man. Vicki stifled a sigh and stared into his beautiful eyes, canvassing that handsome face. His expression was painted with hints of vulnerability, uncertainty, and something close to terror.
It appeared that he was still wholly committed to their original timeline. A few more weeks at most. Vicki wanted more than that. But after seeing him like this today—so damned scared of anything close to permanence—she knew she had to tread lightly. All she had to do was look around this place and see how much he had lost, to know why he was afraid of letting people close.
He said Chance had called his wall of pictures a shrine…but it wasn’t just the wall. It was the whole damned flat. The way he had showcased their lives and achievements, while literally shoving his own into a drawer. She looked around the flat and saw nothing of Ty in here. His mother’s vase, and Vicki had spotted a few other ugly pottery pieces that were probably hers as well, his brother’s guitar, his father’s foil things…Dylan’s medal taking pride of place.
But nothing that screamed Ty.
She saw him in those pictures. Laughing, happy, vibrant.
Alive among the dead.
She stared at him—so big and beautiful—appearing larger than life. But seeing him standing with that heartbreaking wall of pictures behind him, Vicki understood that Ty was no longer truly alive. He merely existed with the memories of his lost loved ones all around him.
How could he breathe in here? How long before he suffocated beneath the weight of all this loss?
“Whatever you have in that oven smells phenomenal,” she said, striving to lighten the mood and refocus the energy of the evening.
He looked nonplussed at first and then grateful.
“Baked baby potatoes. They’re nearly done so I’ll get the salmon steaks on. Can I get you some wine?”
“Any red?” she asked. “I can get it. Just steer me in the right direction. You get supper sorted.”
“The cabinet above the fridge. Think you can reach it, Short Stuff? Or do you need a stepladder?”
She tossed him a narrow-eyed glower over her shoulder and traipsed confidently into the kitchen before stopping below the cupboard in question. It was hopelessly out of reach.
He came to stand behind her. So close she could feel his heat, and smell his wintery deliciousness.
He chuckled and crowded against her to tug open the cupboard; his front was flush against her back. She couldn’t quite suppress the helpless, breathy moan that escaped her lips. It had been too long since they had been this close.
He reached for a bottle of wine with his right hand, while his left slid around her waist and palmed her stomach. The large hand spanned her entire midriff. Her breath snagged in her throat, and she stifled a thrill of shivery delight when his head lowered and his lips nuzzled against her ear.
“I’m so fucking happy you’re here.” The words were delivered directly into her ear, his lips brushed against her sensitive flesh, and then trailed upward to press a sweet kiss on her temple.
Chapter Twenty
“You are?” she asked. Her breath had deserted her, and the question was choked.
Her closeness was having an effect on him as well; he was doing nothing to hide his burgeoning erection from her. Yet he did nothing to draw attention to it either. It was just there, a growing hardness against her back.
“I am.” His nose was buried in the curls at her temple, and he inhaled deeply. “You always smell so good.”
“So do you.”
The deep sound of appreciation he made rumbled in his chest and sent an echoing frisson of pleasure juddering down her spine.
To her eternal regret, he dropped his hand, and stepped away from her. The absence of his body heat left her feeling chilled. She resented the loss.
Ty made short work of uncorking the wine and handed her the open bottle and two tall glasses. He seemed to be avoiding her eyes. But that suited an unsettled Vicki just fine.
