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Sometimes she absolutely detested that voice in her head… but she couldn’t deny the words were those of truth.Using the second towel to rid her hair of most of the water, she dug into her duffle, looking for a comb. With it in hand, she began to pull it through her tangled tresses, using her hair dryer, lowering her head to blow the warmed air on the underside of her curls, ignoring the brush that seemed such an innocent item and yet she’d learned served dual purposes.
It took her a few more minutes to finish getting ready. She brushed her teeth and pulled on her clothing. The jeans had faded to a soft gray instead of the black they’d been when purchased. The pale pink sweater was soft against her skin, the sleeves a little too long, the cuffs stretched as she had a tendency to pull the knitted fabric down over her hands to warm them. The hem came down mid-thigh and she often sat with her knees to her chest, the sweater pulled over them. It might be sorely misshapen but it was one of her absolute favorite garments.
Looking at her reflection again, she set aside the makeup bag she’d picked up. Her cheeks were already tinged pink, her bottom lip as well from her habit of biting on it when nervous. Black lashes surrounded eyes of emerald green. Normally, she wore just the barest amount of makeup and yet today she decided to wear none. If what she prayed happened, any makeup she applied would most likely be streaked, assuring her face resembled more of a raccoon’s than a woman’s.
She tidied the room, hanging the used towels over the rod, capping the toothpaste tube, and putting her toothbrush into the waiting cup, leaving the brush where he’d placed it. After shoving her discarded clothing into a pink drawstring dirty clothes bag, she put it inside the duffle and left the bathroom. Remembering the neatly folded linens on the couch, she decided to make the bed. Tucking the sheet beneath the mattress, she picked up a pillow, tossing it up a bit and using her hands to fluff it. Placing the last pillow into place, she heard a door opening and then closing. Liam had returned and that meant her allotted time was up. Still, her feet didn’t move toward the stairs, instead returning to the railing.
Memories of sitting in a theater and watching a production of Romeo and Juliet ran through her head as she stepped closer to the edge of her ‘balcony’ once again, her fingers holding tight to the smooth wood. Looking down, she saw him and her breath caught in her throat. He stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet a foot apart, his head tilted back, his eyes locking onto hers. God, had he always been so… big? So formidable?
Before she could speak, he did. “Why are you here, Elena?”
Though she’d expected the question, she wasn’t prepared for it to be the first words out of his mouth.
No hello…
No good morning…
No I’ve missed you terribly.
But then again, did she really deserve anything else?
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said.
“No.” His eyes darkened, the blue hue deepening. “You could have done that with a phone call. Why are you here?”
She swallowed and tried again, her voice a bit stronger. “I wanted to explain—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Again, simply picking up the phone would have taken care of that.” He stopped speaking and yet she couldn’t continue. He wasn’t following the script in her head, and she had never been very good at ad lib.
Well, you truly didn’t expect that he’d make this easy, did you?
“Answer the question, Elena. Why are you here?” he repeated, his hand sweeping to indicate ‘here’ meant the cabin… the cabin from which she’d run.
It was time for the truth.
Time to face her greatest fear.
Time to trust that he would understand.
“I came to… stop hiding.”
“From what?” he asked.
She didn’t drop her gaze, didn’t back away, and didn’t run. Instead, she loosened her grip on the rail, her hands falling to her sides as she gave him the answer that had taken her months to admit to herself.
“From you, Liam. From myself. I came to face the truth, to stop hiding. I came to see if there was any chance… if there is anything I can do to make this… us… right. To tell you that I love you and that I need… need my daddy.”
His intense gaze had her will to remain strong begin to falter and then he did the only thing that could make her break; he didn’t ask another question, didn’t speak at all. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and opened them wide. With a strangled sob, she fled from the railing and to the stairs. She’d never know how she’d descended with blurred vision, tears streaming down her face as she leapt off the second step from the bottom and into his arms, never doubting that he would catch her. The moment his arms wrapped around her, she felt as if she were home. Sobbing, she buried her face in his flannel shirt.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, the words spoken against the top of her head a moment before she felt his lips against her curls. And she knew that he did—he always had.
Chapter Four
Liam stood, his cheek pressed against her cap of auburn curls, his arms tight about her small frame as she clung to him. No matter what had happened to make her run, he knew he’d never let her go again. This woman was the missing piece of his soul. Without her, he was incomplete. He’d not held her in months and yet the moment he’d opened his arms and seen her eyes fill with tears, he’d ached to hold her, to assure her that she’d made the right choice. That her daddy would be there for her always. When she’d leapt from the stairs and he caught her in his arms, he’d felt his world shift, righting itself from the tilt off its axis her disappearance had caused. He would call upon everything within himself, but he was determined that she would learn that she belonged exactly where she was… now and for the rest of their lives.
He didn’t rush her to settle, they had time. For now, he was content to hold her soft body against his hardness, inhale the scent that belonged solely to her and allow her to soak his shirt and absorb the fact that he had absolutely no desire to ever let her go again. Gradually, her tears lessened, her hitching breaths slowing as she calmed. He stroked down her back, the touch doing as much to soothe him as it did her. When he felt her pull away just enough to tilt her head back, he cupped her cheek with his palm. Her eyes were red, her cheeks moist, the band of freckles across her cheeks and bridge of her nose prominent despite her flush. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her sniffles and occasional hiccups tugged at his heart. Using a thumb to wipe away her tears, he wondered how often he’d repeat that gesture before they were done. Pulling a handkerchief from his jean pocket, he lifted it toward her runny nose, acknowledging the fact that if she objected to this simple gesture, if she refused to allow him to perform something as rudimentary as assisting her in blowing her nose, he’d question how she could be serious about needing her daddy. She pleased him when she didn’t reach for the handkerchief, but blew several times until she pulled slightly back, communicating her nose was clear.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
