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“That was ... lovely,” she said with a sated sigh.
“You’re lovely.” Cupping her cheek in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip.
Her gaze fell away, but she smiled and sank back into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I should get back to the house.”
“Probably.”
She stroked her hand up his back, dipped into his hair. “You never did tell me why you’re getting out.”
He controlled the urge to flinch, to tense up, just as he controlled the urge to prevaricate or lie. He shouldn’t have said anything to her, but she’d already figured out the biggest secret in his life—how, he didn’t know. And wasn’t it better to put it to bed so she’d stop wondering?
“It’s time,” he said. “I’ve gotten reckless or gotten too old. I’ve had two bad injuries in just a couple of years and if it keeps up ... ” He shrugged, letting the words trail off. When she didn’t say anything else, he added, “It’s just time.”
“Why did you even get into it?”
He sighed and fisted his hand in her hair. “If I tell you, will you let it go? No more questions?”
Chapter 14
Isabel’s gut tightenedas he dragged his hands down his face and turned his gaze out over the water.
Travis had never had any problems meeting her gaze. That he wouldn’t now told her that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. Her muscles tightened, but she already had a sinking suspicion about what had put him on the road he’d been walking all these years.
“Miles came to me a couple of months after ... after we last talked that summer.”
“I know he was involved in you finding out about the pregnancy,” she said in a flat voice. It had taken her a long time to move past that, to forgive the other man, but in the end, she’d let it go—not for Miles, but for herself. Not being able to forgive him had caused her more harm than anything and she’d been tired of carrying rage and bitterness inside her. But even now, she could feel the fury rising up in her throat. Had he told Travis ...
“He didn’t tell me anything about what had happened to you,” Travis said.
She jerked her head up, not even certain when she’d lowered her gaze.
Travis was staring at her and she felt the dull rush of color flood her cheeks, hold and cold chills alternating as the old, familiar shame washed over her. She willed it down, knowing she’d have to deal with that later. She’d fought through it, would again. Survivors of rape never truly recovered—they dealt with it, learned to live with it...or some did. She had. For long periods, she could even forget. But there were times when it crept back.
While that slippery, greasy knot of shame twisted in her gut, she held her stare.
“We’re not talking about me,” she replied in a hard, flat voice.
