All or Nothing at All(108)

As much as he adored being with Becca, he'd missed his wife. He didn't try to push her, thinking with some time and space, they'd be able to work things out. He recognized the panic and fear clawing at his gut at the thought of her walking away from him but was still unsure how to handle it.

He should just tell her he loved her. It would solve the problem. But then he remembered the hurt in her eyes, the shattered expression on her face when she confronted him. Nausea hit his gut. Still, she never backed down. God, when had she gotten so brave? She'd stood in front of him, admitted her deepest feelings, and declared she could do better.

She'd walked away.

What was he going to do?

Smothering a groan, he set the glass in the sink and picked up the pile of mail. Sifting through, he studied an official brown envelope and slit it open. Two documents fell out with a letter.

Becca's new birth certificate had come in. The name change was official. His daughter was now known as Rebecca Pierce.

Fierce satisfaction uncurled. He glanced at the document, then noticed they'd also included a copy of the original birth certificate. His gaze stopped on the line that asked for the father's name.

Tristan Pierce.

His heart stopped. Slowly he read it again, the truth skittering on his consciousness to finally blast him full force.

Sydney had listed him as the father on Becca's birth certificate.

She'd never tried to hide him. Anyone could have pulled the document and found out. She'd never lied and put down her ex-husband, though everyone had naturally believed him to be the father.

Dear God, she'd told him the truth. She had been planning to tell him one day. It was right there in black and white.

The papers dropped from his fist. The memory rose up like a tidal wave, gripped him, and threw him over into chaos . . . into the past . . .

He felt her gaze on his back but refused to turn around. Quickly he dressed, ignoring the sick ache in his gut. Lately the urge to run after he made love to her swamped all thoughts of decency. What was happening to him? It was as if he was twisted inside with the need to be with her versus the need for space.




 

 

"I thought you were going to stay."

Her husky words drifted across the room. He stiffened, but pulled on his T-shirt before meeting her gaze. Emerald eyes sparked with confusion and a need that drove the breath from his lungs. That type of need was dangerous. Could he ever truly give her what she wanted from him? Why didn't she crave more, like he did? Why didn't she want to run away from Harrington and never look back? And why did she have to tell him she loved him?

The questions caused a flash of resentment to cut through him. "I can't," he said shortly. "I have an early day tomorrow. Better to get our sleep."

Her face reflected a deep hurt that only inflamed him further. "Okay. My grandparents want you to come over for dinner Thursday. I thought that would be nice."

"I already said I'd meet some friends at the marina Thursday night."

She blinked. Dragged the covers closer to her naked body, like she realized she needed to hide from him. "Oh. That will be fun. Want me to drop by?"

He saw how much those words cost her to ask, but he shook his head. "You're not drinking age yet. Remember?"

He'd gotten her into the bar before but didn't want to go through the hassle this time. He just wanted a quiet night out so he could stop thinking about his mother and the shit storm that made up his family. He needed to get away from the responsibilities strangling him, which now seemed to include Sydney.

Why are you treating her like this?

The voice had hints of his mother, faintly scolding, but he pushed it away. He was so tired of thinking all the time. Was it so wrong to want things to be simple again? To start with a clean slate, alone, with no one to judge or want more from him?

"I'll tell them we can reschedule," she said. He noticed her voice wobbled just a bit.

He gave a curt nod. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

His gut lurched. His skin burned. The words got stuck in his throat, rising up but dying before they left his mouth. He couldn't do this right now. He couldn't handle her need for him when he barely had enough sanity to deal with himself. He couldn't commit his heart to her when tomorrow was completely out of his control. He'd already lost his mother. His family. Why set himself up to lose her, too? At least this would be on his terms.

"Good night."

He left her in the bed, skin still warm from his touch, lips still bruised from his kisses, and hated himself.

But not enough to go back.

The memory dissipated like smoke.

He let out an animallike groan. His body trembled at the sudden burst of realization that tore through him.