"No, she would've told me. We were close. We talked every day, about everything. She listened with an open mind and she . . . got me. She made me laugh and helped me look at the world in a better way. I loved her. I loved her so fucking much, and she left, and I have to live with that fact every day."
Her heart broke open and oozed the raw, angry wounds of the past. This didn't sound like a woman who'd manipulate a man or leave behind her family. This sounded like a woman who adored her sons and was trapped.
"I'm so sorry, Dalton," she whispered.
"I can't believe I told you that," he said. "I've never told anyone the whole story before." The warmth of his hand wrapped around hers. "I don't know what's happening to me," he confessed, as if he realized the secrets murmured tonight would go no further. "I don't know what's happening with us. But I've never felt like this. With anyone."
Raven didn't answer, too terrified of what confession would spill from her lips.
Her eyes stung with tears. They lay in the quiet, in the dark, for a long while. Finally Raven knew it was time. She couldn't listen to his truths and not give her own. This thing between them was too big, and right then, right there, she came to a shattering, awful, splintering conclusion.
She was falling in love with Dalton Pierce.
The words formed in her mind, and she tried desperately to focus so she could communicate all of her feelings. She dragged in a shuddering breath. "Dalton, I have to tell you something. I know you're going to have a lot of questions, but first I owe you the truth. I'm falling for you just as hard, and I'm scared to death. Because my father was the one who ran away with your mother. I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I was confused and trying to work out this whole thing in my mind. God, I'm probably telling you this all wrong, but I think they fell in love with each other and I think they were coming back. I believe it. My father wouldn't have left me, and now I know your mother wouldn't have left you. Do you understand? I'm so sorry . . . Please answer me."
Silence.
"Dalton?"
A low snore rose up behind her.
She turned slowly around to look at his face. Eyes closed, brow smooth in sleep, those gorgeous lips parted halfway to allow his breath to escape, he hadn't heard a word of her own confession.
She watched him for a while, biting her lip as she struggled to decide if she should wake him.
No. She'd tell him tomorrow.
It had to be done.
chapter twenty-two
Dalton lay awake and stared up at the ceiling. The early-morning light snuck in through the blinds and scattered dancing patterns on the honey-brown walls.
She was a cuddler. She managed to surprise him again. He'd expected her to be more like Amy Schumer's character from the movie Trainwreck. He'd prepared himself for a quick embrace after sex, then for her to roll over and fall asleep, making sure there was plenty of space and distance between them.
Instead, her arm was flung over his chest, as if imprisoning him during the night. Her face smooshed against his shoulder, and her thigh wedged firmly in between his legs, urging a morning erection. Glorious waves of gypsy hair sprung in all directions, covering him in a silky blanket. His skin felt wet, which confirmed she drooled in her sleep. Why did he find that so damn charming? Was he nuts?
She trusted him on an instinctual level that soothed the wild beast inside. It was difficult to sleep soundly with a partner, especially in the beginning of a relationship. Natural slumber required a deep innate trust and willingness to be vulnerable. He'd rarely been able to grab an hour of light rest with other women. But last night, not only had he shared an integral part of his past, he'd collapsed afterward into a deep sleep.
He stared at her relaxed form. Damn, he ached to wake her up by spreading her thighs and pushing slowly inside her. Watch her orgasm between the delicate line of slumber and wakefulness. But she needed rest.
Moving slowly, he slipped out of bed and padded naked into the kitchen. He made a pot of coffee, deciding to take a quick shower while it brewed. Pulling on his jeans afterward and leaving them unzipped, he poured a mug and stood by the window to watch the day bound into existence with joyful abandon. The sun streamed through the windows, and birds flew back and forth, playing hide-and-go-seek within the tree branches. He sipped the steaming brew and wondered what he was going to do.
He'd practically confessed his deepest emotions and been met with . . . silence.
How many times had a woman spilled intimate thoughts that bordered on the L word to him? Numerous? He was honored and humbled but had never felt even a hint of the same. Even with the few women he'd begun strong with, the spark that he hoped would turn brighter always sputtered and died like a birthday candle blown out. He'd never passed more than a hard like for another.