Heart of the Raven(24)

"I want to go home," she said.

"The car seat?" Heath pointed in the direction of the car.

"We have our own. Maybe I can call you later," Brad said.

"Anytime."

They started to walk away.

Cassie felt poleaxed. "We don't get to say goodbye?" she asked, her voice rising, panic gripping her.

The couple stopped and stared at her. Anna clutched Danny tighter.

"Cassie." Heath put an arm around her.

She shrugged it off. "After all we've done, we don't get that much?"  She'd thought she could keep herself together, but she was unraveling so  fast she couldn't even feel her legs. The emptiness in her was replaced  by one huge, beating heart with cracks running through it. "Danny-"

Heath put both arms around her. "They have to go, Cassie. They need to take him home."

The couple walked away, gravel crunching beneath their feet, the sound  excruciating to Cassie's ears. All the splits in her heart widened into  red-hot fissures. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggled to breathe.

The noise stopped suddenly, then started again, getting louder, coming closer.

Anna Torrance stood in front of her and set Danny in her arms. "Say goodbye," she said, tears still fresh in her eyes.

Cassie didn't hesitate to gather him close. Don't cry. Don't cry, don't  cry. She wanted to be able to see his face one last time, to memorize  it.

"I love you," she said close to his ear, then pressed kisses all over his face. "You be a good boy."

She started to pass him to Heath, but he shook his head. He'd already let go.

"Thank you," she said to Anna.

"I don't even know who you are," the woman said.

"My name is Cassie." She put Danny in Anna's eager arms, took a step  back, then another, deciding she couldn't watch them drive off. She  didn't have a key to the house, though, so she headed around to the  back. After a few minutes she heard them leave. Soon Heath joined her.

All he did was look at her and she fell apart. An inhuman sound came  from her, low, keening, desperate. Then the tears fell, long, hot,  endless streams of desolation. She pummeled his chest until he caught  her wrists and stopped her, yanking her into his arms, imprisoning her  there, holding her so tight she couldn't breathe. It didn't matter. She  didn't want to breathe.

She didn't know this person, this Cassie, except that she acknowledged  she wasn't just grieving for Danny but for her mother and her  grandfather and her broken childhood, and she was grateful to be in  Heath's arms.

He didn't hush her, didn't speak at all, but his body was like steel.  After a long time, she relaxed against him. "I need a Kleenex," she  said.

"Use my shirt."

She smiled a little. The muscles in her face still hurt. Had he cried?  She didn't know. She angled back to see for herself. No. He hadn't. His  face was lined with loss and pain but he hadn't found comfort in tears,  as she had.                       
       
           



       

He kissed her, a long, tender, sweet caress, then held her close again,  looking toward the west and the setting sun. With the land cleared they  could see forever. It seemed apropos. The sun set as their chapter  closed. It just shouldn't be so beautiful, she thought. But dark clouds  were on the horizon, absorbing the color, in magenta and orange and a  majestic purple.

Now what? Where to go from here? she wondered. Where did this leave her  and Heath? She'd just let go of someone she loved. Could she let go of  another one so soon?

"Let's go inside," he said.

She would have her answers.





Fifteen




The door to the nursery stood open. It was the first thing Heath saw  when they entered the house. That and a pacifier looking achingly  forlorn in the middle of the coffee table.

He didn't move. Neither of them did. Finally he said, "Go get in the spa  tub in my bathroom, if you want. I'll join you in a few minutes."

She nodded, looking beat. He watched her trudge up the stairs, then he  walked through the house, finding bits and pieces of Danny, evidence  he'd been there. His bouncy seat, a burp cloth, a fluffy blue blanket.  The damned pacifier. He tossed it all into the nursery and yanked the  door shut. Empty baby bottles he threw out. A pediatrician's appointment  on the calendar he x'ed out.

He didn't want Cassie to see any of it. He would wipe out Danny's  existence so she wouldn't cry anymore. He'd never heard anyone cry like  that.

No, that wasn't true. Mary Ann had when Kyle-

He locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He was numb. Cold. Empty. And his penance wasn't done yet.

What was left? How much more punishment was there after being given  another child to love, only to snatch him away? Take Cassie away, too?

He heard the water shut off upstairs. She would be waiting for him.

He schooled his expression as he went to join her, took off his clothes  in his bedroom so that he could just slip in and not look at her face,  not see the pain there.

She'd found a candle and brought it into the bathroom, leaving the  lights off, making it easier to avoid looking in her direction. Was this  it for them? The end? Had they forged the beginnings of something  powerful or had it been as ephemeral as Danny's time with them?

"I could get used to this," she said as he settled behind her.

"To what?" Me?

"This tub. I think it's bigger than my entire bathroom."

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but what did he expect? They hadn't  known each other all that long, and their relationship had grown out of  one common interest, Danny. "You're a minimalist?"

"I'm a cheapskate. Plus I'm not there enough to need more."

"Yet you want a house big enough to hold a lot of kids." He leaned back,  pulling her with him so that she rested against him. He didn't know how  he could feel so lost and aroused at the same time.

"I've been saving. I'll get it, not too far in the future, I think."

He didn't want inane conversation. He wanted truth and reality-but he  didn't want it until tomorrow. Tonight he just wanted Cassie.

He grabbed a bar of soap and worked up a lather with his hands then  slipped them over her shoulders and down her breasts. She drew a quick  breath and leaned more heavily against him.

"You're getting down to business," she said, her voice shaky.

"Pleasure." He wanted her. Needed her. She'd had tears as an outlet for  her pain. Tears weren't an option for him. But holding Cassie, kissing  her, making love to her-that would make his world tolerable again.

He whispered her name as he bathed her breasts leisurely. She groaned  his name as he teased her with his palms. Her back arched as he used his  fingers, drawing out her nipples, making them even harder.

He pushed a hand down her, between her breasts, down her stomach and  beyond. A low sound came from her as he let his fingers delve and  explore. His world turned hazy at the edges, but Cassie was in sharp  focus in the center.

"Turn around." He wanted to see her face as he touched her.

Water sloshed to the edge of the tub but didn't quite spill out. The  candlelight danced along her skin. There was a vulnerability he'd never  seen before. Or maybe fragility, a word he never would have used to  define her.

He stroked her skin, traveled the curves of her body with his hands,  then his lips. She straddled him, bringing herself closer, wrapping her  arms around his head and kissing him, her tongue hot, her mouth wet, her  need obvious. She was sound and motion, earth and fire, contradiction  and compromise. Her mouth slid to his jaw, then around his ear, down his  neck, licking water drops. His skin rose in tingling bumps.                       
       
           



       

He put his hands on her head, stopping her as she reached his chest. He  didn't want to relinquish control, not for a second, not yet. He was  doing this for her pleasure first, only hers.

He eased her onto her back, lifted her arms onto the sides so that she  could keep herself afloat as he pulled her hips higher and settled his  mouth on her. She tasted of soap and Cassie, woman and want, present and  future. Her heels dug into his back, raising herself even higher as he  teased her, backing away, returning, backing away again. His thumbs made  circles and dips, separating, searching, seeking what yielded the right  sounds, sounds that told him she was headed for the point of no return.

The water churned as she moved her head from side to side, her hair  floating sinuously around her head. He slowed down, made her gasp, made  her reach, made her beg. There was nothing more important than her  pleasure, nothing more urgent than to satisfy her need. He took his time  in arousing her and found his own infinity in her gratification, loud  and flattering and memorable then fading to a quiet aftermath of  shudders and sighs.