Heroes Are My Weakness(101)
“Yeah, I do.” He finally looked at her. “Sometimes we could read each other’s minds, and that moment was one of them.”
She remembered Regan’s tears over a gull with a broken wing. In her sane moments, she must have hated this part of herself.
Annie knew not to let any of the pity she felt show in her face, but what he’d done to himself was wrong. “Regan’s plan didn’t work. You still think you’re responsible for her death.”
He dismissed her sympathy with a harsh slash of his hand. “Regan. Kenley. Look for the common element, and you’ll find me.”
“What you’ll find are two mentally ill women and a man with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. You couldn’t have saved Regan. Sooner or later, she would have destroyed herself. The more troublesome question is Kenley. You say you were attracted to her because she was the opposite of Regan, but is that true?”
“You don’t understand. She was brilliant. She seemed so independent.”
“I get that, but you must have sensed her neediness underneath all that.”
“I didn’t.”
Now he was angry, but Annie plowed on. “Is it possible you saw your relationship with her as a way to make up for what had happened to Regan? You hadn’t been able to save your sister, but maybe you could save Kenley?”
His lip curled. “That psych degree you got off the Internet sure does come in handy.”
She’d gotten her insights into human psychology in acting workshops dedicated to understanding a character’s deepest motivations. “You’re a natural caretaker, Theo. Have you ever thought that writing might be your rebellion against whatever it is inside you that makes you feel responsible for other people?”
“You’re digging way too deep,” he said harshly.
“Just think about it, okay? If you’re right about Regan, imagine how much she’d hate the way you keep punishing yourself.”
His barely concealed hostility told her she couldn’t push him any further. She’d planted the seeds. Now she had to step back and see if any of them would grow. She walked toward the door. “In case you start to wonder . . . You’re a great guy and a halfway decent lover, but no way would I ever kill myself over you.”
“Comforting.”
“Or lose even a minute’s sleep.”
“Vaguely insulting, but . . . thanks for the clarity.”
“This is the way sane women behave. Tuck that away for future reference.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
The sudden constriction in her chest contradicted her glibness. Her heart ached for him. He hadn’t come to the island to write. He’d come here to do penance for two deaths he believed were his responsibility. Harp House wasn’t his refuge. It was his punishment.
THE NEXT MORNING AS SHE pulled a cereal box from the cupboard, she glanced at the calendar she’d hung on the wall. Thirty-four days down, twenty-six to go. Theo came into the kitchen and told her he had to go to the mainland. “My publisher is driving up from Portland. I’m going to meet with her in Camden and take care of some business. Ed Compton is bringing me back on his boat tomorrow evening.”
She grabbed a bowl. “Lucky you. Streetlights, paved roads, Starbucks—not that I could actually afford Starbucks.”
“I’ll go there for you.” He held up one hand as if he knew she’d object to whatever he was about to say. “I know you’re armed and dangerous, but I’m asking you to stay at Harp House while I’m gone. This is a polite request, not an order.”
He’d tried to take care of Regan and of Kenley, and now he was trying to take care of her. “You’re such a girl,” she said.
He answered that by leaning back on his heels and glaring at her, every inch of him the embodiment of pissed-off masculinity.
“That was a compliment,” she said. “Sort of. The whole nurturing thing you have going . . . ? As much as I appreciate your watchdog attitude, I’m not one of those needy females you tend to collect.”
He gave her his baddest badass sneer. “That whip idea you had . . . I’m liking it more and more.”
She wanted to rip off his clothes and devour him right there. Instead, she sniffed, “I’ll stay at Harp House, girlfriend, just to keep you from worrying.”
Her taunt had its desired effect. He took her right there on the kitchen floor. And it was exhilarating.
AS MUCH AS ANNIE DIDN’T like the idea of sleeping at Harp House, she agreed to appease him. On her way, she stopped to inspect the fairy house. Using sticks, Theo had built a cantilevered balcony over the doorway. He’d also turned a few clamshells on their sides and scattered some of the paving stones, evidence of a late-night fairy frolic. She turned to face the sun. After enduring so much cold weather, she’d never again take a bright winter day for granted.