She started to peel the phone away from her ear when a distant sound raised her hackles. She pressed the phone back to her ear again and strained to hear.
“…tell the bitch to get the money, or you’ll both be sorry.”
“Mom, who was that?” Faith demanded.
“No one,” Celia said in a faltering voice. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Familiar sadness settled over Faith, crowding her mind with a lifetime of regrets. Celia would never change. Faith had to accept that. She had accepted it, but it didn’t make it any easier to acknowledge.
“Let me say this so we’re perfectly clear,” Faith began in a halting voice. “Don’t call me.” Her voice got stronger and steadier as she allowed the force of her anger to spill out. “I have nothing to say to you. I can’t help you. I won’t help you. I can’t be any clearer than that.”
Her words came out shaky in the end as she expelled unsteady breaths. “I love you, Mom.” Her voice cracked, and she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But I hate what you’ve become—what you’ve always been. I don’t want any part of my old life back. My life with you. I’m happy now. I’m sorry, but I don’t have any desire to reconnect with you, to allow you to use me anymore.”
Faith heard a sob and honestly didn’t know whether it was her or her mother. She hung up the phone with shaky hands then buried her face in her arms on the desk.
Her shoulders shook, and she felt tears slide over her arms. When the phone rang again, she reached over, yanked the cord from the wall and flung it across the room. She lowered her head again and wept. Noisy, raw sobs racked her body. So much grief, anger and betrayal coiled in her chest like an angry snake ready to strike.
Why did she hand over so much power to her mother? Why did she give Celia the capability to hurt her so easily?
A firm hand gripped her shoulder, and she stiffened.
“Faith, what’s wrong?” Gray’s urgent entreaty cut through the red haze circling her mind.
Slowly, she pulled her head up, suddenly feeling foolish for her undisciplined emotional outburst. What if Pop or Connor had been the one to walk in? She’d have a devil of a time explaining why she was sobbing her eyes out at her desk.
She scrubbed impatiently at her eyes and looked away, determined for him not to see her tears. Her chair moved slightly, and she glanced over out of the corner of her eye to see him kneel beside her.
Gentle fingers curled around her chin and tugged, forcing her to look directly at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
Another quiet sob whispered from her mouth, and she clamped her lips shut to prevent any more from escaping.
“No, you’re not all right. That’s obvious.” He stroked the back of his knuckles over her cheek then tucked her hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong?” he asked again.
“It’s nothing,” she said shakily. “Really. I feel like such an idiot. I just got upset and overreacted.”
“It’s obviously not nothing. You’re not the type to overreact. What upset you so badly, Faith?”
No, he wasn’t stupid, and she was insulting his intelligence by denying her upset.
“All right, it wasn’t nothing, but it’s not something I want to discuss. Can you understand that?” She silently pleaded with him not to push any further.
He stared at her for a long moment. “Yeah. I can.”
He thumbed a tear from the corner of her eye. Their gazes met and hung, suspended in a timeless echo.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and edgy.
“Do what?” she murmured back.
“Kiss you.”
“Are you?”
Instead of responding, he edged closer to her, his lips hovering precariously close to hers. Her sudden intake of breath was all she had time for before their mouths met.
His hands framed her face as he pressed hot and hard against her. Their tongues met and tangled. She gasped for air but wouldn’t pull away. It consumed her. He consumed her.
His mouth inched upward until his teeth nipped and caught at her upper lip. He pulled outward then sucked it farther into his mouth. His tongue licked and laved before he released her lip and moved to the corner of her mouth.
Forgotten were her tears, her anguish. All that existed in this moment was the man in front of her. His touch, his kiss, his very essence wound around her, filling her until everything else vanished.
She reached for him, sliding her hands over his broad shoulders. Her fingers inched toward his neck until one hand cupped the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. She nibbled back at his lips. Kiss for kiss, bite for bite, lick for lick.