Why had she gone? He’d given her everything she’d needed. Everything. And still she’d left. Why? What the fuck had he done?
What if it was you she wanted?
Something closed around the remains of Xavier’s heart and squeezed hard, and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. He found himself looking around at the room again, looking at the place that he was supposed to fix, the ranch he’d spent years thinking about. And it was like a veil had dropped from his eyes.
Here he was, desperately trying to fix a place that wasn’t even terribly broken. And all for a woman who’d been dead a very, very long time. A woman who hadn’t appreciated him when she was alive. Who’d constantly told him over and over again what a disappointment he was to her.
What the hell was he doing here? What the fuck was he hoping to achieve?
Back in New York there was a woman who was alive. A woman who’d told him he was amazing. A woman who’d touched him like he was precious, who’d made him feel good about himself in a way no one else ever had. A woman who needed him like he needed her.
A woman he loved.
The fist around his heart squeezed tighter. Sure, this place was important to him, but fundamentally, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but Mia.
Whom he’d left alone in his apartment thinking he was doing the right thing, thinking he was protecting her. But of course he wasn’t. What he was doing was protecting himself. Because he was afraid. Afraid of the emotion that consumed him, the terrible need that clawed at him. The power of it, the sheer vastness of it. The feeling went beyond pity or sympathy or lust. It went deeper than mere possessiveness. It was somehow all of those things and yet none of them.
It was a terrible, awful, wonderful feeling and it scared him to death.
No wonder being here hadn’t worked. No wonder he still felt as shitty as he had when he’d first arrived. He was trying to fix the wrong thing. He was trying to fix the past, when what he should have been doing was creating a future.
A future with Mia.
A future you’ve just fucked up. Again.
His mouth went dry, his hand closing tightly around his phone.
No. Not again. That was an excuse he’d used to keep himself safe, to keep everyone at a distance, and if there was one thing he had to stop doing, it was that.
No more safety, no more distance. Mia was gone and he had to find her. Give her the one thing she truly needed in her life, the one thing she deserved most of all: love.
And maybe, just maybe, in giving her his worthless, cowardly heart, he’d finally fix himself too.
Xavier’s hand shook as he punched in another number. “Kelly? Get my chopper ready. I need to go back to New York ASAP.”
* * *
Mia pressed herself against the hot pipe at her back, huddling down and making sure the cardboard over her head was in place. It was snowing again and she was freezing, and it didn’t matter that she’d had two days of being back on the streets again, it was still hard to adjust. She’d gotten used to being warm, to being clean and not hungry. Used to being safe. Used to having someone to talk to, to touch. To hold her. Used to having Xavier.
Now she had none of those things and it . . . hurt.
But she’d tried not to let it get to her. She’d pushed away the pain and gotten on with the business of survival instead.
She’d been to the shelter and picked up some gloves. They were too big and didn’t retain heat very well, but they were better than nothing. Tony had asked her where she’d been, and she’d almost answered him, before remembering why she had to be wary. Why it was important to tell no one anything. So she’d just shrugged and moved on.
Luckily her position behind the Dumpster hadn’t been taken by anyone else, which was a blessing. Especially the first night when the temperatures had plunged and only that hot pipe had kept her from freezing to death.
She might freeze tonight, though, especially if it kept getting any colder.
Not that she wanted to die. Sure, she might not have Xavier but that didn’t mean she’d given up. On anything. She still wanted all the same things she’d wanted before she’d walked out of his apartment. Maybe the idea of ‘home’ didn’t quite mean as much to her now as it had when she was with him, but she wanted it all the same. And she would get it. Eventually. Life had no shortcuts after all.
The night was starting to close in, the temperature beginning its plunge.
A scatter of snow had crept under the cardboard and was now sitting icily against the back of her neck, melting down her spine. Shit. She was going to get wet and, without any way of getting dry, she’d be screwed. It might mean going back to the shelter tonight, which would be a bummer. She’d gotten used to sleeping by herself.