Undoubtedly. Everything is my fault. Keep breathing now. Slow and easy.
I know how to breathe.
He surged to his feet as the elevator door opened and turned away from her. What Im surprised at, he noted casually, pushing her off the elevator, is that you still know how to laugh.
She sucked in a gulp of air and tried to pretend that comment didnt hurt worse than her ribs. Oh, yes, she knew how to laugh-hed taught her. Had he forgotten? Forgotten everything theyd once meant to each other?
She was silent as he wheeled her down the hallway lined with collages of photos from the years past, starting with Emilys birth. One shot of Emmie-small and red, wrinkled and furious, howling as she told the world how she felt about being born. Another of Rachel holding her bundle of joy, smiling with wet eyes at the now quiet baby, who stared right back at her. The two of them. Even then, it had been just the two of them against the world.
Later photos of Emily learning to walk, sitting on Rachels lap while Rachel drew a Gracie comic strip on her easel, another of Emily putting candles in a homemade cake for her mothers birthday.
There was a shot of Melanie on one of her visits from Santa Barbara, puckering up for Emilys four-foot teddy bear. A picture of the firehouse when theyd first purchased it, before renovations. And then subsequent pictures of Rachel and Emily and Melanie, covered in paint as they worked on the place. There was a picture of her neighbor Garrett with Emily riding on his shoulders. A picture of Gwen, Rachels agent, her arms around both Rachel and Emily, who held Rachels first impressive royalty check.
Behind her, Ben said nothing, and she wondered if he was even looking at the pictures, looking and feeling odd for not being in a single one. Did he feel left out?
Strange, but she didnt want him to. Despite everything, she didnt want that. She had Emily, her greatest gift, her greatest joy, because of him. She owed him for that, which was why, whenever hed asked, shed sent Emily to him via Melanie.
Bottom line was, she had this house and Emily. This was her world-stable, safe and secure. It meant everything.
In comparison, Ben had a duffel bag and a few cameras to his name. That was it as far as she knew. He liked it that way, or he had.
That theyd made it together for even six months so long ago seemed amazing now.
Rach? As if she were the finest, most fragile piece of china, Ben set a light, careful hand on her shoulder. You okay? Youve gone quiet and pale on me.
His fingers brushed her collarbone like a feather, and a shiver raced down her spine. Not signifying cold, but something far more devastating. Imfine.
Another brush of those fingers, a testing one this time, while his eyes held hers. Rachel, he murmured. Its still there. Can you feel it?
I- No, she wanted to say, but lying was ridiculous when surely he could feel the blood pounding through her body at just a single touch. Again, he squatted in front of her.
You still have those eyes, he murmured. The ones that make me melt.
She let out a nervous smile.
He smiled back.
I have no idea why Im smiling at you.
His fingers traveled up, up, cupped her face. I dont care. Just keep doing it.
She stopped breathing. His gaze was locked on hers as he slowly let his thumbs stroke her jaw. Her body responded, giving her a jolt of pleasure instead of pain for once, as if it recognized that this man, and only this man, had given her such incredible pleasure.
Ben let out a rough, disbelieving sound, then cupped the back of her head, gently holding her still as he shifted his mouth toward hers.
Move, Rachel told herself, and she did-closer, matching up their lips. It was unfathomable, unthinkable. He had no business touching her, and she had no business wanting him to, but she did. Oh, how she did.
The first light touch of lip to lip dissolved her bones, and all the pain with it. Needing the balance, she put out her right hand, gripping his chest. Beneath his shirt, his heart thumped steadily. A bit dazed now, she simply stared up at him.
With a soft murmur of her name, he changed the angle of her head and connected again. His mouth was warm, firm, giving, so beautifully giving that her eyes drifted shut and she lost her ability to put words together, to do anything but feel.
With a soft murmur of her name, he changed the angle of her head and connected again. His mouth was warm, firm, giving, so beautifully giving that her eyes drifted shut and she lost her ability to put words together, to do anything but feel.
His tongue lightly stroked her lips. Struck by a familiarity and strangeness all at once, she moaned, then again when a slow, deep thrust of his tongue liquefied her. She fisted her fingers in his shirt, holding him close, making him groan deep in his throat.
The sound was raw, staggeringly sensual, but then he was pulling back, letting out a slow breath.
She did the same, but it didnt change the fact she could still taste him and wanted, needed, more.
But that had never been their problem, the wanting.
Your bedroom, he said a little roughly.
The next room down.
He moved behind her, gripped her chair. Once inside, he stopped. There was a picture hanging on the wall, an eight-by-ten from two years before, of Emily wearing a sundress, beaming from ear to ear, holding up her elementary school diploma. Her eyes sparkled with such joy, such life, it hurt to even look at her, but Rachel looked anyway, just as she sensed Ben looking.
Did he see it? The resemblance, not so much physical, though that was there, too, but the very essence? The soul? It must have been like looking in a mirror.
God knows their daughter hadnt gotten her sense of adventure and spirit from Rachel. Before Ben, shed had nothing like that until hed come along and had shared his. Hed done more than share: hed somehow gotten so close, hed breathed his very being into her, bringing her to life during the time theyd had together.
But Emilyshed been full of life from day one.
Shes beautiful, Ben said quietly. Like you.
Ben-
Lets get you into bed.
For a moment she thought hed said lets get into bed, and her heart jerked. Yes.
No.
But when he came to stand in front of her, his face was grim, so obviously her brain was messing with her again. Dont try to move, he said. Ill lift you.
She stopped breathing, realizing just that very second what his being here really meant. He was going to have to help her, look at her.
Touch her.
Before the panic fully gripped her, he moved, not toward her, but to her dresser, where he randomly opened one of her drawers. Shaking his head at the rows of socks, he closed it and opened another.
What are you looking for?
He lifted a loose, flowing silky camisole and matching bottoms, and his eyebrows at the same time. Wow.
The two pieces were the palest of blue, softer than babys breath, and her favorite thing to sleep in. And yet dangling from his long fingers, the innocent pjs suddenly seemed like the sexiest things shed ever seen.
She was not putting them on.
You used to wear buttoned-up-to-the-chin flannel to bed, remember?
I was a kid.
Something flickered in his eyes. Not so much.
Before she could come up with something to say to that, hed tossed the pjs on his shoulder and started toward her.
In spite of the exhaustion, the pain, she managed to shake her head. I am not putting that on for you.
He turned down her bed and laughed, a low, husky sound that grated at every hormone in her entire body. Youre right about that. Youre putting it on for you.
Ben.
Rachel, he mimicked, then in opposition to his easygoing toughness, he slid his arms around her, making her breath back up in her throat, making every single thought dance right out of her head.
Easy now, he murmured. Its loose and stretchy, so it should go on easily. And gently, so gently she felt like she was being lifted by air, he rose with her in his arms. Okay? His eyes roamed her features, his mouth tight in concern.
A concern she didnt want. Put me down.
He did, on the bed, and a myriad of things hit her at once. Pain from the jarring, no matter how careful hed been. Comfort from the feel of her own bed after so many weeks. And sheer overwhelming devastation from the feel of his hands on her.
Then he reached for the buttons on her short-sleeved blouse. She let out a sound that make his gaze jerk up to hers.
You cant undress yourself, he said reasonably.
Ill- Ill sleep in my clothes.
Oh, thatll be comfortable. He looked into her stubborn face and sighed, stroking a light finger over her cheekbone. Youre wearing your exhaustion like a coat. Just let me help you.
She opened her mouth and he put his finger to it. There was a time you let me help you with anything. Remember?
She didnt want to remember, but somehow his touch, like his kiss, insinuated itself past her bone deep weariness and pain, and struck her like a bolt of awareness lightning. Get Emily. Shell help me.
Slowly Ben shook his head and removed the bunny slippers Emily had put on her feet at the hospital. Shes making you dinner. Mac and cheese. Shes under the impression youre going to bounce right back now that youre home. Bringing her up here now, when you look half a breath away from death, would only scare her.
She closed her eyes when his fingers brushed over her buttons again, squeezed them tighter as he pulled the blouse open and gently off her shoulders, past the cast on her arm, taking such slow, aching, tender care with her broken body she felt her eyes burn.
No. No falling apart until youre alone.
He unhooked her bra and slid it off before pulling the stretchy, laced pjs top over her head, very tenderly guiding her casted arm through the wide armhole. The material tugged at her nipples, and a shocking bolt of desire streaked through her.
Her eyes flew open, met his. Once upon a time hed caused that reaction, in quite different circumstances. Did he remember? Judging from the strain in his face, the slight tremble to his hands as he dragged her loose pants down her legs, hardly shifting her casted leg at all, he did remember.
Determined to feel nothing as he pulled on her pjs bottoms, then covered her up with the comforter on her bed, she concentrated on breathing, concentrated on not going down memory lane every single time she so much as glanced at him.