You Make Me (Blurred Lines #1)(60)
Author: Erin McCarthy

If I thought about that, then I would think that maybe I was more like my mother than I had ever realized. I would stop to think that my father had been wrong- that loving Heath wasn’t like him loving my mother. That Heath loving me was like loving my mother.

The turkey had been thrown out into the yard raw, to rot, before my mother had taken her pills and fallen back into silent vacancy, and Heath had taken me into the woods, where he had kissed me for the first time.

It was a kiss of tenderness and promise, of secrets and giddy optimism.

When the hunger pain in my stomach was too persistent to ignore I ate dried cereal from the box and chugged soda like it could fill the hole in my gut. The carbonation burbled inside me, and I wondered briefly if it were possible to explode, from the inside out. Internal combustion.

Aubrey texted to check on me as did Tiffany. I answered as briefly as possible, then let my wrist fall slack, so my phone fell a foot onto the cushion next to my prone body. I held my left hand and stared at the ring I’d put on my finger. It was a creepy thing to do, I was well aware of that. But I hadn’t been able to stop myself from drawing that onyx ring out of the satin box and sliding it down onto my finger, where it fit. Where it belonged. I admired it in the dull lamplight, using my thumb to rock it back and forth a little.

Beautiful.

Much more so than me.

I hadn’t bathed in two days and my hair was limp, greasy. Sitting up, I tied it up with its own length and reached for the shoes I had kicked off. I needed to get outside, despite the rain. Not bothering with a hat, figuring my hooded sweatshirt would work, I put my cell phone in my bra and started for the door.

The cold mist hit me and I lifted my face to the sky, blinking as the rain washed over my warm skin. It felt cold and tingling, and I welcomed it. Breathing deeply, I started jogging down the walkway.

But I lost my stride when I got to the corner and looked up.

Heath was standing in the rain, watching me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

He was fifty feet away and even though he had a hood on, leather jacket over his sweatshirt, I knew it was him. I would recognize him anywhere. He was standing there, not moving.

I faltered, not sure what to do. If I ran to him, would he walk away from me? Would he reject me again?

But I realized it was worth the risk. Him. Us. It was worth the risk. The fear of living forever without him was much greater than the fear of having him turn me down.

It was fully logical that he would be angry with me for the way I’d acted at his apartment.

But I had to know why he was there.

Regaining my step, I ran towards him, my stride becoming stronger, more determined, more desperate. My heart and body ached for it, and I ran, compelled to go to him. He had been right. There was no escape.

There would never be a me without him.

So I ran right up to him while he watched me, and I came to a stop, breathing anxious, rain streaming down over my head, clinging to my eyelashes. My hair had fallen out of the knot and tumbled over my shoulder in heavy damp strands. I stared up at him, a foot away, mouth open, wanting him to see and understand why I had done what I had, wanting him to speak.

But he didn’t say a word. He just watched me for a second, his eyes raking over my face, my lips. Then he moved quickly, his hand going in my hair and his mouth covering mine in a hard demanding kiss. I barely had time to give a cry of shock before we were clinging to each other, kiss after kiss after kiss exchanged in a hot fervor, raindrops an inconsequential inconvenience as we poured out our emotion, our love.

And I knew. I knew everything I needed to know in that kiss.

That what we shared had always been there, and our own insecurities had almost destroyed it. But nothing could truly destroy a love that was as deep as the ocean we had to cross to get home.

His grip on my head was firm, his tongue commanding, and my eyes drifted closed as I reveled in the taste, the touch of him. It was desperate and loving and deep, our reunion aching, emotion bursting.

When we broke apart, gasping, he studied me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Do I know you?” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

I gave a soft laugh, grateful he didn’t seem to be angry with me. Grateful for a lot of things. “Let me introduce myself,” I murmured. “I’m Cat Michaud Deprey. I live in Vinalhaven and I’m a track coach and an art teacher. My husband is a fisherman and we live in my parents’ old house.”

It was who I was. Who I had always been, even before I’d met Heath. We were destined to be together, on our island.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I added.

For a blink, he looked away and when he turned his head back to me, he had tears in his eyes. I’d never seen him display such deep, vulnerable emotion like that and it made love swell even stronger inside me.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said gruffly. He took both of my hands and when he lifted them to kiss my knuckles, he saw the ring I was wearing. His ring.

He gave a deep, shuddering sigh, his jaw clenched before he kissed me again, in the rain, our bodies pressed tightly together.

“Why are you here?” I asked, wiping droplets off of his eyebrows.

“Because I couldn’t accept what you said. Because you belong to me. And I belong to you. Cat and Heath.” He ran his finger over the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, brought it to his lips. “Forever.”

We lay on the dock in the dark, staring up at the inky sky. I was bundled up in boots, long johns under my jeans, layers on under my puffer coat, wearing a hat, gloves, scarf. Heath was wearing his sweatshirt, jacket, and gloves, but didn’t seem to notice the cold even though we were lying on snow. Our breath misted up, our padded hands clasped in a clumsy grip.

“Did I ever tell you about the first dead person I saw over there?” he asked.

“No.”

It was Christmas Eve and we’d bought a tree in Rockland and had just finished decorating it. Heath had wanted to see the stars and I had wanted to be outside, too, where the entire ocean spread out in front of us, as free as we were.

“It was a woman who had been shot. Apparently she was grabbed as a negotiating tool but her husband just let her be shot. Said she was replaceable.”

“Oh, God.” I squeezed his hand. I didn’t want to say anything else. I just wanted him to talk, to share.

“Yeah. You know, the military was both a good fit for me and a very bad thing. I was able to distance myself, put a wall up, because I was used to doing that already from when I was a kid. But at the same time, I completely forgot how to take that wall back down.” He glanced over at me. “I’m sorry I was guarded with you when I got here. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you.”