Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(89)
Author: A.L. Jackson

God, I’d been begging for that sound, my hopes soaring on a boundless high ever since Neil Holt had shown up this morning.

Jared had gone to him.

I knew it the second I saw Neil’s pleading eyes staring down at me—of course after all the shock had worn off at finding each other there, the two of us standing with gaping mouths for endless seconds. Obviously, neither of us were what the other had expected.

Then the strongest sense of pride had taken hold of every corner of my heart and swayed in the slowest dance with my spirit, because I knew Jared had finally taken the first step.

I also knew whatever meeting they’d shared had not gone well, and the man I loved with all my life had been hurt yet again.

It killed me, knowing Jared was out there alone, suffering through the anniversary of his mother’s death, on his birthday. Being helpless this way was awful. But the waiting was even harder. I wanted to run to him, wrap him up and hold him and whisper I was never going to stop loving him.

Every single one of those assertions were the truth. Because I would never let him go, would never give up on this man with the tortured, beautiful heart. But I knew I had to wait until that heart was truly ready.

Ready for what being a family could mean for him again.

Somehow I knew that meant Jared beginning with his own family. Going back to where it all started.

I tensed, listening to the door creak open behind me. My knees went weak. I supported myself on the counter, my head dipped low between my rigid arms as I struggled to find a breath through the smothering tension that pulsed along the floor.

I could feel him standing there, watching me, his own disquiet palpable in his ragged breaths.

I could feel his want . . . his love . . . and there was no mistaking his own uncertainty.

God, how badly did I want to turn? To look at him? To set my eyes on the gorgeous face I’d been missing so desperately?

But I remained rooted.

Waiting on him.

Because this . . . that’s what this had always been about—Jared finding himself beneath all the debris and pulling himself from it. This was about Jared finding his way. I always knew his destination would lead him back to me.

Subdued footsteps moved behind me, cautiously but with a distinct purpose. Drawing near. Edging forward. Each step he took sent a jolt of need straight to my failing heart. That need spiraled through me, settling in the deepest place within me, in that place that had always been reserved for him.

He paused behind me, hesitating, before he reached out and wound a single lock of my hair around his finger. Jared breathed out in relief.

As he anchored himself to me, his sweet breath seeped out against the skin of my cheek, lifting a shock of chills racing from the back of my neck and down my spine, and I was suddenly inundated with this perfect mixture of a man.

I released a staggered breath of my own.

“I missed you,” fell from my mouth, because I just needed him to know.

I missed him.

So much it physically hurt. But I would endure a thousand days alone if it meant Jared had found a way to be truly free.

He twisted his finger tighter in my hair. The connection between us glowed. Years ago, this honest and pure gesture had begun so innocently, the bond between us so naively sweet. Yet the years had given us over to something deeply profound, this childhood affinity blossoming into the greatest love.

Nothing could keep us apart.

“Aly,” he whispered urgently, and he spread the rest of his fingers out, threading them loosely in the long length of hair flowing down my back.

I shivered, and listened to his call. I tilted my face up, seeking out his.

Unprepared to find him this way, a sharp gasp rushed from my mouth. My gaze traced every line of his rugged face. His lips seemed so full and red against the backdrop of blond stubble coating his entire jawline, like he hadn’t shaved since before he walked out our door four days ago. On its own accord, my hand stretched out to cup one side of his face, my thumb trembling as I brushed it along his bottom lip.

Shakily, Jared exhaled and his mouth parted.

His cheeks were red, almost blistered from the wind and sun.

Tentatively, I lifted my eyes to meet his fully.

This . . . this was what I had been unprepared to see.

Blue eyes begged back at me. They were puffy and rimmed in a striking red, his dark, heavy lashes framing the stark evidence of sorrow, leaving them bloodshot and misty.

Emotion overflowed from them, a flood of misery and love and devotion.

And hope.

My brows knitted softly and my head listed to the side, taking him in, him staring down at me while I stared up at him, this hardened man exposed in a kind of vulnerability he’d never shown before. Moisture gathered in my own eyes, and my thumb caressed just at the side of his mouth where it trembled, where all this emotion played out, visibly and without restraint.

Jared shifted to take my face between both his big, strong hands. They were warm, secure, almost fierce in their hold.

His voice was hoarse, his expression rigid. “I have made so many mistakes in my life, Aly . . . Won’t make you one of them. Not ever again.” His eyes softened while his hold increased. “You never were. You’re a gift. A gift I didn’t know how to truly receive.” He shook his head, and mine followed the movement, locking onto him. “God, Aly, I pushed you away for the longest time because I couldn’t accept the way you made me feel. But when I couldn’t resist you any longer, feeling you became everything. And you felt so damned good I used it to cover up all the bad shit I didn’t want to feel.”

With a long blink of his eyes, he released a revealing laugh. “And God, I crave you, Aly. Need you. But I get it. I f**king get it. I can’t fully belong to you if I belong to my past, too.”

Jared’s hands went to my waist. Gently he lifted me and set me on the counter, wedging himself between my legs.

Tender hands went right back to my face, and his fingertips brushed softly against the lobes of my ears, tickling along the backside of my jaw, before they kneaded the nape of my neck.

My tears broke free, slipping into the palms of Jared’s hands.

Right where this man had always held me.

“Please, don’t cry.” He swept his thumbs beneath the hollow of my eyes, capturing all the relief spilling from me. “Don’t cry. God, baby, I hate that I hurt you. Please, don’t cry.”

I ran my fingertips across his tense brow, down between his eyes, and across the dark bags shadowing his eyes, before I cupped all of his face in my hands, stretching my fingers out as wide as they would go, holding him whole. Praying he would understand. “Sometimes it’s okay to cry.”