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Callie remembered Hayley’s innocent remark about grown-up girls and her insides contracted. She’d known it, felt it … but to hear the words, to know he’d never had another woman in the house with his children … it made her heart ache.
“He’s a good guy,” Evie said quietly. “He had a tough time with his ex and deserves to be treated right.”
Callie managed a brittle smile. “Are you warning me off?”
Evie chuckled. “Lord, no. And Noah would strangle me if he knew I was talking with you about this. Sometimes I get into my protective-sister mode and put my foot in it. But I like you, Callie. And I love my brother. So you can tell me to back off and stop meddling if you want—but I probably won’t listen.”
Callie was surprised by the other woman’s frankness. “I hear you.”
“She didn’t want her kids, you know,” Evie said as she looked over toward the twins. “Imagine that. I mean, she had a lot of emotional problems, no doubt about it … but to just walk away from two new babies … it’s unfathomable to me.” She sighed. “And Jamie was barely more than a toddler himself. As for Lily … sometimes she acts so impulsively and I’m concerned she has abandonment issues. And you’d never really know what Noah is thinking. But I guess when your wife packs her bags and tells you she doesn’t want you or your children—it must make it hard to trust someone again.”
Callie’s breath caught in her throat and emotion burned behind her eyes.
Abandoned, motherless children … and a good man trying to hold it all together. She suddenly felt the shame of what she’d said to him right down to the soles of her boots.
She’d said the words to hurt … said them knowing they would hit him hard.
She’d wounded him instead of doing what she should have done … which was to tell him the truth. About why she was so afraid. Fiona was right—she needed to tell him about Ryan.
“I have to go,” she said as she grabbed the reins and sprung into the saddle. “Thanks, Evie,” she said as she turned Indiana back toward the boat ramp and began the quick canter home.
Twenty minutes later she was back at Sandhills Farm. She untacked Indiana, turned him into one of the small paddocks behind the house and then headed inside. One telephone call and a change of clothes later and she was on the road.
She’d called Preston Marine and was told Noah was working from home that day. Within eight minutes she’d pulled her truck into his driveway. Callie turned off the ignition and got out. She heard a loud noise, like a motor running, and followed the sound around the side of the house. She saw him immediately, behind the pool fence holding a chainsaw.
In jeans and a white tank shirt, he looked hot, sweaty and gorgeous. She observed for a moment as he cut branches from an overgrown fig tree and tossed them onto a growing pile. There was something incredibly attractive about watching a man work—a kind of primitive instinct, purely female and wholly erotic. As if aware he was being watched, he stopped the task, lay the chainsaw aside and turned. He walked around the pool and came to a halt about ten feet from her.
“Hello.”
She took a breath. “Hi.”
He looked at his hands. “I need to wash up.”
Callie followed him through one pool gate and then another until they reached the patio. She waited while he slipped through the back door and then returned a few minutes later, cleaned up and in a fresh T-shirt and carrying two cans of soda.
He pulled the ring tab and passed her one. She took it, desperate to touch his fingertips, but she didn’t. “Are you playing truant today?”
“Just working off steam.”
Callie suspected she was the steam he needed to work off.
He put the can down on a nearby table. “Why are you here, Callie?”
She held her breath. “I saw your sister today.”
His brows came up. “Did she embarrass me?”
“No.” Callie stepped back on her heels. “But she said something. She said … she said you’d never invited a woman here … to be with the kids. Before me.”
“She’s right.”
Another breath, longer, to steady nerves stretched like elastic. “Why not?”
He pulled out a chair for her to sit on and then one for himself. Once Callie was seated he did the same. Finally, he spoke. “When you’re treated badly, when the person you’ve committed yourself to walks out the door and says she doesn’t want you, she doesn’t want your children, she just wants to be free, it breaks something inside you. It broke something inside me,” he admitted. “I have no illusions about the kind of marriage I had. Most of the time it was a disaster. She’d left once before—the second time I told her that was it, no more. She had to make a choice. And she chose freedom.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
Callie stood and walked across the patio. She looked at the pool and the immaculate garden and the timber cubby house she knew he would have built himself. When she’d gathered the courage to say what she come to say, she turned. He was still seated.
“I’m so sorry, Noah.” Callie inhaled heavily. “About what I said the other day. I know I … I hurt you.”
He didn’t move.
Callie took a deep breath. “The way it came out, the way it sounded. That’s not what I wanted to say. And certainly not what I meant.”
He stood up and walked toward her. “So what did you want to say?”
She placed her hand on his arm and immediately felt the heat of their touch. “That your kids are amazing.” She swallowed hard and kept her hand on him. “What I’m feeling, it’s not about them. It’s about me.”
Noah covered her hand with his. “What are you feeling, Callie?”
Callie looked at him and her eyes glistened with moisture. She inhaled deeply, taking as much into her lungs as she could. “The reason I feel as I do … the reason I push people away …” She paused, felt the sting of tears. “The reason I push you away … it’s because I lost someone.”
Noah’s grip on her hand tightened. “Your fiancé?”
She met his gaze levelly. And the tears she’d been fighting tipped down over her lashes. “No, not Craig.”
“Then who? What do you—”
“My son,” she whispered. “My baby.”
Chapter Eight (#u418be5ea-a9d5-52b7-a196-c52cb9116728)
“You had a son?” The shock in his voice was obvious.
Callie shuddered. “His name was Ryan,” she said and felt the hurt right through to her bones. “He died when he was two days old.”
She watched Noah think, absorb. “How long ago?”
“Three years,” she said quietly and inhaled. “Ten months … one week … three days.”
He swallowed hard. “How? Was he sick?”
She shrugged and turned, wrapping her arms around herself. “I was in an accident.” She hesitated, took a long breath and then looked at him. “A car wreck.”
Noah clearly knew what that meant. “The same one that killed your fiancé?”
“Yes.”
She watched as the pieces of the puzzle came together in his head. “You lost them both?” He turned her back around and rubbed his thumb along her jawline. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
She looked down, taking a breath. “Because I don’t talk about it. And we haven’t known one another very long and I didn’t … couldn’t … Well, being responsible for someone’s death, it isn’t exactly the kind of thing I want to talk about.”
Noah didn’t try to hide his shock. “How were you responsible?”
“The accident,” she replied. “It was my fault.”
“Were you driving the car?”
She shook her head. “No, Craig was driving.”
“Then how could—”
“I distracted him,” she admitted. “I made him lose concentration. And I shouldn’t have. I was angry because we argued.” She didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked up and around and then back to him. “Craig didn’t want the baby.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. He didn’t want anything other than to use me. I fell for him when I was seventeen,” she explained quietly. “I moved in with him, wanted to be with him. Craig trained me, taught me everything I know. He was a gifted rider. I thought he loved me. But I found out too late that he only cared about his career. Our career, as he called it.” Another breath. “We’d worked hard, trained hard, put in hours and used all our money. The Grand Prix Championships were at our fingertips—and after that, the big one, the Olympics, every rider’s dream. But I got pregnant and everything changed. I couldn’t ride, I wouldn’t risk riding. Craig was furious. I’d never seen him like that. We argued about it for three days. In the end, he told me I had to make a choice.”
She paused, took a long breath, gathered herself and blinked away the fresh tears in her eyes. “He wanted me to end it. The pregnancy.”
Noah’s mouth thinned. “What did you do?”
“Moved back in with my mom.”
“And then?”
“I decided to get on with my life. When I was about five months along, Craig came back. He said he wanted to try and work things out. He said he’d changed his mind about the baby, about me. And I believed him.”
She knew he heard the “but” in her voice. “What happened then?” he asked.
Callie shrugged. “For a few weeks it seemed like it would be okay. And as much as I felt betrayed by Craig, I knew my baby deserved a father. Craig even talked about setting a date for the wedding.” She paused, thinking, remembering. “On the day of the accident he came around early. We talked about me moving back in with him, about turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. He asked me to go for a drive. I was happy to do it, happy thinking everything would work out. We got in the car and drove for a while. But he seemed edgy to me, like he had something on his mind. And then … and then he said it. He said it and I knew I could never trust him again.”
Noah held her tighter. “What did he say?”
“My horse,” she replied. “He wanted my horse, Indiana. That was what he wanted. That was all he wanted. Not me, not our baby. You see, Craig was a gifted rider with a good horse, where as I was a good rider with a gifted horse. He wanted to ride Indy in the Grand Prix qualifiers. He said if I loved him, if I wanted him to be a part of my life, and the baby’s life I had to do what he asked.”
“And the crash?” Noah asked quietly.
“He was furious with me, called me a few names. He tried to touch me and I pushed him off.” Her voice cracked, sounding hollow. “He lost control of the car. We ended up crashing into a guardrail and down an embankment.”
Noah winced. He felt pain and rage rip through him. Anger toward a man he’d never met. A dead man. A man who’d hurt this woman so much, who’d broken her to a point Noah feared she’d never be whole again.
“Was he killed instantly?” he managed to ask, though he didn’t know how. His heart thundered in his chest.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And you?”
“I was rushed to the hospital,” she said. “I had a lot of internal injuries and the baby was in distress. I was pretty out of it. My mom was there and they told her there were no guarantees for either of us. So the doctors delivered him.” Tears came again, brimming over. “He fought for two days. He was so tiny. I was so sick and only got to spend a moment holding him.”
Noah swallowed, fighting the emotion in his throat. It was every parent’s worst nightmare. And she’d endured it alone. He wished he could turn back the clock and be there with her, hold her through every awful moment. He took a deep breath. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel.”
Callie looked at him. “Ashamed that I didn’t see through Craig’s lack of integrity. If I had, maybe Ryan would still be alive, maybe my beautiful boy would be with me. He’d be nearly four years old now.”
Four years old…
Noah drew a sharp breath. And the truth hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.
“The twins.” His words trailed and then picked up. “That’s why you. Ah, of course.”
Her throat convulsed. “Sometimes … it’s hard to be around them.”
Because they reminded her of all she lost.
“I’m so …” He stopped, searching for the words. Everything he considered seemed grossly inadequate. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, and even that wasn’t nearly enough.
“I needed to,” she said, and Noah felt her pull against his embrace. He let her go and she walked back to the seat and dropped into it. “I wanted you to understand that what I’m feeling is about me. Not them. Not you.”
That didn’t sound right. Her resistance, her pain was about him. And the kids. She’d lost her baby—and that loss stopped her from wanting to feel again. Noah could see her struggle. He could feel it. But he wasn’t about to let her walk away from him.
He returned to his seat and grasped her hand. “Callie,” he said gently. “What do you want to happen between us?”
She looked uncertain and he felt panic rise in his blood. He wanted her to say she wanted everything—him, the kids, the life he knew was within their reach. But her silence was suddenly deafening.
Finally, she spoke. “I’ve done a good job of putting my emotions on hold for the past few years. And as much as I’m drawn to you, Noah, I just don’t know if I’m ready to feel again.”
His fingers tenderly rubbed her knuckles as he kissed her. “I’m no expert, Callie,” he said against her mouth. “But if you feel anything like I’m feeling right now, we’re off to a good start.”
She moaned slightly and the sound undid him. He wanted her so much. Needed her so much. He felt like saying something to her, maybe tell her exactly what she meant to him. Something uncurled in his chest, thudding loudly. Liking Callie, desiring Callie had swiftly turned into something else. And this Callie—this beautiful, fragile woman who now trembled in his arms, was suddenly the one woman he wanted for the rest of this life.
“Callie?”
She looked up. And one look did it. One look from blue eyes shimmering with tears.
I’m gone …
The feeling reached right through to every pore in his skin, every blood cell, every scrap of air that filled his lungs when he took a breath.
“Spend Saturday with me,” he said quietly. He kissed her again, slanting his mouth over hers in a sweet, possessive caress and he felt her tremble. “Can you rearrange your lesson schedule?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “And thank you for understanding.”
He nodded. He did understand. She wasn’t a woman to be rushed. And because he’d waited his entire life to feel this way, he’d do his best to give her whatever time she needed.
Wear a swimsuit.
Callie hadn’t asked him why he’d insisted she make sure she had a bikini underneath her clothes for their date Saturday. However, when she spotted two long objects secured to the racks on the roof of his truck she knew why.
She frowned. “Boats?”
