I loved her as much as any real man loves his wife. What I did, I did for her. I did for the family we might have one day . . . for our son.

Our son.

All at once, the fight leaves my body. I collapse to my knees in the rain, ignoring the familiar twinge of pain in my injured leg. Tears spring to my eyes and I don’t try to stop them as they pour down my cheeks. It’s a relief to finally unburden myself this way. I can feel the top layer of fourteen years wash away, mixed with the rain and my tears. My chest heaves with exertion and my lungs seem as though they might burst.

I can’t do this. I’m not ready. How am I meant to look after a kid when I clearly can’t even look after myself? I need help. Oh, God, won’t someone help me? I’m drowning in so much emotion, my mind is screaming and no amount of closing my eyes will stop the voices. Am I going mad? Have I finally completely lost my mind?

I lie back against the cold ground, the smell of wet grass filling my senses as the rain continues to fall around me. Water goes into my eyes, but I just blink it away. I’m past caring, beyond physical pain. I’m numb.

Overhead, the storm intensifies, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that’s raging inside of me. The wind howls through the trees, swaying the branches dangerously close to the ground. The rain hits me mercilessly, sending rivulets of water running down my face, my abs, my arms. I welcome the cold. It mirrors the emptiness inside me.

Night falls, yet I stay right where I am. My clothes are soaked through, plastered to my skin as it continues to rain, but it doesn’t convince me to move indoors. A bolt of lightning streaks across the night sky, lighting the entire area around me. I turn my head against the sudden light, blinking away the rain drops from my eyelashes. I blink again as a figure in white appears on the porch. I’ve never believed in angels, but right now I’m pretty sure I’m looking at one. She’s dressed in a long, white gown, her golden curls cascading around her tiny waist. Through my drunken haze, I can see she’s struggling to walk with a crutch. Anger washes over me at the thought that she might be injured. Who would harm such a delicate and beautiful creature?

She steps out into the rain, leaning heavily on a wooden crutch. I want to call out, tell her to get out of the rain, but my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, making words impossible. I can do nothing but stare at her helplessly as she approaches. She doesn’t look like an ordinary angel. Her lips are formed into a tight, thin line, and her brow is creased as she frowns at me. She’s saying something, but I can feel myself slipping away as the alcohol takes its toll on my body. I can see her lips moving, but I can’t make out the words. Her hand stings as it connects with my cheek and I open my eyes fully to see her standing directly above me, her hand raised to strike again.

She’s clearly pissed off . . . at me.

 

What the hell is he doing out here, and how the fuck am I meant to get him inside?

I brace the crutch under my arm and lean down, grabbing his hand. “Come on,” I mutter to myself, uselessly trying to pull him up without slipping over. The bandage on my leg is making things increasingly difficult. I’m just glad I had the foresight to wrap it in plastic wrap to stop it from getting wet. I finally manage to get Stone to sit up, and I put his arm around my shoulder to help him to his feet. He’s so heavy, it takes an almost inhuman strength to move. I grit my teeth against the pain in my leg as I contemplate dropping him back to the wet ground and going to bed . . . it’d be so easy.

He stumbles against me but thankfully doesn’t fall as he leans heavily against me and we move inside. I get him into his bedroom, but it’s a slow process because of my leg. He sits on the edge of the bed as I hobble around, gathering a towel from the bathroom and turning on the heat. I return to the bed and maneuver myself to sit in the wheelchair opposite him. He’s sitting there silently, his head downcast. The earlier anger I felt begins to dissipate. He looks so helpless, so lost.

My hands move to the bottom of his black tank top, and I suck in a breath as my fingertips connect with rock-hard muscle. For an alcoholic, he sure has an amazing body. I silently remove his tank top, my heart breaking all over again as I see the scars that mar his upper torso. My fingers stretch out and lightly trace one, pulling back when he flinches. What horrors has he faced to receive those scars? I wrestle off the remainder of his clothes and lay him back against the pillows with the quilt pulled up to his waist. It’s kind of ironic; I’ve just stripped off the clothes of an incredibly sexy man, yet I feel no desire churning in my gut. Instead, it’s a nurturing, almost motherly sensation. I want to protect him, take care of him.

I grip the edge of the bed for support and carefully stand up, keeping the pressure off my injured leg. I grab one of the crutches and brace it under my arm. But instead of leaving right away, I pause, staring down at Stone. He’s fallen asleep, the stain of hours’ worth of tears still evident on his cheeks. It breaks my heart. I can’t stand to see him this way.

I turn to leave when he grabs my free hand, almost toppling me over. I glance over my shoulder, and my heart skips a beat at the intense stare he’s giving me. He says just one word.

“Stay.”

Swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat, I mutely nod in agreement. Carefully moving around to the other side of the bed, I sit on the edge and strip off my own wet clothes, pulling on one of his long t-shirts I find on the ground. My hair is soaked, sticking to the back of my neck, and I quickly pull it up into a bun, securing it with the tie I always keep around my wrist. I can feel his eyes watching me, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. Propping the crutch against the nightstand, I slide carefully beneath the quilt with my back to him. It’s a little difficult with my injured leg, but I manage to position myself somewhat comfortably on the bed.

Just as I’m drifting off to sleep Stone rolls over, draping his large arm heavily across my waist, pulling my back into his chest. I freeze, holding my breath as he mumbles something unintelligent in his sleep. I expect him to wake up any second, but he doesn’t and I slowly relax into his arms. I don’t sleep. Even though I’m exhausted, my eyes remain wide open, staring into the dark of the bedroom. The rain continues to fall outside, the howl of the wind echoing the cries in my heart. Everything is screaming at me to leave, get out now. He’s too broken, too damaged. He can never care for me the way I . . .

The way I do for him.

I jerk at the realization and Stone turns over in his sleep, his back now to me. I immediately miss the warmth of his chest against my back. I care for him. I almost hate to admit it, but it’s true. When did it happen? How? We barely know one another, and yet he’s managed to completely turn my life upside-down.

And poor Zeke. I can only imagine what he must be going through right now. Torn from the arms of his mother, placed with a father who never knew he existed until recently. Who’s so fucked-up that he can barely look after himself, let alone a kid. Tears form in my eyes and I quickly brush them away as I take a deep, shuddering breath. Stone can never know how I feel. He needs help, not a woman.

I sit up straight in bed, a thought occurring to me. Stone mumbles again, but stays asleep. Glancing down at him as a flash of lightning lights up the room, I flinch when I see the long, jagged scars across his back. Grabbing the crutch next to the bed, I carefully maneuver my way around the dark room, exiting into the living room where I left my bag. I flip on the lamp as I sit on the couch and rummage through my handbag, searching for my purse. I pull it out and sort through the numerous cards until I find the one I’m looking for.