Point of No Return

CHAPTER TEN

Kade followed me home, something I didn’t really have a choice in. I hadn’t asked what he’d meant by his reference to keeping me alive, and didn’t want to know. I’d had enough worrying about those who were intent on physically hurting me. At the moment, I was much more concerned about my emotional well-being.

The gravel road was long and dark, the beams from my headlights cutting through the blackness. I’d left my porch light on, though, so I didn’t have to find my way to the front door in the dark.

I didn’t look around when I unlocked the door. The crunch of Kade’s boots as he walked through the gravel made it impossible to miss his approach. My hands trembled and I had to fuss with the key more than usual before it finally turned in the lock.

I walked through the living room, pausing to flip on a light once I reached the kitchen. It was a country kitchen, homey with lots of light oak cabinets and trim, and I liked it a lot. I dropped my purse on the counter and went to the little laundry room down the short hallway that led to the garage to shuck my shoes. I took off my apron and socks, too, then tossed them into the washing machine for later. When I returned to the kitchen, I saw Kade taking everything in.

“It’s late and the motel’s at the other end of town,” I said stiffly. “You can sleep here for tonight, then go in the morning.” I’d shut off the upstairs vents to save on the AC bill—old habits die hard—but figured Kade could just open a window. Besides, it wasn’t that hot up there now that the nights were cool.

Kade didn’t say anything, the tension between us thick, so I just said, “C’mon.” Turning, I headed up the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking beneath my feet. I heard pretty quickly when he started following me.

I led Kade to the smaller of the two bedrooms, grateful that I’d shut the door on the other one earlier in the day. There was a twin bed in this one that would work for the night.

“Here you go,” I said. “Bathroom’s across the hall. Night.” I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. Of course he did. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked.

“My room’s downstairs,” I replied.

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stared at him in confusion but was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” I said, pulling away and retreating back down the stairs. He followed me again, which was starting to make me feel like a pied piper, as I grabbed sheets and a blanket from the linen closet. I set them on a chair in the living room, then picked up a sheet to begin making up the couch.

“I’ll do it,” Kade said roughly, taking the sheet from me. “Go to bed. You look like you’re about to drop.”

“Gee, thanks,” I retorted, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. I was just too tired.

I showered because I couldn’t climb into bed with nine hours of french fries and beer aroma wafting from me, but it was a quick one. I resisted the urge to peek into the living room to see how Kade was settling in before I climbed into bed, though it was tough.

Only when I was at last in my T-shirt and curled under the blankets on my bed did I allow myself the pleasure and pain of thinking about Kade and how close he was, and of how I’d thought I’d never see him again—and how, after tomorrow, I likely never would.

I woke earlier than I’d intended, then found I couldn’t go back to sleep. My stomach was still queasy in the mornings, which made my trip to the bathroom more urgent now than before I’d gotten pregnant. Afterward, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I brushed my hair until it gleamed, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. I’d planned on doing more painting today, so I dressed in an old, faded pair of cutoffs and an even older T-shirt. I abruptly realized that the shorts were too tight to fasten, right where the waistband went beneath my navel.

I lifted my shirt and turned sideways, studying my reflection. Yes, there was a small but definite bump that I hadn’t noticed before.

I stood there too long, a little awestruck, a lot afraid. Each day that passed seemed to increasingly bring home the reality that I was having a baby. It felt strange to be both excited and terrified. So far this hadn’t been at all what I’d pictured when I was younger and imagined having a child. I’d thought I’d be married, of course, and that my husband would be just as thrilled as I was. We’d paint the baby’s room together, argue over names, shop for tiny little baby clothes in tiny little sizes . . .

And just like that, I was a sobbing mess.

Dammit! The hormone changes that now seemed to rule my emotions with an iron fist showed no mercy, and I was often left reeling between being overjoyed one moment and sobbing in self-pitying misery the next.

The crying jag lasted several minutes before I could pull myself together and wash my face again. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks red and blotchy, and my shorts didn’t fit.

My eyes swam with tears again. I took a deep breath, swallowing them down. One emotional breakdown was enough before I had my coffee. Thank God the morning sickness didn’t include coffee in the list of things that suddenly made me ill.

When I entered the kitchen, wearing a pair of knit shorts with a stretchy waistband, I saw that Kade was already up as well.

And that’s as far as my thought process got.

He’d used my shower, apparently, but as usual, had dressed in just jeans. He stood at the kitchen counter with his back to me, pouring a cup of coffee. His hair was still damp and curled slightly at the ends. The muscles in his back flexed and rippled as he moved, the scars less visible in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows.

It seemed pregnancy also had an effect on my libido, because I had to curl my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms, to keep from licking Kade like an ice-cream cone.

He turned around and I was treated to the lovely view of Kade’s chest. The long scar that ran diagonally across his chest was overshadowed by two new scars, the ones from the bullets that had nearly killed him.

My hormones fled at the reminder and a wave of sadness combined with thankfulness washed over me. Even if we weren’t together, I was so grateful Kade was alive.

Kade took a sip of his coffee as he watched me. He didn’t seem startled that I was there and I thought he must have heard me retching in the bathroom. It was kind of hard to miss.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

Just then, the doorbell rang, which was odd. It wasn’t like I got company, other than when Mrs. Johnson had brought over the casserole.

The reaction in Kade was immediate. He had set down the coffee and had his gun in his hand before I’d even turned to start toward the door.

“I’ll get it,” he said, wrapping a hand around my arm.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like a killer is going to ring the doorbell before he shoots me,” I said.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do,” Kade shot back. “For precisely that reason. You’re not expecting it.”

I swallowed. Okay, he had a point, and really, he would know. While I hadn’t cared too much last night about whatever trouble had brought Kade to my door, this morning I was acutely aware that I wasn’t just protecting myself but also the little bump that made my shorts too tight.

I watched as Kade moved silently to the door, gun held at the ready, then he peered ever so slightly through the window. The tension in his body eased and I relaxed, releasing the breath I’d been holding.

Kade turned, an eyebrow raised sardonically as he mockingly called, “Honey! It’s for you.”

Frowning, I headed for the door, just as Kade opened it on a very surprised Matt.

“It’s the quarterback,” Kade said with a sneer. “And I’m sure he’s not here to see me.” He moved out of the way as I came to the door.

“Matt,” I greeted him, feeling my face get hot at what I was sure he had assumed, especially with Kade only half dressed. “I . . . I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Matt’s jaw was locked tight and his gaze was still on Kade, who I could feel behind me. He’d retreated, but not far, and I could imagine the look he was giving Matt.

“After last night, I was worried about you,” Matt said stiffly. “Thought I’d drop by this morning, make sure you were okay.”

“That’s so sweet,” I said, forcing a smile. “I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine.” My embarrassment was making a flush crawl up my neck. “Was there anything else?” I asked, trying to be polite despite wanting the floor to open and swallow me whole.

“I guess not,” Matt said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just . . . be careful.” Matt’s gaze stared daggers at Kade behind me and I noticed his eyes dropping to the scars decorating Kade’s chest. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and I guessed he was rethinking the wisdom of getting into a confrontation with Kade.

“I will,” I said. “Thanks again.”

Matt gave a curt nod, then headed back to his truck. I shut the door with a sigh. Not exactly the impression I’d wanted to give Matt, but it couldn’t be helped. Now to deal with Kade.

I decided I needed coffee before I took on the task of dislodging Kade from my home, and bypassed him as I moved into the kitchen and filled a mug for myself.

“Did you sleep all right?” I asked, thinking how weird it was to be making small talk with Kade and trying not to stare at his bare chest. My hormones started jumping up and down again when I caught a whiff of his aftershave.

“Sure,” Kade replied, his tone noncommittal.

And that was it for small talk. Deciding I needed some fresh air, I grabbed a blanket off the couch and went out onto the back porch. I loved sitting out there in the mornings. It was quiet and I could be outside without having to deal with the bugs. I sat down on the wicker couch, which had seen better days, tucking my feet beneath me and covering my legs with the blanket. The morning was a little chilly.

To my surprise, Kade stepped out, too, pulling a gray Henley over his head. I watched the muscles in his chest move as he dressed, briefly mourning the loss of the view, then he was taking the seat beside me. I inhaled deeply, but tried not to make it too obvious that I was smelling him, which would just be mortifying if he knew.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head, blowing on my coffee to cool it before I took a sip. “Not right now. I’ll make something in a little while, if you want.”

Two squirrels were gathering nuts in the yard, chattering away at one another as they scampered up one of the trees. Birds were twittering overhead and a slight breeze made the leaves rustle. It was a beautiful, peaceful country morning, and I was acutely aware of Kade sitting so close that my arm brushed his when I raised my mug to my lips.

“Why did you come here?” Kade asked.

I watched the squirrels as I answered. “It seemed like the right thing to do. If I’d stayed in Indy, it wouldn’t have been fair to Blane. Both of us needed to move on. I know people here, have a history here. I thought it’d be a good place to raise—” The words our baby stuck in my throat. I swallowed, then took another sip of coffee.

“So let me ask you now,” I said after a moment. “Why did you come here?”

Kade breathed a sigh, reaching an arm back to rest on the back of the couch. His sleeve brushed the back of my neck, causing the hairs there to stand on end. I was so acutely aware of him, it was almost painful.

“To talk you into marrying Blane.”

Well, at least he was being honest, though I couldn’t pretend those words didn’t bring a lump to my throat. He’d rather me marry Blane, have our child raised by his brother, than be with me himself?

When I knew I could talk without my voice breaking, I said, “So is that why you were being such an asshole to me last night in the bar?” Kade didn’t respond, which I took to mean I’d guessed correctly. I should’ve known. He’d always been nastiest to me when he was trying to push me away. I gave a weary sigh. “There’s nothing you can say.”

“How about if I told you that Keaston’s likely to kill you if you don’t?”

Senator Keaston. I should’ve known I hadn’t heard the last of him.

“He should be happy,” I said. “I’m out of Blane’s life for good. You’d think he’d be ecstatic.”

“Not if he thinks you’re carrying Blane’s child.”

That made me jerk my head around to look at Kade. His gaze met mine, with his black lashes so thick and his eyes such a beautiful blue, it made me want to drown in them. I pushed the thought aside.

“And why would he think that?” I asked.

Kade just looked at me.

“But it’s been months since Blane and I . . . I mean, you and me happened after . . .” This was getting awkward. “Did you tell him the truth?” I asked instead.

“Nope.”

“Why in the world not?”

“Because you and me should never have happened,” Kade said firmly. “It was a mistake.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. If Kade had slapped me, it would’ve hurt less. The look on my face must have betrayed my dismay, because Kade cursed. I barely noticed as he took the coffee cup from my trembling hand and set it aside.

“How can you say that?” I managed, my voice a near whisper.

“Because I am the absolute worst thing for you,” Kade replied. His voice was harsh with bitterness and anger, but it wasn’t directed at me. “I’m the stuff nightmares are made of, princess. I’m not the kind of man who gets the girl. We both know that.”

Of course. Kade and his damn inferiority complex when it came to him and Blane.

“I’m not a machine,” I said. “You can’t just tell me how to feel and expect me to obey. I’m not going back to Blane. It’s not fair to him, or to me, or to our child.” I got to my feet. “So you’re wasting your time. You can stay for breakfast, if you want, or leave now if you’d rather. But I’m not going anywhere, no matter what Keaston does. I have a gun, and I know how to use it, so he’d better think twice before sending someone after me. This is my home and if he wants me dead, he’ll have to come do it himself.”

I didn’t give Kade a chance to respond, just walked past him into the house. My stomach was growling and based on the limited experience I’d had so far, I needed to eat right away while I was hungry.

Grabbing eggs and a packet of bacon from the fridge, I loaded some bacon on a cookie sheet into the cold oven, then turned it on. While that started cooking, I scrambled several eggs in a bowl, adding a little half-and-half to make them creamier.

Kade walked in while the frying pan was heating, so I decided to treat him the way I would any other friend by asking him to hand me the loaf of bread from the cabinet.

I poured another cup of coffee and sipped it while I slowly stirred the eggs in the hot pan. Kade put a few pieces of bread in the toaster and searched the cabinets for plates. We didn’t speak as the food cooked, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I was trying real hard not to think about him leaving, or what he’d said to me. I’d wait until later to dwell on it and have another crying jag.

The aroma of bacon filled the kitchen as I pulled the cookie sheet from the oven. I scooped the scrambled eggs onto two plates, added liberal portions of bacon, and snagged the toast when it popped up. I set the plates and a couple of napkins on the table, then grabbed two forks.

Some things just taste better when you’re pregnant, I’d realized, and bacon was one of them. I’d taken to buying it in bulk, since it was a protein my stomach didn’t seem to mind. Whereas beef was a definite no-go.

With food in front of me, my hormones took a backseat, and I made short work of the meal. I was buttering my toast when Kade caught my eye. He was watching me.

“What?” I asked, immediately self-conscious. “Do I have something on my face?” I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth again, just to be sure there weren’t some lingering crumbs.

Kade shook his head. “It’s good to see you eating again—that’s all.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just finished off my toast. He must’ve been hungry, too, because his plate was also clear.

He helped me clean up, bringing dishes to me to load into the dishwasher. It was too quick, and then breakfast was over.

I stood, my back pressed against the counter, twisting a dish towel in my hands. I was determined not to cry. This was what he wanted and there was nothing I could do or say to change it, just as there was nothing he could do or say to make me marry Blane.

It was a sad way to end things. No one, except maybe Kade, had gotten what they wanted. There was no happily-ever-after, for any of us. Kade had been right after all.

“There’s no such thing as a happy ending.”

Kade walked over to me, not stopping until we were inches apart. I couldn’t hold his gaze, was afraid I’d start crying, so I looked down at the towel.

“Stop fidgeting,” he murmured, placing a hand over mine.

It was the first he’d touched me and I felt it to the tips of my toes.

We didn’t move, both of us breathing the same air, and my pulse kicked into overdrive. His thumb lightly brushed the top of my hand, the caress as soft as a butterfly’s wings against my skin.

My eyes slid shut, and it took all my willpower not to lean forward and press my body against his. I wanted him with an intensity that frightened me. Not just sexually, though that was high on the list. I wanted him to stay with me, be with me, build a life together. And more than anything, I wanted him to want that, too.

Kade’s other hand lifted to settle under my chin, his fingers gently turning my face up. I opened my heavy-lidded eyes and our gazes collided.

Pain and desire warred in his eyes, his brow creasing as he seemed to drink me in. My gaze dropped to his mouth. I wanted him to kiss me, could almost taste him already. My tongue darted out to wet my lips.

Suddenly, Kade pulled back, taking several steps and turning away from me. He shoved a hand roughly through his hair.

I let out a little sigh of disappointment. If he’d wanted to drop down on the kitchen floor and do it right there, I would have been an enthusiastic participant, judging by how damp my panties were. Nice. Real classy.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Manual labor seemed the way to go to work out the sexual frustration I was feeling.

“Listen,” I said, my voice throatier than usual, “I have stuff I need to get done today, so are you leaving? Or are you staying?” I held my breath, waiting for his response.

Kade glanced back at me. “It seems I don’t have much of a choice now, does it,” he said wryly.

Did I mention that besides the crying jags and emotional roller coaster I was on, it also meant my temper could be on a hair trigger and send me from zero to flaming superbitch inside of three seconds?

I was supremely pissed off in the time it took to draw another breath. Grabbing my empty coffee mug from the counter, I sent it hurtling toward Kade’s head. He ducked, depriving me of the satisfaction of seeing the heavy ceramic crack against his even thicker skull.

“Fuck you, Kade!” I yelled. “You want to leave? Then don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

My hands were shaking, I was so angry, yet tears also stung my eyes. I turned and ran up the stairs. Even though I was pissed off enough to want to yank Kade’s hair out, I wasn’t so far gone that I thought I could handle watching him walk out that door.

I burst into the bedroom that I hadn’t shown Kade last night. Standing in the middle of the room, I took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. The anger was ebbing now, leaving an overwhelming pit of despair and loneliness in its wake.

Robotically, I began setting things out to continue painting. This was going to be the baby’s room, and though I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl, I’d decided on a shade of blue that was precisely the color of Kade’s eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I remembered standing in the paint store, scrutinizing and debating the color swatches. I’d started crying then, too, and the salesclerk had looked almost panicked. He’d been very happy to sell me the paint and send me on my way.

The crib was in a huge box that I’d wrestled up the stairs and then to one corner, where it waited for me to put it together. I’d also bought a mobile, with little stars and moons, that played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” when it turned.

I plopped down on the floor with a sigh, the paint forgotten. I cranked the mobile, holding it and watching it turn as the music played.

Was I going to be enough for this baby? I’d loved my dad, had spent a lot of time with him growing up. It hurt that my baby wouldn’t have that same relationship with its dad. What was I going to say when he or she was old enough to ask where Daddy was? How could I possibly explain that Daddy had chosen to leave us? When would it not hurt anymore to say that?

Kade suddenly stood in the doorway, making me start in surprise. How the heck had he gotten up the stairs without me hearing him?

I quickly swiped at my wet cheeks and set aside the mobile. “You don’t have to stay,” I said, my voice flat, resigned. “If something happens, it’s all on me. I get it.”

But Kade wasn’t paying any attention to me. He was taking in the room, the look on his face one of stunned shock. As if he’d been pretending this wasn’t real, that I wasn’t really pregnant. And maybe he had been.

After a minute or two, he focused on me, sitting on the floor. He seemed to recover his poise and stepped forward, crouching down next to me. Reaching out, he wiped away a stray tear track. Our eyes met.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he said softly. “It kills me when you cry.”

He was so close to me. I couldn’t help leaning forward just slightly, and it was enough for me to rest my forehead against his chest. I let out a trembling sigh, my eyes slipping shut. Yes, I knew that if I had to, I could do this by myself, could raise our child by myself.

But I didn’t want to.

I had no way of convincing Kade that my need of him outweighed all the reasons he thought we shouldn’t be together. If he believed I was better off without him, nothing I said would convince him otherwise. He had to believe it for himself, or he would always have doubts, would always wonder if he should leave me.

But it felt so good to lean on his strength, even if it was only temporary.

Kade lifted a hand, settling it gently on the back of my head. It was not quite an embrace, but I figured I’d take what I could get.

“So are we painting today?” Kade asked.

I pulled back, not meeting his eyes, and nodded.

“Okay then,” he said, getting to his feet. He reached down, offering his hand, which I took and then stood as well.

I’d already painted one wall and had started on another. Kade stirred the paint and poured some into the pan, grabbed a roller, and began painting. I only had one roller, so I picked up a brush and started on the smaller areas around light switches and outlets.

We painted in companionable silence for a while, Kade being much quicker with the roller than I had been. At the rate he was going, we’d be done in an hour or so.

“Did you buy this place?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “with some of the money you left.” A sore spot with me, but I didn’t want to argue.

“Do you have enough?”

“Enough what?” I asked in confusion. “Money?”

“Yeah. Because I have more. If you need it.”

I was on all fours, but stopped painting and turned to stare at him over my shoulder. “You’re joking, right? Kade, I couldn’t spend all that money in my lifetime, much less in a month.” I rolled my eyes, then a thought struck me and I sat back on my haunches.

“Kade,” I said.

“What?” he asked. When I didn’t answer, he paused from painting to glance at me, his brows raised in a question.

“Please tell me you were making a bad joke last night when you said you’d killed ten men.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, then Kade turned back, dipping the roller into the pan of paint. “When have I ever joked about shit like that,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, because the answer was—never. Kade had always been perfectly serious and matter-of-fact about what he did.

Oh my God. Ten people. Kade had killed ten people. That was more than a baseball team. He’d killed a baseball team. Why-why-why?

My thoughts were slightly hysterical and I was reeling from the actual number. And in so little time? How many people had he killed overall? And still the question: Why?

“Take it easy. Just breathe.”

Kade was crouching next to me again, and I realized I was breathing in choked gasps.

Ten people.

“Why?” I managed, looking up at him. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s who I am,” he said.

I shook my head, adamant. “No, it’s not. That is not who you are. You’re a good man—”

“Will you stop?” he cried, jumping to his feet and pacing away from me. “I am not a ‘good man’! I never have been and I never will be, Kathleen!”

I got to my feet, angry now. “That’s not true! I know you believe it, but you’re wrong. What, did you kill those people just to prove to me how horrible you are?”

His eyes flashed blue fire as he glared at me. “I’m not explaining myself to anyone. Not even you.”

“You don’t have to,” I shot back. “You think I don’t know you? That I don’t know that all of this”—I waved my hand to indicate me and him—“and shoving me away and pushing me at Blane, that all of it is because you think you’re some kind of horrible person who doesn’t deserve to be happy?” I used quotey fingers for “deserve.” “Because you’re wrong—”

“I killed those people so I wouldn’t have to feel anymore!”

Kade’s shouting interrupted my tirade. His hands were in fists, his jaw clenched as he stared at me.

“I don’t understand—”

“I couldn’t handle the pain of giving you up,” he said, his voice much quieter. “And I didn’t want to be the person that I am without you. So I came back to Indy to say goodbye. That’s when Blane told me you’d disappeared.”

There was a lot of information in those few sentences and I struggled to process it.

Kade turned away, using the roller to cover the last few inches of the wall that needed paint, then he turned again and picked up the pan.

“I’m going to wash these out,” he said, brushing past me and out the door.

“Giving you up.”

Those words gave me hope. So he had wanted me. Kade hadn’t been lying when he’d said we’d go away together. Now just to figure out a way to convince him we could be together. He didn’t have to say goodbye to anyone, least of all me.

That thought snapped me out of my shock-induced stupor, and I hurried down the stairs, the steps creaking like crazy beneath me.

Rounding the corner, I glimpsed Kade through the window, using the hose out back to clean the brushes. I took a step forward, then was yanked backward.

I spun around in surprise, only to see a strange man in my house. He smiled.

“Oy there, lovey,” he said. “Be still now and this’ll be quick.”