Mayday (23 page)

“You did.” He didn't mind admitting it. “She wants me to visit Clearport on Thursday to make my final decision about running for mayor.”

“You must be so excited.” Her proud smile pierced his heart, the pleasure of seeing it almost painful in its intensity.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, determined not to be a selfish asshole of a boyfriend again. They had plenty of time to talk about his conversation with Bea. Right now, he needed to ask about Helen's big news.

“Now it's your turn to spill. How'd your interview go?”

“Oh, God, Wes. It went great,” she said. “And then afterward they asked me to leave the room for a few minutes, which was kind of weird. But when they called me back in, they said mine was the last interview, so they could officially offer me the position.”

She bounced in her seat, her beaming smile splitting her face. “I got it, Wes! I'm going to work full-time, get benefits, and be an independent adult woman again!”

“Congratulations, baby,” he said, pulling her into his arms and giving her a big squeeze. “Let me take this opportunity to echo the words a wise woman once said to me. I told you so.”

Her arms clutched him close, and she buried her face in his shirt. “I'm so excited,” she said, her voice muffled. “For both of us.”

“Let's celebrate. Do you want me to take you to dinner?” He planted a kiss on the crown of her head.

For a moment, she went still in his arms. She didn't say a word.

“Helen? Are you all right?”

When she took a deep breath, her chest pressed hard against him. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

Her voice was a bare whisper of sound against his shoulder, and he could have sworn it cracked as she spoke. But why? What in the world could have upset her when they'd both received such great news?

“What's wrong?” His brow furrowed, he waited for a response. When she didn't raise her head or speak, he chose a different question. “Helen, what do you mean? How is going out to dinner a bad idea?”

He stroked her hair as he held her close and listened for her answer. For a long time, it didn't come. She heaved another deep, hitching sigh, and her shoulders seemed to slump.

But then she drew away from him and looked up. When she did, her voice and face were as cheerful as ever. “What's wrong with going out to dinner? Are you kidding?” She gave him a look of feigned disgust. “Screw dinner. I want to go to bed and celebrate in the sluttiest way possible.”

He had no idea why she'd sounded so unhappy earlier. But she seemed perfectly normal now, and he didn't want to borrow trouble. He did, however, want to follow her suggestion for their celebration. Rather desperately, as a matter of fact. So he snapped her seat belt into place without another word and fastened his own. His truck started with a roar, lurching forward when he hit the gas too hard.

“Good plan,” he choked out.

They didn't say anything for most of the ride to his house. He knew he was grinning like a fool as he looked at the traffic and occasionally glanced at Helen, but he didn't care. He couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced this sense of absolute joy and hope. There were no clouds in his personal sky. None.

Except maybe one.

“This isn't my business. But did you and Sam—” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sharp look she sent him. “Never mind.”

A long silence. Then she caved. “You're right. It's not your business. But . . . yes. Once. Well before I ran into you at the May Day meeting. He's the only other one.”

It wasn't fair to be jealous, especially given his own personal history. He knew it. But he couldn't stop his hands from clenching on the steering wheel at the thought of her in the other man's arms. In the other man's bed.

“He's a nice man,” she continued. “But not the one for me. We're better friends than lovers. And if I'd known he was Penny's half brother, I'd never have gotten involved with him in the first place.”

Try as he might, he couldn't contain himself. “If you weren't interested in him that way, why did you go out with him to Nice Rack?”

“Like I told you, we went out as friends. I'd already informed him it wasn't going anywhere. That I didn't feel that way about him. That we wouldn't make a good couple.”

Her voice rang with sincerity. But he couldn't help but think maybe she was wrong. She had much more in common with a smart guy like Sam than a former jock like Wes. Was he being selfish when he considered dragging her to Clearport with him? Would she actually be happier here, with her job, her friends, and Sam waiting in the wings?

No
. Wes refused to believe that. God knew, he'd do his best to make her happy, no matter where they lived. He'd work his fingers to the bone to make her proud and keep her with him. He'd show his love for her in any and every way he could.

In fact, he could show it now. She should know how important she was to his life and his future.

“Can you come with me to Clearport on Thursday?” He glanced at her quickly and saw her mouth drop open in surprise. “I was planning to stay through the weekend. Do you think you could get someone to cover for you at work?”

He heard her swallow hard. “Um . . . Maybe I could get someone to cover for me. But Wes—”

She cut herself off.

“But what?” Disappointment flooded through him, and his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“I don't think that's my place,” she finally said. “They're offering the job to you, not me. You should go on your own.”

“Of course it's your place. You're my girlfriend. Your opinion is important to me.”

And I want to see if you could be happy in Clearport. I want everyone there to know we're a package deal. I want you to know that too
.

Shaking her head, she looked down at her lap and echoed her earlier words. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

No matter how much he pressed, she wouldn't explain further. So, as his driveway came into view, he let the matter drop. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration for both of them. He didn't want to ruin it by pressing her to do or say something that made her uncomfortable.

“Never mind.” He pulled into his garage and turned off the engine. “It was just a thought. Not a big deal.”

She had to know he was lying. She wasn't stupid. But she let it drop too.

“Last one to bed gets tied to the headboard!” she cried before flinging herself from the car and sprinting toward the inner door.

He took a moment to consider whether he wanted to arrive first or not, finally deciding it would be great either way. And the head start he'd given her would make it a fair race if he left the car immediately. So he did.

Running full out in pursuit of Helen, kicking off his shoes along the way, he chose to put the whole issue of the Clearport visit out of his mind.

There was no reason to worry. Despite their limited time together as a couple, they'd already built a strong relationship. He loved her, and he knew she cared about him. Whatever those shadows were in her eyes, he could make them disappear over a long, hot night. The only question was whether he'd be doing it with his wrists in cuffs or not.

When he pictured himself at her mercy, his arms stretched above his head, forced to let her touch him however she wanted, unable to move as she rode his cock and squeezed him in her slick pussy . . .

Well. He was kind of hoping the answer to that question was a resounding, viciously hot
yes
.

B
efore the sun rose the next morning, Wes turned to Helen in bed and woke her up with a slowly stroking hand between her legs. By the time she was fully awake, she was also wet and squirming in arousal, her thighs spread wide in invitation. He sheathed his erection with a condom from the bedside and nudged inside her.

Minutes later, she was crying out as she came. His hips pumped hard, rutting against her as she quivered against and around him. Only when the last spasms of pleasure had passed did he claim his own release. Planting himself as deep as he could, his cock swelling even larger inside her, he shook and roared with his release.

His head fell to her chest, and she could feel his rib cage expanding and contracting against her body with each gasping breath he took. When he shifted his hips a tiny bit, she whimpered at the lingering pleasure and tightened around him a last time.

“Succubus,” he accused, his voice hoarse.

“Could've just slept a little longer. Blame yourself,” she told him.

As the intense orgasm faded, her eyes closed in pained disbelief.

Shit
. This was not how the morning was supposed to have gone. She hadn't planned on any more physical intimacy. Instead, she'd intended to wake before him and climb out of bed. Get herself showered and dressed. Wait for him to wake up. Give him a cup of coffee and some time to get his thoughts straight. And then . . . and then . . .

Break up with him. Even if the mere prospect of it made her want to fall to her knees in agony.

She should have done it yesterday, but she hadn't been able to resist the prospect of one more night in his arms. One more memory to hold close when he was out of her life.

She didn't regret their last night together. She didn't regret the sex this morning. But she knew it would only make what she had to do more painful for them both. As would any postcoital cuddling and intimacy. So, after a quick press of her lips against his—maybe the last one ever—she got up and headed for the shower, trying not to show him how hard she was blinking back tears.

 

“We have to break up.”

She flinched in self-disgust at the harshness of her own words, the lack of any attempt to soften them for his sake or hers. But what the hell else could she say? If she tried to pretty it up, she wouldn't get through it. Instead, she'd beg him to keep her forever, only to suffer even more in six months when he left for Clearport and she stayed behind.

After the last few days they'd spent together, she no longer believed he'd toss her aside before moving, either out of boredom or desire for another woman. She didn't question his sincere devotion to her. But he clearly wanted to leave Niceville.
Needed
to leave. And that meant something had to give. Soon, before their lives intertwined any further.

Right now, her heart would break without him. In six months, it would shatter.

It was time to end this.

At her words, his head snapped up from the newspaper. His arm jerked, knocking over his mug of coffee. She rose to grab some paper towels, but a quick slice of his hand made her pause.

“No. Leave it.” His voice had that vibration she'd only heard once before, at the coffee shop with his parents. The sound of oncoming destruction.

She sat back down and began to babble. “I thought I could keep this casual until you left or we broke up. I mean, I knew I liked you and was attracted to you, but I figured I could stop myself from getting too attached since you were leaving in six months at the latest.”

Her fingers traced little patterns on the table, and her head ducked to her chest. “But I can't. I just can't. You're too much. Too . . . everything I wanted. If I stay longer, it'll destroy me when you leave. So we have to break up. For my sake. For the sake of my heart.”

When she glanced up, he was staring at her, his face hard.

“I'm sorry,” she said miserably. “I probably should have done this a couple of days ago, but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you before the May Day event. Before I knew for sure you'd have that offer from Bea and be okay without me.”

Her breath hitched. “But I want you to know how wonderful you are. How worthy of love and happiness and everything you want. I want you to
understand
, Wes.” She laid her trembling hands flat on the table and looked him in the eye, desperate for him to listen. “You would have deserved all that even if Bea hadn't decided to support you. Even if you'd never been elected mayor. Even if you never stepped foot outside of Niceville again.”

Something shifted in his eyes, and the harsh lines around his mouth softened. But he sat very still as he asked her one simple question. “Do you love me, Helen?”

She stifled a sob. “Yes.”

He leaned forward slowly, keeping those tiger's-eyes pinned to her. “And I love you. So tell me, why the unholy fuck are you breaking up with me?”

At his declaration, a burst of joy cut through her misery. Then it faded to nothing, because she knew his love didn't change anything. Not really.

“You're leaving, and another six months together will only make it more painful when you do.” She made a futile gesture. “Like I said.”

His hand reached out, quick as a whip, and caught hers. “You're making assumptions, baby. Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you?”

“You obviously want to run for mayor in Clearport, or else you wouldn't have been so anxious yesterday morning. You told me yourself how long you've wanted to leave Niceville and see the world. You have big dreams, Wes.” She pressed her fingers tighter against his. “And it's time you started living them.”

He shook his head, looking at her as if she were a particularly dunderheaded child. “All that may be true. But it still doesn't mean I'm leaving you. I love you. I want you to come with me, baby. Hadn't you realized that?”

Her breath caught. “Um, no. Clearly.”

He leaned back a little in his chair, still holding her hand. “Well, I do. Will you?”

She tried to set aside the emotions that clouded her mind, forcing herself to concentrate. To picture herself moving from Niceville to Clearport with Wes. Could she do that? Did she want to? What would that mean for her? For them both? She turned it over and over in her head as he watched her with narrowed, possessive eyes.

And each time she did, she came up with the same answer. Always the same.

She forced herself to say it. “No, Wes. I can't go with you.”

His hand almost crushed hers in its grip. “Why?” he asked in a rasp. “For the love of Christ, if you love me, why can't you go with me?”

“Wes . . .” Her voice shook. “I said you had big dreams.”

“So?” His eyes had gone flat brown, their golden gleam missing.

“Mine are small, sweetheart,” she whispered. “A full-time job. The means to afford a place of my own. Financial security and a sense that I'm living an adult life again. Right now, all those dreams can come true here in Niceville. But they can't in Clearport.”

He listened to her, his body motionless in his chair, the dark spill of coffee spreading further and further across his tile floor by the moment.

“My dreams are small,” she repeated. “But they're mine. And they're just as important to me as yours are to you.”

“We can find you a job in Clearport,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I've searched for full-time work at bookstores and libraries for three years,” she reminded him. “Three years. Including in Clearport, believe it or not. There's nothing there for me, Wes. And even if there were, what happens when your term there ends? You'll move on to the next city. You'll be the Mayday mayor coming to the rescue of another place that needs you desperately. I'll follow you. And then I'll have to find another job. And another, each time you move.”

“I'd support you if you couldn't find one you liked.” He blinked hard, the hand not holding hers clenched on the table.

“I'd be your satellite.” She looked at him, letting her own tears spill over. “But I want to be my own planet, Wes. I want to live an independent life. I can't just transfer from my parents' care to yours.”

“What about dating long-distance?” Desperation had drawn deep lines on either side of his mouth. “Why can't we do that instead of breaking up?”

She'd considered that possibility hundreds of times. Thousands. “What would that accomplish, other than dragging out our misery? There's no finish line for us, Wes. We won't ever live in the same town again. You're not coming back to Niceville, and I'm not leaving. Not even for you.”

“Am I not . . .” He choked a bit. “Am I not enough for you? Do you want someone more like Sam?”

“
No
. No, Wes.” She leapt up from the table and took his face in her hands. Shook him a little bit. “I want you more than I've ever wanted any other man. But if I moved with you, it would kill us in the end anyway. I'd resent stifling my dreams for yours.”

The wetness under his eyes felt like acid against her fingertips. She brushed it away with her thumbs, forcing herself to continue speaking. “So this has to end now. Before it gets even harder to separate your life from mine.”

“I don't think it could be any harder than this.” His lips quirked in a bitter smile.

“Maybe not,” she acknowledged. “But I'm not going to take the chance.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Give me six months, baby. Let me try to convince you. If you still want to stay here when I leave, I won't argue. Won't—” His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. “Won't try to hold on to you.”

Her face crumpled at the sight of his grief. “I'm sorry. More sorry than I can say.”

He shook his head wordlessly, his breathing labored.

“You should . . .” The thought made her want to howl, but she said it anyway. “You should find someone else. Someone who wants to live in the same big world you do. Someone who can be what you need. Give you what you need.”

She stroked his face. “I know you'll find someone. How could anyone not love you?”

For a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed him in for the last time. Felt the stubble on his face, the lines put there by the sun during his hours of running and cycling. Heard the rush of air flowing in and out of his lungs.

Then he pushed back violently from the table, wrenching his head away from her hands. Without looking at her again, he pulled a T-shirt over his head, shoved his feet into running shoes, and headed for the door. After unlocking it, he paused on the threshold and spoke, still not facing her.

His voice was so hoarse she could hardly understand his words. “You know how I feel, but it's your decision. Please leave before I get back. I hope . . .” The deep breath he took made his chest rise and fall like a crashing wave. “I hope you'll be happy, Helen.”

Then he closed the door behind him and ran down his front steps, across his driveway, and onto the street. He sprinted away without looking back. And even though she could barely speak through the sobs shaking her body, she managed to call for a cab so she could leave before he returned.

Helen waited for the cab outside, unable to stay another moment in a house filled with reminders of Wes. Unable to look any longer at the dark puddles and splatters of coffee marking the scene of their separation. Unable to stop recalling the shattered expression on Wes's face as he'd left.

From the beginning, she'd known he wouldn't be hers. Couldn't be hers, given the vast gulf dividing their lives and ambitions. She'd acknowledged how much it would hurt to walk away from the man she loved. And just as she'd expected, the grief sliced through her, sharp and pitiless. Enough to weaken her knees and clench her throat in a fist.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Not by far.

She'd prepared herself for her own pain.

She hadn't—not once—prepared herself for his.