Upstairs, Savannah settled Bryan in for the night. When she'd closed his door, she locked herself in the bathroom, where she could bathe her hot face over and over again with frigid water.
How stupid she'd been, she thought, berating herself. How blind, not to have seen what he was holding back. How careless, not to have built a defense against what he thought of her, underneath it all.
She would build one now, she promised herself. She would not allow herself to be hurt by the questions he asked, or the ones that were in his eyes. She would not, she swore she would not, allow him to make her feel ashamed of the answers.
She had fought too long and too hard to let anyone make her feel less than what she was.
But, though she tried, she couldn't find that place inside herself, that quiet, untroubled place where she could escape.
It seemed he could follow her there.
Methodically she dried her face and tidied the sink. All the while, she listened for the sound of his car leaving. But there was nothing but the crack of lightning, the mumble of thunder, and the mutters of old ghosts.
He was at the kitchen table when she came back down, his papers spread out. He slipped his glasses off when she hesitated, but she turned her back on him and walked outside to wait for the storm.
It came slowly from the west, and built. Like temper simmering. The wind kicked up and sent the trees waving. The roar of it—rain, wind, thunder—rolled over the hills, screamed through the woods and exploded.
There was a smell of ozone in the air. A magic smell. A violent smell. Savannah threw her head back and drew it in. When the wind lashed the rain under the shelter of the porch to slap at her face, she stayed where she was. When lightning flashed so close it seemed to singe the trees, she welcomed it.
At length, Jared put his work aside and walked out to her. She was drenched, hair dripping, shirt clinging. The air was cool, but she wasn't shivering. Finally she turned, leaned back against the post and crossed her bare feet at the ankles.
"Something else on your mind?"
He'd taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves, but he was feeling very much like a lawyer. "The question was crudely put," he began, despising the measured tone of his own voice. "I apologize for that. But not for wanting an answer. I'm asking you if you prostituted."
"That's what's called rephrasing the question. Right, Counselor?"
"I have a right to know."
"Why?"
"Damn it, I'm sleeping with you. I'm all but living with you."
As her stomach clutched and twisted, she angled her head. "Have I charged you anything, Ace?" Her eyes flashed a warning as he stepped toward her. "Don't put your hands on me now. You've got a nerve, MacKade, waltzing in here like it all belonged to you, tossing my past up in my face like you were part of it. Well, it doesn't all belong to you, and you weren't a part of it."
He stepped closer, until he was toe-to-toe with her. The storm flashed and burned in him, around him. "Yes or no."
When she started to shove him aside, he pressed her back, grabbed her chin in his hand. She bared her teeth, and her eyes shot daggers at him.
"You think I want to know? I have to know, and I'm prepared to deal with whatever the answer is. Because I'm in love with you.'' He jerked her chin higher. "I'm in love with you, Savannah."
Her eyes filled, overflowed so quickly his fingers went numb from the shock. She reared back and shoved him with all her strength. "This is how you tell me?" she shouted. "Were you a whore, Savannah, I love you? Well, go to hell, Jared. I won't have you cheapening what I feel for you. I hate that you'd make me feel cheap when I hear it, when I tell you what I wasn't sure you wanted to hear from me. I love you so much I'd settle for anything you gave me. Even this."
"Don't." He had to stop himself from springing forward when she reached for the door. He couldn't touch her now, knew he didn't deserve to. "Please don't walk away. You're right. You're exactly right."
She stared through the screen at the home she'd fought all of her life to make. She closed her eyes and thought of the man behind her, a man she'd never have believed she could have.
Suddenly she was exhausted, beaten by her own heart. "I never sold myself," she said quietly, in a voice carefully picked free of emotion. "Not even when I had to go hungry. I could have, there were plenty of opportunities, and plenty of people who assumed I did. But I didn't. I didn't make the choice for myself. I made it for Bryan, because he didn't deserve a mother who would sell herself for food or a night's rent."
She drew in a deep breath before she turned. "Does that satisfy you, Jared?"
He would have taken it all back if he could. Yet he knew that if it hadn't come out, it would have festered and poisoned everything they had. Just as he knew that there was still more that had to be said, had to be asked. But not tonight.
"Can you understand that I hate knowing you had to make the choice? That you were alone, and in trouble?"
"I can't change anything about the last ten years, and I wouldn't."
He stepped toward her slowly, testing. "Can you understand that I love you? That I've just come to realize I've never loved a woman before, and this terrible need I have for you is making me crazy?" He lifted a hand, touched just the tips of her wet hair. "Let me hold you, Savannah. Just hold you."