And that was precisely what this felt like. As if we were finally seeing each other for the first time. No more lies. No more charades. No more pretending. I was who I was. He was who he was. It was a gut-wrenching revelation, but also a freeing truth.
“I need to know you’re okay. That you’re safe. That the bastard can’t hurt you. Because, I swear to God, if he—”
“I’m okay.” I touched his face, placating him. “I’m safe. He can’t get to me,” I assured him, although I had my doubts.
I knew from experience that Nick’s obsession with me knew no bounds. I didn’t want to tell Lachlan that, though. Didn’t want to worry him more than it appeared he already was. It wasn’t worth it. Not when we’d only agreed to a week together.
Although I had a sneaking suspicion we’d moved far past that original agreement. That neither of us would truly be able to walk away after this revelation, our lives too intertwined to truly separate, even if all reason told us we needed to.
He closed his eyes, every muscle in his body relaxing. Then he rested his forehead on mine, exhaling a shaky breath. I breathed him in before releasing a breath of my own, the two of us not moving for several moments, simply enjoying this connection.
And through this connection, touching alo to alo, as he had said when he first told me about the honi, the traditional Hawaiian greeting, his truth was unmistakable. He didn’t need to utter a single syllable. In this moment, I felt that deep, spiritual connection he claimed native islanders experienced when touching bone to bone and exchanging breaths. I felt his soul, his life, his heart.
His truth.
And I hoped he felt mine, too.
“So you really had no idea who I was,” I commented. He gradually pulled away and met my eyes. My statement wasn’t an accusation. More one of wonder, of disbelief.
He shook his head subtly. “I really had no idea who you were.”
“I guess I should go ahead and buy that lottery ticket then, huh?”
He laughed, an endearing smile tugging on his lips. “You probably should.”
It was silent for a beat before I asked, “What do we do now?”
“You mean after I pick up all this glass?” He nodded toward the broken wine glass a few feet away. Then he ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing deeply. “Your guess is as good as mine, but maybe going back to the beginning might be a good idea.”
“The beginning?”
He stepped back and extended his hand. “I’m Lachlan Hale. In case you have absolutely no idea who I am, I’m a pitcher for the Atlanta Hawks.”
“So I’ve heard.” I laughed slightly as I placed my hand in his. “Apparently your face is plastered all over Atlanta, but I guess I never looked up long enough to notice.”
Adjusting his hand to link our fingers, he took a small step toward me. “But that’s what I am. Not who.”
I nodded, knowing all too well what that was like. That had been my story most of my life.
First, I was the lucky little girl adopted by the Bradfords, one of Atlanta’s most influential families. Then I was the wife of a psychotic serial killer. Recently, I was the woman behind one of the most popular bakery chains in the country.
“Then who are you, Lachlan Hale?” I asked softly, unsure I was ready to go down this road. We’d agreed in the beginning. No names. No sob stories. No expectations. All that seemed to be tossed out the window now that the proverbial curtain had been pulled back.
“Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. But I can tell you I love thunderstorms, the smell of a real Christmas tree, and a great bottle of red wine.”
I fought to reel in my smile at the memory of the first bottle we’d shared. Neither of us thought anything would ever come of it. At least I didn’t. I still struggled to wrap my head around the fact it had only been forty-eight hours since then. It seemed like so much longer. Like I’d known him for months instead of mere days. Like our souls had known each other most of our lives and our bodies were now just catching up.
Maybe they were.
His expression sobered. “And five years ago, I witnessed the girl I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with be brutally assaulted in our own home mere seconds before she drew her last breath.”
“Lachlan…,” I exhaled, heart squeezing at the thought of enduring something so traumatic.
No wonder he seemed so closed off when we first met. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably detest all of humanity myself.
“I’m so, so—”
Before I could finish, he dropped my hand and cupped my cheek. “But do you want to know the truth?”