Her palm curved over his chest as if she was indeed able to hold his heart in her hand. She felt the steady rhythm of it beating beneath the bronzed flesh.
Jericho tried—he really did—but he looked down in surprise as his hand reached out and his thumb smoothed away her remaining tears. “And that matters so much to you, why?”
The horror of his childhood prevented him from becoming emotionally involved with anyone. The only way he had survived the violence was to bury his feelings until they no longer existed, yet her tears were proving to be a balm to the scars that remained, and her next words made him wish for the impossible.
Softly, she whispered, “Because you would have loved me.”
His voice thickened as he asked, “Are you so sure about that?”
Cara nodded as a glimmer of a smile formed on her trembling lips. “Yes, I’m very loveable.”
“I can see that.”
Jericho looked down at the brave woman who had bared her soul to him, and he did the only thing he was capable of doing in that moment. He reached down and picked her up into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to bed.”
Chapter 11
Jericho and Cara stared at the disaster in the kitchen.
“You made this mess; you get to clean it up.”
“All right.” Cara wasn’t going to argue. She had enjoyed the afternoon of loving that the mess had brought about.
Jericho smiled at the happy woman. He could feel himself lowering his guard toward her and thought to break the moment, but couldn’t bear to see the happiness leave her face just yet. He knew he wasn’t able to give her the love she wanted; however that was something she would have to find out for herself.
“Come on, I’ll help.”
They had set out to clean the kitchen when they heard a knock at the front door.
“Stay here.”
“I’m coming with you,” Cara said. When she saw Jericho was about to argue, she interrupted, “The shooter from yesterday isn’t stupid enough to come knocking on the door.”
Jericho shrugged, knowing from the look in her eye she had no intention of listening to him.
Cara followed closely on Jericho’s heels as he went toward the door. They were within several inches when a familiar voice rang out.
“Jericho, it’s me, Billy.”
Cara looked at Jericho in surprise as he opened the door, and a smiling Billy stared back at the both of them.
“I’m glad to see you’re okay, Cara.”
Cara took a step back, unable to alert Jericho without Billy knowing.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Jericho took a step back, letting him enter before closing the door behind him.
Cara felt panic rising in her throat. Billy was different. The color of his soul was murky, not black, but a blend of grays and mauves. Also, his mother’s ghost was no longer with him.
Billy walked into the living room, staring at Cara while Jericho followed him.
Cara tried to catch Jericho’s eye, but he wasn’t looking at her, focused on Billy with a frown on his face, instead.