Bad Girl by Night (41 page)

After that, silence, and the gentle slumping together of bodies. He didn’t pull out immediately—because he didn’t ever want to not be inside her in some way.

As was sometimes the case, nothing about their sex here had been soft, or tender. And yet—he’d never experienced anything so intense. He’d truly been loving her with his body, and he’d felt her loving him in return. He’d felt their pain radiating through them both, but he’d sensed something else there, too. He wanted to believe it was healing. He wanted to believe it was the same healing he’d felt earlier today.

But a lifetime of dealing with this had taught him—you don’t
ever
heal. Not
ever
. Maybe for a while, a long while, he’d tricked himself into believing you could. Now he knew that you might heal in bits and pieces, every now and then—but you never healed
completely
. And he never would. And neither would she.

And when all was said and done, that was why they’d still never be any good for each other.

T
hey lay on Jake’s couch, naked, beneath a blanket he’d retrieved from the bed. And, resting in his arms, peering up at him, Carly realized she wasn’t ready to let him go.

Of course, that wasn’t much of a revelation—she’d known that painfully well all along. But perhaps the
true
revelation was: Just like in bed, she could take a stand for once in her life—she could engage in a struggle for a little control here. So she revised her thought: She wasn’t ready to let him go
without a fight.

“Do you realize how broken I was inside when I met you?” she asked him softly. Dusk had fallen now, filling the room with deeper shadows than before. “I didn’t even realize quite how badly myself until you made me think about it, look at it. And I’m still not fully repaired, and maybe I never will be—but I’m a hell of a lot better off, a hell of a lot more happy, and normal, than I was before you.”

“I’m glad,” he said, sounding moved but somber, resigned.

And she went on. “So I’m not perfect. And you’re not perfect. But most people
aren’t
. I love you. And Jake, I don’t see why we can’t work through all this—together, the same way we’ve been doing so far.”

He kept his gaze down for a moment before meeting her eyes. “The thing is, honey, I’m broken, too. Way more broken than I thought. And what good can two broken people possibly do each other?”

“You’ve done me a
lot
of good,” she insisted.

He took a while before responding, finally saying, “Maybe, but . . . Carly, I’ve spent my whole life trying to save people—and I’ve come to the conclusion it’s what I’m good at. And when I’m saving people . . . it keeps me busy enough, wrapped up enough in their troubles, not to shine a bright light on my own. And . . . maybe I like it that way, maybe I
need
it that way. Back in Detroit, I can have that. Every day.”

“But then aren’t you living the same way I was? Just running in place. Not moving forward, not solving anything?”

He let out a sigh. “Maybe. But maybe that’s what works for me.”

“Forever?”

“For my whole life up to now.”

It pissed her off. He’d been so damn adamant about breaking down her walls, and
this
was the way he dealt with his
own
issues? So she shook her head and firmly said, “No. Just . . . no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I guess I mean . . . if you’re so busy saving the world, Jake, when are you ever gonna let someone save
you
?”

Another sigh echoed upward—and his gorgeous blue eyes shone on her sadly. “I’m not sure anyone can.”

“I think
I
can,” she told him. “Save you. Love you.”

Her words took Jake’s breath away—literally. He’d never thought about that—the idea of someone else saving
him
, from
anything
. He was a cop, a tough guy—
he
was the one who did the saving.

“I understand you like no one else ever will, and you understand me the same way,” she went on. “Don’t run from that, Jake. Don’t run from
me
. Let me love you. Let me love you the same way you’ve loved me.”

She made it sound so easy. And the truth was—they did understand each other. Other people he’d chosen to tell about his abuse—they were kind about it, caring, but they couldn’t really
get
what he’d experienced and the way it had affected him like she could.

Damn, maybe that really
was
what had drawn him to her so much in the beginning. Not just the hot memories of Desiree. Not just the mystery surrounding her or the anger over being lied to. Maybe it had been that underlying feeling, that not quite acknowledged fear, that she’d come through something similar to him, that had made him so damn determined to be with her once he’d met her here in Turnbridge.

And still, nothing about it was easy or ever would be. In fact, it was complicated as hell. “Carly, you’re about the sweetest woman on this planet. And I
want
it to be as simple as you’re making it sound—but think about it. We turn each other into nymphomaniacs. And . . . two people who can’t quite give up control in bed to the other? We’d want to kill each other before it was through.”

To his surprise, she simply shrugged. “So we’ll have one of those stormy relationships for a while. But Jake, I just think . . . if we can get through the storms
together
, things will be amazing on the other side.”

“Blue, sunny skies?”

She smiled softly. “Like a perfect Turnbridge summer day.”

He drew in his breath, let it back out. What she was saying—it was a damn nice idea. Damn appealing. But he was afraid she underestimated his need to feel valued when it came to his work, to make a difference, to do the thing he felt best—truly gifted—at doing. “What about my need to save people?” he asked her. “That’s the only thing that gives me any real sense of power in this world, Carly—I need it.”

“You’ll be saving
me
a little more every day,” she said, a sentiment that tore at his heart. Because yeah, he knew neither of them would ever be completely normal inside when it came to sex, but he hadn’t thought his leaving could possibly . . . stop the changes that had started in her.

“You saved that little boy today,” she went on, “and every other kid who Larry Downy might have hurt between now and the day he dies. And there are lots of ways to save people all around us, all the time, great and small. Maybe every act of kindness saves somebody a little, you know?”

He sighed. Again, she was simplifying things, big-time. But he got her point. In fact, today’s victory had made him begin to wonder what else he could do to save kids from sexual predators. Maybe there was more to be done in that area, and God knew he’d find it satisfying. Maybe he didn’t have to be on the streets of the inner city to do some good in this world.

And still . . . “What about sex? I’m not sure I can ever give up complete control there.”

“You know I’ve come to accept that in you—and even like it a lot of the time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that’s especially healthy, either,” he pointed out.

“Look,” she said, sitting up a little more, beautiful and topless before him in the dusky air. “Everybody has a sexual hang-up or two. Or some little fear or kink or fetish.
All
that, in
every
person, had to come from
somewhere
. Meaning—
most
people probably aren’t one hundred percent perfectly healthy in the sex department, right? So the way I see it is . . . sometimes I’m on top; sometimes you are. Just like the night we met. No big deal.”

He raised his eyebrows, almost amused. “No big deal? We get into physical struggles over it, Carly.”

And once again, his sweet girl only shrugged. “I’d rather struggle with you in bed a little sometimes than go through all these bigger struggles alone. Maybe there’ll
always
be a little struggle, a little push/pull, but in the end, the sex is always good, right?”

He would never even bother trying to deny that. “The best. Ever. Always.”

And then Carly lay back down, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her lovely body to his, and she whispered in his ear, “I want to love you. I want to fuck you. I want to heal you. And I want you to do all those things to me, too—every day. Don’t leave me, Jake. Don’t leave
us
.”

Damn. Jake’s skin tingled, all over. From her touch, from her words. From her unshakable faith that they could truly be good for each other, make a relationship work. He lay there, his arms folding around her, swept away by the utter closeness of their bodies, by all the things she made him feel. Almost . . . safe. Almost . . . saved. And damn, maybe she was right. Maybe sometimes . . . almost was enough. Maybe it was better to share the struggle than to run from it.

But mostly, his decision wasn’t about anything logical. Mostly, it was about the simple comfort he felt with her in his arms, whispering sweet things in his ear. “How could I?” he finally whispered back to her. “How could I leave the most amazing woman I’ve ever known? How could I leave the woman I love?”

She lifted her head, surprise and joy and relief all mingling in her gaze. Even so, she pointed out, “You almost did.”

He blinked—and said what suddenly seemed obvious. “I think that makes me a colossal idiot.”

“Then what are you now?” she asked, giving her head a pretty, challenging tilt.

“I’m
ready
,” he told her. And he meant it. “I’m ready to be the man you need, always. And to face everything together. Broken or not.” Then he flipped back the blanket covering him and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” he said. Because if he really was ready to do this, to face their struggles together, he had to start facing what was causing them, too.

He hadn’t turned in his department-issued equipment yet, having planned to stop by the police station tomorrow morning. And as he walked down the hall to the bedroom and grabbed his handcuffs, it occurred to him that now he wouldn’t even have to turn them back in. Returning to the couch, he handed her the open cuffs.

“Um, I’m good with the handcuff games,” she said, “but right now?”

He grinned at her confusion. Then held his wrists out to her. “Consider it a symbolic act. To show you I can give up control. Or that I’m gonna learn to. I trust you to put me in cuffs—I can take it. So this is your big chance. Have your way with me.”

A slow grin unfurled on her face as she slowly slipped one steel cuff around Jake’s left wrist, snapping it shut—and then closed the other cuff around
her
right one. “This,” she said, “is good enough for now. Just to know we’ll get through all this stuff
together
.”

C
arly and Jake stood at his kitchen window, peering out at the falling snow that blanketed Turnbridge on a cold day the following January. Then she caught sight of the winterberry bushes they had decided to plant together in the thicket behind his house, which they’d managed to get in the ground before autumn had passed. Now, as she’d promised him, the red berries were the only dots of color among the white, a tiny cheerful reminder that life existed beyond winter and that spring would eventually come again.

Not that she needed a reminder that life was good. She was reminded of that every day lately, in lots of ways.

The Turnbridge Police Department had been more than happy to take Jake back when he’d decided to stay, especially given the Larry Downy arrest. It wasn’t every day that a criminal wanted for nearly thirty years was apprehended in Turnbridge, and besides bringing the little town’s PD lots of good press, everyone in the department understood the gravity of getting that kind of guy off the streets.

But better yet, she knew Jake was far more fulfilled by his work than he’d been back in the summer. Over recent months, the department had gotten the state to fund a local program that allowed him to visit schools and give talks about avoiding sexual predators. It had been so well received that other departments around the state wanted to implement something similar, and this spring Jake would be traveling around Michigan, giving training seminars.

Larry Downy was now in prison. Jake had had to testify, and it had been at once difficult but freeing for him, something Carly understood very well.

And Carly had moved in with Jake. Not a lot of people did that in Turnbridge—lived together without being married or at least engaged—but she was finally learning to quit worrying so much about what people thought.

So far, she loved sharing a home with him, and her biggest problems had been getting used to driving to the shop every day instead of just walking downstairs, and then deciding where Oliver lived. In the end, she’d packed up the big cat and brought him to Jake’s with her, even though Tiffany and many of her other patrons missed Winterberry’s mascot. But this was another case where she’d figured out that life wasn’t always about pleasing other people—she couldn’t reasonably tote a huge cat back and forth every day, and she didn’t feel right leaving him alone every night from six p.m. until the next morning. And she was still wearing bright, cheerful colors and had resumed making heart-shaped boxes, which had continued to be a big seller, especially at Christmas.

Otherwise, life in Turnbridge went on. Dana had had her baby—a healthy girl named Hannah. Frank continued to man the bar at Schubert’s, and Beth Anne still kept the town in sweet treats every day. And Carly . . . Carly felt like more of a participant in her own life, like it was no longer just passing her by through Winterberry’s front window.

As for sex, sometimes it was easy—and other times there was indeed that struggle they’d grown used to. Some days the struggle was sincere, laced with the past abuses that would always be part of their existence—but other days they ended up laughing all the way through it. And sometimes Carly even
liked
the tussling and grappling a little bit—one more bit of kink she chose not to examine too closely. Because no matter how you sliced it, she’d been right—it was easier to struggle with someone you loved than to not have them at all. And thanks to Jake, Desiree was nothing but a distant memory, a part of her past now, a part she was glad to leave behind.