Full Disclosure (Homefront: The Sheridans Book 2) (25 page)

“Amelia,” I read it, almost in a whisper.

He glances behind him to where I’m staring.
“Oh, yeah. Amelia Earhart. Hannah wanted to name the plane after her. She’s
kind of one of her heroes.”

Reaching me, he bends slightly to peck a
quick kiss against my lips. Giving a slight shake of his head, he tugs off his
flight gloves, stuffs them in his pockets, and cups my face in his hands.

“I can do better than that,” he comments
just before his lips meet mine again, tender, sultry.

I taste him, a hint of coffee on his
breath. My toes tingle and my knees are weak. I pull my lips from his barely an
inch before I force the words from my mouth. “Hannah told me you were with
Amelia in New York tonight. I thought… oh God, I’m so embarrassed. I thought
Amelia… Aimee… they’re so close, you know? I thought maybe you had gotten
scared. All the crap I dumped on you on Wednesday.”

“It wasn’t crap. It was something
horrible that you survived—are surviving. I was happy that you confided
in me.”

“Well, I just thought it had been too
much for you. And you didn’t tell me where you were going. You were so evasive.
I just figured...”

His eyes roll upwards. “Oh, God, Kim, I
should have told you. I just didn’t think the timing was right. I volunteer for
a nonprofit, flying patients to hospitals where they need care. Sometimes there
are treatments available or clinical trials that patients simply can’t get
here. But it’s expensive, sometimes impossible, for them to get where they need
to be. That’s where pilots like me come in.”

He pauses, brushing his thumb against my
cheek. “A liver became available in New York. A kid here with biliary atresia needed
it. So I flew him and his mom to Teterboro so he could get a transplant. I
didn’t want to tell you before because you had once told me you don’t like
talking about things like that—that thinking about life-threatening
conditions makes you worry more about Connor because of what happened to your
brother. I knew I’d have to tell you sometime, but I just didn’t think the
timing was right today.”

I shake my head. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t. Anyone else would have come to
the same conclusion.” Suddenly, he flashes a smile. “Kim,” he turns, extending
his hand, “meet Amelia, the other woman in my life. She’s pretty gorgeous and I
do love to hear her purr when I get her engine running, but not nearly the same
way as when I get your engine running.”

Glancing at the aircraft, I laugh. “Nice
to meet you, Amelia. I’m the girl with egg on her face.”

“I think she likes you. And you look
pretty with egg on your face. So you came all the way out to the hangar to do
what? Hit me with a tire iron or other blunt object after spending my Friday
night with Amelia?” he jokes.

“No, that’s not why I came out here.”

“So what was it?”

“I—” I stop myself, trying to even
remember why I am here and then trying to figure out where to even start. “I—I
quit, Ryan.”

“What?”

“I quit. I’m taking that job that Allie
offered me.”

“That’s great. Does Allie know?”

“Not yet. I wanted you to be the first to
know.”

He kisses me again, and my entire body
feels energized by the feel of his lips on mine, despite the late hour.

“You are the best person for that job,
Kim. You’re just what her organization needs. So, why the change of heart?”

“I just realized that it’s what I want. And
that I—” I hesitate, nearly stuttering on the next word, “—deserve
to give myself a chance at what I want.”

“Damn right you do.” He tugs me close to
him. “What else do you want, Kim? I want to help you get it.”

I stare into the vibrant blue pools in
his eyes, transfixed by his gaze on me. Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he know what I
want more than anything else in the world?

But now’s not the time to tell him that.

“I want—I want to tell you
something. Something about me. About why I didn’t take that job. I didn’t think
I deserved it… or you. I didn’t think I deserved you,” I repeat, more to myself
than him.

“Because of what happened five years ago?
That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that. I really do know that. It
was something else.” I shake my head again. “This is hard. This is really hard
to put into words.” I stare down at the concrete floor momentarily, searching
for the right words, and notice how our two shadows have become one. The sight
of it somehow strengthens me. “I—I looked him up, Ryan. A few years ago. I
don’t know why. You know, it’s all out there on the internet. It’s so easy to
find people. So tempting. And I just think I thought I’d feel better if I looked
him up and found out he was miserable. Or maybe if I found out he was living a
happy life, I might have gone and slashed his tires. I don’t know.” I shrug. “I
don’t know why I looked. I don’t know what I expected to find.”

“What did you find out?”

“He’s in prison for rape. Ten year
sentence.” I can feel his muscles relax at my words.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“No. No, it’s not.” I shake my head.
“Don’t you see? He raped someone else, Ryan. After me. If I had just gone to
the police, if I had said something, maybe that wouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh, God, Kim. That’s not your fault.”
His hands slide to the back of my neck, cradling my head. “You can’t think
that, baby. You did what you thought was best.”

“Did I? Or did I just make the easy
choice?” I look away, unable to meet his eyes. “I never thought about the
possibility of him doing this to someone else if I didn’t go to the police. I
should have. God, I should have. But I still wasn’t sure what had happened. And
then when Connor was born, I didn’t feel like I had any choice anymore. I
didn’t want the truth to come out. At whatever cost. He means the world to me.”
I feel the tears drop from my eyes. “Is that wrong? Is it wrong to sacrifice
someone else’s well-being for my son’s security? For my son’s happiness?”

His hands are firm at the back of my head
as his eyes lock on mine. “Kim, you don’t know if you could have prevented what
happened to that other woman. Even if you had gone to the police, you don’t
know whether you would have gotten him convicted. But regardless, you can’t blame
yourself for what
he
did. Not to you—and not to someone else.”

“But I did blame myself. Dammit, I still
do. I should have gone to the police. I was a coward and I hate myself for it.”
The words tear through me, hot and angry.

“You were young and scared. It’s not your
job to save the world, Kim. We’re all just doing the best we can, with what we can,
and second-guessing ourselves along the way. But the system won for her and I’m
glad for it. Hopefully, she got the help she needed—the help that you
never were able to get.” He takes both my hands, kissing them gently. “The help
I’m offering you now. I’m here for you, Kim. I’m not going anywhere. Because I
love you.”

My breath escapes me and I rock back on
my heels slightly. “You love me?” My tone is incredulous at a time when I feel
I should be swept away.

“Yes. And this isn’t exactly the way I
was planning to tell you this, but yes, I love you. Completely. And I don’t
know where we’re going yet, but I sure as hell plan on going there together.”

I just stand, slack-jawed, almost feeling
as though I’m in an inexplicable dream. But so long as I’m dreaming… “I love
you, too, Ryan.”

He brushes his lips against mine, then
moving to my tear-drenched cheeks and I feel years of guilt and anguish and
fear seeping away from me, replaced by something that I never thought possible—forgiveness.
Not forgiveness from Ryan, or even from that other woman who was victimized
like me.

I feel forgiveness from
myself
.

I press my body against this man, so
desperately grateful for the unexpected serendipity that brought him into my
life. Sighing against his chest, I soak in the warmth of him, the strength of
him, till he pulls away slightly from me.

“Now, as I recall, you promised me a date
tonight,” he says. “Up for a late night dinner?”

I smile suggestively. “Or something
else.”

A
few months later

- RYAN -

“You seem a little stressed today, Ryan. Is
there somewhere else you had planned on being right now?”

I hate the sound of this woman’s voice. So
calm, collected. It’s almost melodic, and if she ever wants to trade out her
therapist shingle for one that reads “hypnotist,” then it would be a perfectly
logical trade.

“No. I’m fine. Sorry. Distracted.”

Kim is sitting on the couch with me, and she
gives my knee a squeeze. “It’s my fault. I had mixed up our schedule. He
thought tonight was a date night so he had reservations at a restaurant in Cincinnati.”

“I’m sure you can visit that restaurant
another time,” the good doctor states, and I can only grunt my reply.

In reality, the restaurant is in Brooklyn
with arguably one of the most romantic views of the Manhattan skyline across
the river. I had planned on flying Kim there as a surprise tonight. I’d cleared
it with my parents. Even with her parents. The kids are happily staying the
night with Logan and Allie where they’re sampling wedding cakes tonight. I had
it all taken care of.

“It wasn’t her fault,” I finally manage
to say. “I’m probably the one who mixed up the schedule.”

“It must be hard right now, being able to
find time to spend together when you each have a child.”

I give a quick nod and try to stealthily
glance at my watch. How much longer can this session last?

I’ll admit that Dr. Bradshaw is excellent.
I’m happy, and frankly, damn flattered that Kim invites me to take part in a
session here and there. She’d gotten the doctor’s name from Logan who has seen
Doctor Bradshaw in the past for the issues he’s dealt with—moderate PTSD,
combat fatigue, survivor’s guilt. And of course, the usual problems that must
come from being an overall pain-in-the-ass sometimes.

I’m glad that Kim felt comfortable enough
to confide in my brother a couple months ago, and to get the help that she
really needs to overcome years of locking up the reality that something truly
horrifying happened to her five years ago.

She says it’s been good for her, and I
think—no, I
know
it has. Being a part of it—coming to a few
sessions—has helped me help her. I’ve led a pretty charmed life, by
comparison. I don’t always know the right things to say to her, the right
things to do.

But the reality is, I hate therapists. Maybe
because I didn’t have to deal with it in the military like Logan did, I still
feel pretty uncomfortable sitting on this couch.

Especially right now, with a small box in
my pocket—a box I’m hoping she doesn’t see bulging in my pants.

Make it romantic, I had told Logan months
ago when he planned on asking Allie to marry him. Make it memorable. Sweep her
off her feet, I’d urged him.

I hadn’t supposed I’d be trying to do the
same thing so soon after they announced their engagement. And making things
romantic is a hell of a lot harder when kids are involved.

“We manage,” I finally respond, my fingers
lacing with Kim’s. “And it was definitely my fault about tonight.”

“It wasn’t. I shouldn’t have even made
you come here tonight. God, the last thing you want to do on a Friday night is
come to a therapist.”

“Kim, I want to do what you want to do. What
you
need
to do,” I amend. I’m the one who pushed her into getting
therapy. I’d heard it was helpful for a lot of people, including my brother.

“I know, but I should have made it
sometime other than a Friday evening. It’s just that work’s been so busy…”

Her voice trails. She and Allie have been
working at a feverish pace, raising more money for the shelter that is
scheduled to open in a few months. They had a holiday fundraiser and a
Valentine’s Day gala that both exceeded projections by at least
seventy-percent.

Kim is a hell of a fundraiser, just as I
knew she would be.

She’ll be a hell of a wife, too, if I can
just get a chance to finally ask her.

“I don’t mind, really. This is what we
should be doing. It’s not all wine and roses,” I tell her.

“You have a good, realistic view of
relationships, Ryan,” the doctor says, nodding.

I give a slight head-bob at her
compliment. She’s not one to talk much, which is why I always end up rattling
off at the mouth when I come in here. So a few words like that from her must
mean something.

“Of course,” I say. “You take the bad and
the good. That’s what it’s about. I wouldn’t want to marry her if I wasn’t
willing to—”

Oh, shit.

She turns to me, looking slightly
perplexed. “What did you say?”

Fumble. Big time. “I mean, that’s where
this is headed, right?” I make a vague attempt to backpedal. “I love her. She
loves me. I love her son. She loves my daughter. It’s a no brainer. That’s all
I’m saying.”

My stomach coils at my words. I’ve just stolen
every ounce of romance out of the topic of marriage proposals in one breath.

“Have you ever discussed the possibility
of marriage with Kim before?”

Shut up, Dr. Bradshaw. Can we just drop
this and move on? Can we forget this happened until I finally get two minutes alone
with Kim, sans kids, in front of a pretty sunset so I can get this damn ring
out of my pocket?

“I think we’ve touched on it from time to
time, haven’t we, honey?” I say.
Backpedal… backpedal.

“No. You’ve never brought it up.”

Crash.

“How does that make you feel, Kim?”

No, no, no. Don’t ask her that. Not when
I’ve got a ring in my pocket.

“Well, it makes me feel great. I mean, I
can’t help thinking about it sometimes. Thinking about the future together. About
raising our kids together. Wondering if it would work. Wondering what he’s
thinking.”

“What are you thinking, Ryan?”

What am I thinking? Aw, hell.

“I’m thinking that I wish Hannah didn’t
catch a cold last month because Kim and I were planning a weekend getaway to
St. Croix, but I didn’t want to leave my daughter when she had a fever. I’m
thinking that I had this great speech to give Kim at the shelter’s Valentine’s
Day benefit. But I couldn’t go, since I’d caught Hannah’s cold. I’m thinking
that I wish Connor hadn’t called that boy in art class a string of bad names
requiring Kim to go into the school for a teacher meeting when we had planned to
see that ice sculpture display in Cincinnati that evening.”

“I’m sorry about that Ryan.”

“No, Kim, don’t be sorry. That’s just
life, dammit. And now, when I’ve got the Cessna filled up and waiting for us at
the airfield and a reservation for dinner overlooking the New York City skyline—”

“What?”

“—I’m sitting here in a freaking
therapist’s office listening to
her
ask
me
how I feel about
marriage when I’ve got this thing in my pocket.”

Cursing my impatience, I pull the ring
box out of my pocket.

“I love you, Kim. I think I’ve loved you
from the moment I locked eyes on you in the school parking lot and it’s only
grown every day since then. I want to spend my life with you. I want to raise
our children together. I want to get through the next fifteen years or so till
they’re in college and I’ll finally be able to pull off something more romantic
than asking you to marry me in a doctor’s office.”

My tone softens, as I stare at her
bewildered face, a face that I want to see every day of my life. I take both
her hands in mine. “I promise that I’ll do better then. But I’ve been trying to
make a romantic setting for this for over a month now, and every time it gets
shot down by something or another. But maybe that’s best, because that’s just
life with kids. That’s just life,
period
. And that’s what I want with
you. A life.”

Only now, as I manage to take a breath,
do I see that every bit of color has completely drained from Kim’s cheeks. Tears
are in her eyes, and I know that can go either way for me, good or bad. Waiting,
I search her expression for a hint of a smile—something,
anything
other than this sheer shock that I see on her face right now.

The room is dead silent, and I don’t even
hear that infernal pen of Dr. Bradshaw’s jotting down notes. And I feel a wave
of embarrassment that I’ve done exactly what I told Logan not to do—ruin
a proposal in a completely unromantic setting.

Wasn’t it at a family Sunday dinner where
he had planned to do it? Hell, meatloaf at my parents’ house is a damn sight
more romantic than where I am right now, sitting here on a therapist’s couch with
my heart wide open.

She blinks. Thank God, there is some kind
of movement from her.

“You were going to ask me to marry you?”
her voice is quiet, breathless.

“Yes. I mean, not were.
Are
.” I
shake my head at my inelegance. “I mean, that’s what I’m doing right now, Kim. Because
I could wait forever for all the stars to align and for me to be able to give
you the romantic proposal that you deserve. But I just can’t wait any longer. I
love you. I want to marry you. Okay, wait… the least I can do is this, I guess…”

I hold my finger up, retrieving the box
that is still closed on my lap. I get down on one knee. “Kim, love struck me like
a lightning bolt the day you walked into my life, and now I can’t picture
spending another day without you and your son as a part of my life and Hannah’s
life. Will you marry me?”

Finally, I see the smile, and it’s like seeing
the sun for the first time, vibrant and breathtaking. The image seeps into my
soul and sets my heart on fire.

“Yes. My God, yes, I will marry you,
Ryan.”

Chills consume me and I’m sure she can
see the goose bumps on my arms as I open the box, grinning. I slip the ring on
her finger as her hand trembles in mine.

“Thank God,” I say. “Or I was going to
need Dr. Bradshaw to clear her schedule for another hour or so this evening.”

Kim laughs and I silence her with a kiss,
completely forgetting—or just not caring—that we aren’t alone.

I’m glad that Logan and Allie had the
Caribbean for their engagement. But I’ll take the glow of Kim’s smile right now
over any tropical sunset.

She’s mine. And it’s all I could ask for.