Glow (37 page)

She parked and alighted from the car, the cool, fresh predawn air bracing her. She could have parked at the castle, but she wanted to walk through the grounds. This was her opportunity to finally say good-bye to one of the best experiences of her life. She hoped camp had changed all of the kids who'd attended in a positive way, even if it was just a little. In her case, she felt like the weeks spent on that shore, and the weeks in Dylan's arms, had changed her forever.

She walked through the desolate camp, past the main lodge, and past her and Kuvi's cabin. She knew from texts and e-mail correspondence that Kuvi had accepted a position at Durand's London offices, while Dave Epstein had taken a position in New York. They had grown so close, they were going to attempt a long-distance relationship and see how it worked out. Alice was glad her two friends were finding happiness with each other.

She paused by the Red Team's cabin. The fact that she'd never been able to say good-bye to her kids still pained her hugely. Had they begun school yet? Terrance would be trying out for football, and Judith triumphantly starting her senior year. She almost went up to the door and tried to get in. Perhaps the custodian had accidentally left it unlocked?

But no . . . that was part of her past now. And the present was calling her in the direction of the woods.

Hopefully, her future was, as well. As she followed the path to the stables, however, Alice was having some major doubts and misgiving about that.

The stable door was unlocked, which meant that Dylan was there already. Before her anxious anticipation had the chance to mount even higher, she immediately caught sight of him. She'd interrupted him as he lifted Kar Kalim's heavy saddle. He looked around, saw her, and immediately dropped the saddle back onto its stand.

For several lung-burning seconds, they just stared at one another.

He wore jeans, riding gloves, boots, and a rust-colored T-shirt. His biceps still bulged with tension beneath the short sleeves, even though he'd released the heavy saddle. He'd grown a goatee since she'd last seen him, and his hair was a little longer. The dark facial hair was neatly trimmed and highlighted his hard, sensual mouth. His dark eyes were as compelling as she remembered. More so. Those lustrous gypsy eyes slowly moved over her now, making her intensely aware of every square inch of her body.

“What are you doing here, Alice?”

She wilted a little at his brusque tone. He
was
still mad at her. She wasn't expecting anything different, really, but the evidence of his anger dented her waning courage.

“I came for the press conference, and . . .” She swallowed thickly. Her uncertainty swelled now that she stood here face-to-face with him. The bond she always felt with him remained, that electrical physical and sensual awareness of him. But his expression was so cold and forbidding. The combination of connection and distance pained her.

“And?” he asked, letting go of the saddle and unsnapping a glove. Her confidence faltered even more in the face of his cool reception. He glanced up after he'd pulled off both gloves and shoved them in his back pocket. His dark eyebrows quirked up in a gesture that seemed to say,
Well?

“I walked through the camp. It seemed so empty,” she said with a fake smile, waving at the camp.

“So you came to see the camp?”

“I came to see you,” she blurted out. “I . . . I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Dylan, why are you making this so hard?” she asked, her frustration and anxiety getting the best of her.

“Because I don't know what you're here to say,” he replied succinctly. Their stares held, and this time, she felt the edge of his
emotional state. He wasn't as cold to her arrival as he'd first seemed. She hesitated, overwhelmed by longing for him and her sense of frustration at expressing herself. She wasn't
good
at this. His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her struggle.

“I can't do everything, Alice,” he said roughly, his mouth hard. “Some steps, you've got to make on your own.”

She stood there, awash in helplessness, as he lifted the saddle with one sure movement, turned, and walked away.

*   *   *

HE'D
arrived at the stables a little early that morning. It was going to be a long day. His nerves were frayed, for more reasons than one. The press conference was scheduled for eleven a.m. in the ballroom of a large local resort hotel. The Durand public relations department and his admin, Mrs. Davenport, had things running smoothly.

On his end, the waters were pretty choppy, though. It seemed that every Durand department head and manager, both national and international, wanted to talk to him, making for some hectic days and nights of late. There was an unsettled feeling in the large company, and people wanted reassurance. He'd told Mrs. Davenport when they made the press conference public, and rumors started to leak, that he would handle all the calls personally. If he could assuage any anxieties by talking to people one on one, he would.

Today would be the most hectic day of all. Charlie Towsen had diligently been keeping him apprised of his interactions with Alice, so he knew she'd agreed to the press conference. The fact that he'd see her later at the press conference had him pretty edgy. Not knowing what she was thinking about their meeting—what she was thinking about
anything
—was driving him crazy.

A vigorous ride on Kar Kalim would clear his head.

Maybe.

There wasn't a chance in hell.

He reached for the saddle. He heard the stable door open and glanced around in surprise. It was only five thirty in the morning.

She stood just inside the closed door. A mild shock seemed to pass through him and he let go of the saddle without intending to. They just stared at each other, the moment stretching tight.

She'd mostly healed, he realized numbly, his eyes eating up the vision of her. There was still a little fading discoloration from bruising on her right cheek. It only seemed to make her lovelier, somehow emphasizing her finely made, delicate bone structure and the smooth radiance of her skin. She looked the same, but
different
as well, to his stunned gaze. Her hair had been cut and styled, the color returned to what he'd guess was her natural one—a shining auburn with gold highlights. She'd had it cut in a short, asymmetrical style that highlighted her elegant neck, large eyes, and beautiful face, to say nothing of her nonconformist spirit. The haircut was surprisingly crisp, chic, and professional-looking. It made her look more sophisticated he realized. He was glad to see her newfound maturity, but also saddened a little. He knew what had aged her. She'd changed while away from him, and that in itself was sad.

He thought maybe he'd aged right along with her on that night in July. And in the days since then, he'd sometimes felt ancient.

Using all his will, he resisted the urge to go to her. No matter what he was feeling, he didn't know what she was experiencing. Watching her walk away had cut him to the bone. He couldn't watch her do it again with his defenses lowered.

“What are you doing here, Alice?”

“I came for the press conference, and . . .” She swallowed thickly. He'd thought it so many times before; that she was like a wild creature. But this morning was different. Always before, he'd wondered if Alice would show her feral nature by baring her teeth.
Today, there was more of a doe-like, skittish quality to her wildness. His heart went out to her. She was vulnerable.

But so was he.

“And?” he asked briskly. Needing something to distract him, he started to take off his gloves.
Why didn't she speak?
He looked at her with edgy expectancy.

“I walked through the camp. It seemed so empty,” she said with a shaky smile, waving at the door.

“So you came to see the camp?” he asked bluntly. He felt like a man poised in front of a firing squad with someone who was hesitant about giving the order to fire.

“I came to see you. I . . . I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Dylan, why are you making this so hard?”

“Because I don't know what you're here to say,” he bit out in frustration.

Their stares held. He perfectly sensed her desperation and vulnerability. She wasn't any better at this than he was. No, she was worse at it, the truth be told. He
knew
that about her. The desire to go to her nearly overwhelmed him. But these were steps Alice needed to make on her own, whether they were ones toward him . . . or in the opposite direction.

“I can't do everything, Alice,” he said, his voice vibrating with emotion. “Some steps, you've got to make on your own.”

Steeped in frustration, he hefted Kar Kalim's saddle and started back toward the stalls.

“Dylan. No . . . wait. Damn it, will you
listen
to me?”

It was the reemergence of Alice's characteristic acerbic tone that made him turn to face her, more than anything. He tossed Kar Kalim's saddle to the floor in irritation.

“What? What do you want to say, Alice? Spit it
out
, for Christ's sake.”

She'd hurried after him when he walked away. Five feet was all that separated them now. She made a huffing sound at his challenge, her eyes wide in outrage at his harshness. She opened her mouth, as if to give him some smart-ass retort. He resisted a strong urge to close the distance between them and thrust his tongue between her lips, shut her up in the best way possible . . .

Maybe she caught a sense of how violently chaotic his emotions were at the moment, because her mouth snapped shut.

“I told you that I needed some space. Some time,” she began.

He merely nodded once, waiting, his lungs burning, his muscles clenched tight in order to still his urge to move.

She shut her eyes briefly, as if summoning strength, before she continued.

“I thought a lot about things while I was at Maggie's. With Kehoe's sentencing coming up, I thought about what my life would have been like if he'd never entered the picture,” she said hoarsely. “I thought a lot about what he'd cost me: a father and a mother, a loving home, a normal, secure, blessed existence.”

“You're right. He took all that from you,” Dylan agreed.

He saw her elegant throat contract as she swallowed. She stepped closer. His heartbeat started to pound in his ears.

“He took more than that. He took you,” she said shakily, even though her gaze was steady and fierce. “For twenty years of my life, he took you. I don't want to let him take anymore, Dylan.”

For a moment, everything narrowed down to her large, entreating eyes, her beautiful, soft mouth, and the roar of his heart in his ears.
She isn't going to run again.

“I don't want that, either,” he admitted, steeling himself. “But it's not Kehoe's choice anymore. It's yours.”

“I know that. Now. That's why I'm here. I'm sorry I left. I was just so confused. And I'm sorry that I said I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I didn't trust in us. I shouldn't let people like Sissy or Kehoe rule me, to believe that everything is potentially bad or ugly. Or wrong.” She
met his stare, clearly undone by the strength of her emotions. “Because you're beautiful to me, and it
was
wrong. It was
so
wrong of me to turn away from something so right because I was afraid—”

“Alice,” he interrupted, wincing.
Screw
caution. He started to breech the distance between them.

“No, no let me finish,” she said, sounding almost panicked. She impatiently wiped a single tear from her cheek. It was as if now that the dam had broken on her hesitancy, she was determined to get everything out in a rush. She swallowed thickly and met his stare.

“Remember how I told you that after I had that dream about Alan and me, and how I was running to dinner and he was right behind me? Such a common, mundane memory, and yet when he spoke to me, there was so much love.” Another tear spilled down her cheek. “Or when I had that memory of playing hide-and-seek with Lynn, there was
no
fear. Nearly every second of my life must have been filled with happiness and trust and love.

“And then when I was here with you, I would think: How am I supposed to ever come to terms with the idea that I once was Addie Durand? I'm so different from her
. I
don't trust.
I
don't hope beyond the ordinary,” she said shakily, touching her breast. “And
everything
about you, everything about us, was so extraordinary.”

“Baby,” he muttered gruffly. Her struggle had become unbearable to witness.

“No, it's okay,” she assured, her face turning luminous. Tears brimmed in her eyes now. “Because that's when I realized.”

“What?”

“That every night I spent with you, every hour, every minute . . . Addie must have been with me. Because the truth is, I've
never
been so trusting. I've never felt so loved, than when I was with you. And you realized that all along, didn't you? See . . .” She took a step toward him, her expression eager, like she was wild to make him understand. He felt like his heart was breaking a little, seeing her
in that moment, bearing witness to her strength and her courage. “With Lynn and with Alan—with my mother and father—I only had those tiny glimpses of what it was like. But with you, I feel it all the time. Addie could trust, so
I
can. Do you see? Despite
everything.
Despite Kehoe, and Cunningham and Stout, despite being ripped away from my family and all of this—” She gestured around the stables. “Despite all the years with Sissy, it's
not
too late,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand on his chest.

He winced in pleasure at her simple touch. “If you don't think it is, I mean,” she added after a moment, studying his face anxiously. “I'm sorry that I hurt you by leaving. I wish I could make you understand, Dylan.”