Point of No Return (11 page)

She sounded panicked, and I wanted to tell her that I was okay, but couldn’t summon the energy to speak.

Alisha dropped onto the bed beside me. “Kathleen, we’ve been searching all over for you. God, I was so worried—” She was fighting tears now.

A man’s torso suddenly appeared in my vision, then Alisha moved and he took her spot on the bed.

Blane.

The moment I saw him, tears started leaking from my eyes.

“He’s gone,” I whispered. “He left me. He left the baby. He just
. . .
left us.”

The look on Blane’s face was stark, then he pulled me close to his chest. “I know,” he said softly, his lips moving against my hair. “But I’ve got you.” He stood, lifting me in his arms. My head was buried against his neck, my tears wetting his skin, as I fisted a handful of his suit coat and held on.

“How did you find me?” I asked later. Blane had taken me to his house and placed me in his bed. I hadn’t protested.

“I stopped by Alisha’s after I left,” Blane said, “asked her to check on you in the morning, but you weren’t there. When you hadn’t come back by the afternoon and didn’t answer your cell, she finally called me.”

My face heated in embarrassment, and I looked away from Blane’s steady gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean for anyone to worry.”

“It’s my fault,” Blane replied, taking my hand in his. “You were in shock and I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I swallowed hard, tears swimming in my eyes when I looked back at him. “I hate feeling weak,” I whispered.

Pain flashed across his face, then he was moving to lie down beside me and gathering me in his arms.

“You are
not
weak,” he said fiercely. “Don’t ever think that.”

Blane’s fingers combed lightly through my hair as he cradled me close. I breathed in the warm, familiar scent of him, easing into the strength of his body. I could hide away here, in the circle of his arms, and the pain was a little easier to take.

“Thank you.” My words were a small breath of sound, but I knew Blane heard them.

“I don’t need to be thanked,” he said softly.

I gripped him tighter, my throat closing. We stayed that way for a long time, until I drifted to sleep.

It was the middle of the night when I woke again. Mechanically, I rose and went into the bathroom. My mind started spinning and I had to force myself not to think. I didn’t want to think. If I did, I would feel, and I couldn’t handle the pain. Not yet.

I stepped into the shower, standing under the hot spray of water, and let it wash over me. I scrubbed, rinsing my hair until the strands squeaked. Drying off, I found a toothbrush and brushed my teeth, then wrapped myself in Blane’s rarely used robe that hung on the back of the door.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I could see Blane was sitting on the side of the bed. He’d changed into pajama pants, his shirt discarded. The soft glow of the bathroom light illuminated him when he glanced up at me. He stood as I approached.

“Feel better?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You didn’t brush your hair,” he said.

I shrugged again, not caring about my tangled hair.

Blane moved past me into the bathroom, returning in a moment with a brush in his hand.

“Sit down,” he said.

I climbed into the bed, sitting cross-legged while he knelt behind me. In a moment, I felt the bristles gently pull through my wet hair.

It was a scene oddly reminiscent of that night so many months ago, when Blane had brushed my hair while we sat in my bed. He was just as gentle now as he had been then, easing through the tangles he encountered.

The huge gaping hole inside my chest didn’t seem like it was going to consume me, not with Blane there.

When he was finished, he set the brush aside and helped me under the covers, tucking them around my body, then he turned away.

I caught at his hand. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll sleep in the other room,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze.

Disappointment flooded me, but I understood. What, was I going to ask him to sleep in his own bed with me when I’d rejected him for his brother? Was I that selfish?

I bit my lip to keep from saying anything and just nodded, lowering my hand.

Blane seemed to hesitate. “Did you want me to stay?”

Our eyes met. “Only if you want to,” I said.

He gave a small nod, then went and switched off the bathroom light, plunging the room back into darkness. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but Blane didn’t seem to have a problem navigating his way back to the bed. He pulled back the covers and the bed dipped from his weight.

Blane’s arm rested in the curve of my waist, drawing me back against him spoon fashion. I felt small next to his bulk, and my body relaxed.

When I woke again, the sun was up and Blane was no longer in bed with me.

I sat up, hearing the sound of his razor coming from the bathroom. The robe I’d been wearing was all askew and I rearranged it.

The heavy weight pressing on my chest wasn’t any lighter, but at least I felt I could stand again. Even if it was inch by inch, I had to keep going. Having another breakdown wasn’t an option. Even now, my face burned with embarrassment at what I’d put Alisha and Blane through. I needed to call her later, to apologize and thank her.

The razor stopped and I heard the sound of water running. After a moment, Blane stepped out of the bathroom. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing just a pair of gym shorts. I thought he must have worked out earlier, when I’d been sleeping.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“A little after ten,” he answered, walking over to me. “You need to eat something.”

“I know.” I looked up at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“The police finally released Kandi’s body. The funeral is today,” he said.

My eyes widened. “Are you going?”

He nodded.

“Alone?”

“Mona and Gerard will be there,” he said, heading to his closet.

I hesitated. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Blane paused from sorting through his dress shirts. “You would?”

“Of course,” I said. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not an intrusion,” Blane cut me off.

“Then I’ll go get ready.” I climbed out of the bed, trying to ignore the way Blane’s gaze dropped to the length of thigh I’d unwittingly exposed.

An hour later, I’d forced down a bagel that Mona had brought me—my stomach was still not feeling normal and I didn’t know if the nausea was from the pregnancy, Kade leaving me, or a combination of the two. I’d pulled on a black sleeveless dress and black heels, pinning my hair up into a French twist.

Checking myself over in the mirror, I frowned at the drawn, pinched look to my face. The shadows under my puffy eyes were immune to makeup. An oversized pair of black sunglasses would help that, though.

My gaze caught on the gold heart-shaped locket that hung between my breasts. Kade had given it to me at Christmas. I’d said that the reason I’d hardly taken it off since was because it held a photo of my parents, but I was through lying to myself.

I kept it on because Kade had given it to me.

Lifting my hands to the catch, I hesitated, then lowered my arms. I couldn’t take it off. I knew I should, but not yet. I wasn’t ready.

My stomach knotted and I thought the bagel was going to make a reappearance. I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself as a wave of anguish rolled over me.

Kade was gone, and this time he wasn’t coming back.

That black hole threatened to engulf me and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was pregnant, with the baby of a man who’d lied to me, then walked out on me.

What was I going to do? I was a bartender with no money, no family. School was out of the question now—no way could I afford an education
and
a baby. Who would take care of it while I worked? I could barely feed myself, so how was I supposed to feed a baby?

I couldn’t breathe, the air choking in my lungs. Black spots danced in front of my eyes as I clutched the bedpost.

“It’s okay. Kat, it’s okay. Just breathe. Look at me.”

Blane’s hand under my chin forced my head up until I met his green gaze.

“Breathe, okay? Look at me. Breathe.” Blane gently pried my hand from its vise grip on the bedpost, moving it to his shoulder. “Hold on to me, okay?”

My hand fisted the black suit coat he wore, and I focused with difficulty on the rhythm of his breathing, forcing myself to echo it. Gradually, the spots cleared, the weight against my chest easing.

Blane’s face was grim, his mouth set in a tight line. “You need to lie down,” he said.

“No, I’m fine,” I protested, resisting his tug on me. “We’ve got to go, right? Can’t be late.”

His brows furrowed. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to come.”

“I’m fine,” I said again, my voice stronger this time. “I just
. . .
had a moment, that’s all. It’s been a rough few days. Let’s just go.”

I grabbed my purse off the bureau and headed for the door, feeling Blane’s eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything more and followed me.

It was sunny outside and I dug my sunglasses from my purse. Blane held the door of the Jaguar for me and I slipped inside. A moment later, we were heading north on Meridian.

“You want to tell me what the panic attack was for?” Blane asked.

I glanced at him. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the hard set of his jaw raised a red flag.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just a little
. . .
overwhelming.”

“I’m not mad,” Blane clarified. “But if you’re panicking because you think you’re alone, you’re not. You have me.”

I shook my head, turning to stare out the window. “I’m not going to do that to you, Blane,” I said. “You deserve better. I’ll be fine on my own. I just need a plan, that’s all.”

Blane pulled into the cemetery, finding a place to park among the cars already there. Once he had, he turned to face me.

“I don’t want you on your own. I want you with me.”

Stunned, I didn’t have an opportunity to reply before he was out of the car, rounding to my side and pulling open my door.