Sheltering His Desire (15 page)

She clenched her jaw, and her entire frame
shook. Her eyes grew watery, and she sniffled. “You need to
leave.”

He couldn’t. If he walked out now, this would
never be better. But his own thoughts didn’t make sense to him. He
was contradicting himself, and he didn’t have a response.

“Please. Leave. Have a different project
manager contact me.”

She was right, so why did he want to argue?
He should be grateful she finally got it. This was the best
solution for her, and staying was just him being selfish.

****

Alyssia dropped her face in her hands after
Tate walked out the door. She wanted to be pissed at him for just
going along with what she’d said—because it was best for her. She
wanted to be furious at him for making her think about it in the
first place. Most of all, she wanted to get rid of the feeling it
would have been smarter of her to hack off her own arm with a
butter knife than to pick that fight.

But blame had bounced back and forth in her
head all night. Since the news story aired. It was her fault for
not listening to Tate. It was his fault for always trying to do
what was best for her. It was Jared’s fault for treating her like a
baby for so long.

Everyone was to blame, the world sucked, and
she didn’t even know if happily ever after really existed. She
hated Tate most of all for putting that thought in her head.

If she was going to insist on doing this on
her own, she’d better get started. At least it would give her a
distraction. Tate’s idea hadn’t worked—a glance at her
crowd-funding site told her she wasn’t even five percent to her
goal. Her idea hadn’t worked—the news story that night was proof
she couldn’t compete with the Thompson’s connections, and he’d put
her entire shelter at risk because of it. Or she had. It was time
she started taking credit for her own fuck ups.

It was time to explore other options. She
should have done this months ago, but it was too easy to let Tate
step in. Too easy to convince herself that even though she wouldn’t
take his money, she was being self-sufficient by letting him do the
work. She’d find an investor group, or wherever money came from
when banks didn’t loan it. Where to start?

Search engines were her best friend, and it
was time to dig her heels in and either fund her shelter, or make
sure she had contacts in other places to send the pets she wouldn’t
be able to take in if she couldn’t expand.

Armed with a plan, she banished thoughts of
Tate to the back of her mind. Just thinking his name hurt in every
inch of her body, but that would lessen with time.

She didn’t have a choice. She’d get over
him.

Tate wasn’t sure how long he’d been driving.
Long enough to get him all but lost in the back roads of Northern
Georgia, and then turned around and heading back toward the city
again.

He couldn’t get the argument with Lys out of
his head. Every time he managed to present himself with a logical
reason to move on, his brain dragged him back to the fact he wasn’t
listening to himself. He didn’t want to see her with another guy.
That’s what it came down to at every mental intersection. Thinking
of her spending the rest of forever with some random guy—even if he
was the nicest dude on the planet, made Tate clench his hands until
it ached all the way into his fingertips.

Tate had always told himself he wasn’t
equipped to handle a relationship. That sat at the other end of his
dilemma. His parents’ marriage was a painful thing to behold. Two
people bound by law for business purposes, who had only ever slept
in the same bed long enough to conceive him.

So why couldn’t he picture his future without
Alyssia? The idea of growing old alone, of drifting away from her,
of watching her fall for someone else, crushed him from the inside
out.

That was what it came down to. He wanted her
in his life. Needed her. Couldn’t do this future thing without her.
And he had to tell her.

He turned the car back toward her shelter. At
least it was late, so traffic was light. Half an hour later, he
pulled into the parking lot. Most of the picketers had called it a
night. That was something, at least. He strode through the front
door, flashed Sara a smile, and headed straight for Lys’s office.
He knocked, and waited.

Several seconds passed. He glanced back at
Sara.

“She’s in there.” Sara shrugged. “Not on the
phone. At least not the office lines.”

Tate frowned, and knocked again.

“Hang on.” Alyssia’s voice sounded tiny and
raw. Several more seconds passed. “It’s open.”

Tate nudged into her office, ill-ease growing
inside. His concern spiked when he saw her in her desk chair, knees
pulled to her chest, and face pale and drawn. He closed the door
behind him. In just a few steps, he was next to her. “What’s
wrong?”

She shook her head, and her chin quivered.
She opened her mouth to speak, and a sob tore out instead. Her jaw
worked up and down, but nothing intelligible came out.

What the fuck? He didn’t know what was going
on, but it was splitting him in two. He held out a hand, and she
stumbled forward and collapsed in his arms. Ear-piercing cries
echoed through him, gnawing at his calm, flooding him with concern,
and a desire to make this vanish, even though he didn’t have a
target. He rubbed her back until the sobs slowed to body-wracking,
and then tiny sniffles. Her muffled whispers drifted to his ears,
and he strained to hear her.

“I didn’t know,” she muttered. “God, what’s
wrong with people? I didn’t…” She choked on the words.

It didn’t matter what he’d come there to tell
her. This was more important. “Talk to me, Lys.”

She shook her head, and pressed closer into
his chest. “You can’t fix this. Jesus, no one can fix this. What
the fuck is wrong with people?” She finally met his gaze with
red-rimmed, puffy eyes. “I just wanted… I was trying to figure out
what to do if the crowd funding fell through. I stumbled on a site
with an article about the shelter, going on about all of the lies
Thompson’s told. Spewing them like they were truth. And the
comments. The things people said about me, about this place…” She
swallowed, and nodded at her computer.

He kept her turned away, jarred the mouse,
and pulled up her web browser. It took him a moment to register
what he was looking at, and when he did his lunch threatened to
repeat on him. Videos were embedded in several of the comments. Of
animals being tortured. Holy fuck. He closed everything, and
slammed the lid shut on her laptop. No wonder she was a wreck. He
led her toward the couch, and lowered them both, never letting go.
He couldn’t find the words to ask anything new. Everything stuck in
his throat on a surge of sickness.

She curled up against him. “I know people are
saying bad things about the place, but I didn’t realize how
malicious it had gotten.” She shuddered. “I didn’t expect to find…
God, what’s wrong with people, Tate? I couldn’t stop looking, and
oh fuck.”

He couldn’t tell her it was going to be okay.
Of all the lies he could come up with, that felt like the most
insulting. All he could manage was, “I don’t know what’s wrong with
people.”

He trailed his fingers through her hair,
desperately searching for his own calm and not willing to let her
go. He’d stay with her all night if that was what it took. It still
wouldn’t give him a solution, but at least they’d both have
something to hold onto.

****

Alyssia’s eyes felt like they’d been bathed
in sand, and her throat wasn’t doing much better. She couldn’t
think about what she’d seen. She’d known there were sick fucks out
there, but having to see it firsthand… No, she wouldn’t go down
that path. Digging deep, she summoned the willpower to shove the
mental images aside. She sat up enough to look at Tate. “I’m
sorry.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

She disagreed, but didn’t have the strength
to say so. “Why did you come back?”

He hesitated for the briefest second. “I had
a hunch.” He wasn’t telling her everything. She didn’t care. Right
now, she was just relieved he was there. “Will you be okay for a
minute or two?”

She didn’t know if she’d ever be okay again,
but it wasn’t like she could curl up in a permanent ball because
she’d seen proof of how ugly the world was. “Yes.”

When he returned a few minutes later, he
handed her a cup of water, and a damp washcloth. She let the cold
liquid slide down her throat, trying to only focus on the physical
sensations, then used the towel to sap some of the heat from her
cheeks.

He set everything aside. She didn’t like the
pity on his face. Or maybe that was just concern, and she was
overreacting. Panic surged inside again, and she squashed the
visuals it threatened to bring with it.

He grasped her fingers, and tugged her to her
feet. “Come with me.”

She didn’t have any strength to protest, or
even ask where they were going. She couldn’t meet Sara’s curious
gaze when Tate led her into the lobby. He reached over the front
desk and grabbed something she couldn’t see, then tugged her toward
the kennels.

Most of the dogs were sleeping, but a few
stirred when he let them into back room. One animal barked, and
seconds later the rest joined the chaos. Her soul shrank from the
sound. She wouldn’t react. She loved that sound. It wasn’t a bad
sound. She squeezed Tate’s hand tighter, and followed closely
behind.

They stopped in front of Grim’s pen. The dog
had recovered wonderfully in the week since they’d taken him in. He
still couldn’t do a lot of moving, but he was happy and playful as
much as was possible.

Tate unlocked the pen, knelt in front of
Grim, and gestured for her to do the same. He lifted her chin until
he was looking her in the eyes. Even amid the barking of a dozen or
so dogs, his voice was distinct, and kind. “You can’t protect the
world, Lys.” He licked his lips. “Not any more than I can lock you
away from everything bad. But what you do matters so much.” He held
out his hand. Grim sniffed his fingers, then ducked his head. Tate
scratched him behind the ears, and under the chin, affection
rolling with the loll of the dog’s head.

Images from the videos spilled back into
Alyssia’s head, and she gasped for breath. Grim whimpered and
withdrew. Tate gave her all his attention. “Don’t think about it.
Look at me.” His voice never rose. Never wavered. “This is here,
and it’s just us and the dogs, which you’re keeping safe.”

“But, the things I saw—”

Tate brushed his lips over hers. It wasn’t
hungry, or demanding, just soothing. “And the animals you’ve
already saved. Like Grim,” he said. “He’s not going anywhere until
his doctor says it’s okay, and even then, only with someone you
sign off on. Right?”

She nodded, and forced herself to draw a deep
breath.

Tate scooted closer to Grim, and let the dog
rest its head on his leg. Fur and bits of kibble dotted Tate’s
slacks. If he noticed, he didn’t care. He never let go of her
hands, even while he scratched the dog’s ears and patted its
sides.

As they sat there, the din around them died,
and one by one the dogs drifted off to sleep again. Watching Tate
with Grim, warmth leaked back into her fractured thoughts, sealing
some of the cracks. She really was falling for him.

The words jarred her thoughts as they formed
and solidified. It was a relief to finally let herself admit it.
She’d focused on a crush for so long, she’d ignored the actual man
behind her infatuation. The realization ached and soothed her at
the same time.

“Come on.” She stood, and pulled on Tate’s
hand. “Let the dogs sleep.”

He locked Grim’s door, followed her into the
lobby, and set the keys on the front desk.

“Everything all right?” Sara looked between
them, gaze lingering on the grime on Tate’s suit.

Alyssia’s jaw clenched, and a response died
in her throat.

“Just playing with some of the dogs.” Tate
flashed her a smile. Did she see the tight lines around his eyes?
Or was Alyssia the only person who noticed that?

“Come on.” Alyssia found her voice. “I have
some scrubs you can change into. You’re kind of a mess.” Not only
was he covered with Grim’s fur, splotches of drool decorated his
shirt.

Tate looked down, and his eyes widened.
“Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You know where I’ll be,” she said to
Sara.

Back in her office, she grabbed a set of
scrubs from a cupboard, and handed them to Tate. “You probably
should change. I hope you didn’t ruin your clothes.” The normal
conversation helped calm her further, and keep her in the now.

“They’re pants. They’re replaceable.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask. But, do you have
anywhere to be tonight?”

He shook his head, and stroked his thumb over
the back of her knuckles. “Just here.”

****

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Alyssia’s irritated voice dragged Tate from
sleep. He winced at the kink in his neck, and sat up. It took him a
minute to focus his eyes. She stood in front of her computer, face
contorted with fury. She wasn’t back on one of those horrific sites
again, was she? Tate’s chest squeezed with concern.

She pointed to her screen. “What the hell is
this?”

No, probably not. He climbed to his feet, to
get a look at what had her so angry. It was a generic landing page
from the crowd-funding site. Pretty, friendly—creative had spent
weeks on the graphic. The one that said “Sorry, this campaign isn’t
running right now. Can we help you find something else?”

His own ire spiked. Someone had shut her down
without his okay. “Son of a bitch.”

She drummed her fingers on the back of her
chair. “What’s going on?”