“Exactly.”
The door closed behind them, and Hope visibly slumped. “That was something else.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t have the words he needed. Any of them. He didn’t know what to say to fix this thing that had been broken between them for half their lives. He didn’t know if he could fix it.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”
He’d been so busy brooding, he’d missed both those important things. Hard to convince her to stay so I can take care of her when I’m doing such a stand-up job. “Let’s get you home, then.” A strange look passed over her face, and he paused. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just funny how things work out, you know?” She accepted his offered hand and let him pull her to her feet.
He knew what she meant, but he still said, “Certain things are meant to be.”
Hope shot him a look. “Fate, Daniel? Really?”
“No.” Fate was too broad a term, and it took away personal responsibility. He didn’t believe in fate. There was no way that something like John’s death and Hope’s mangled leg would be preordained. That was human error of the most unforgivable nature at work. He kept hold of her hand as they walked out of the diner. “But you and me, darling? It doesn’t matter if it’s a day or a decade—we’re going to find our way back to each other again and again until we get it right.”
“I don’t know if that’s depressing or reassuring.”
“Both.” For all appearances, she’d moved on before that night when they’d lost control and put themselves on their current path. She had a life, and it was on hold until they determined if this was a second chance or just another opportunity to fall apart. Which made it doubly important that they figure out their shit once and for all this time around.
He held the door open for her, that thought circling round and round in his head as he got in the driver’s seat and headed for home. He knew damn well that things weren’t perfectly fine between them. There was too much unsaid, too much that had to remain unsaid because they didn’t see eye to eye on it. He wasn’t willing to fight with her over his guilt, or the fact that he’d fucked up beyond belief thirteen years ago.
So how to prove that he was truly willing to go the distance now when he’d dropped the ball so spectacularly before?
Daniel tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t know, but he was going to have to figure it out fast. Neither of them said anything until he pulled up in front of his house and shut off the engine. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Don’t be. I’m not going to pretend I’m not upset by how they took the news, but I’m hoping they’ll come around. They have eight months to figure it out.” She didn’t sound any more hopeful than he was about it.
He got out and moved around to open her door, well aware that she sat there and let him. They were both trying so fucking hard, it was almost painful. Once upon a time, being with her had been the most natural thing in the world. He wanted to get back to that point. Tonight. Now.
Daniel maintained his hold on her hand as they crossed to the front door and walked into the house. He had to let go long enough to refill Ollie’s water and food, but Hope waited in the doorway. It was almost like they both knew that this could be the turning point that either made or broke them, and neither was willing to do or say something that would fuck it up.
He knew who was most likely to be the one to push them over the edge.
Finished, he stood and took her hands. “I’m going to make love to you now.”
She opened her mouth, seemed to reconsider, and shut it. Instead of saying anything, she leaned forward and delivered the single sweetest kiss of his life, one filled to the brim with innocence that he’d thought long gone and buried for both of them. There were so many fragile possibilities there that he fought to maintain the gentleness she’d used to set the tone.
It didn’t use to be a fight. He’d always touched Hope like she was the most priceless thing in his life—because she had been.
She still was.
And, suddenly, it was the most natural thing in the world to cup her face and smooth his thumbs up over her jaw and across her cheekbones. He picked her up, sweeping her into his arms in a way that made her laugh. “No laughing. This is serious business.”
Her dark eyes sparkled. “Serious business, huh?”
“Fuck, no, darling. Keep laughing. I’m addicted to the sound.” He laid her on his bed and propped himself up next to her, immediately returning to the soft touches he’d started with. They’d had sex recently, but it had been rough and frenetic. That wasn’t what tonight was about.
Tonight was about finally putting both feet forward into the future.
He slowly undid her dress, pressing a kiss to the skin exposed by each button. Her breathing was already ragged, but he was nowhere near finished. He was going to properly reacquaint himself with her body—and drive her crazy while he did it. Daniel reached the last button and smoothed his hands down over the fabric covering her hips and thighs, knowing damn well that she’d picked an outfit that was designed to play down her scars so she didn’t make anyone uncomfortable.
Well, fuck that.
He urged her up so he could finish getting off the dress and then palmed first one breast and then the other. “You’re beautiful.”
“You’ve always said that. Even when I was a gangly teenager.”
He pinched her nipple lightly, relishing her harshly indrawn breath. “It was true then. It’s even truer now.” He peppered her breasts with light kisses designed to torment and moved down her body, licking along the edge of her panties. “The first time I realized you weren’t a kid anymore was that summer when you were thirteen.”
“The pool party at Quinn’s.” The words came out breathy, making him grin.
“The very one. You wore that blue bikini, and I felt like a dirty old man because my cock wouldn’t calm the fuck down.”
Hope laughed. “You were sixteen. A stiff wind made it impossible for your cock to calm down.”
He liked this, revisiting the good memories. Daniel worked her panties down her hips, stopping when they hit the tops of
her thighs and she tensed. To distract her, he kept talking. “I knew John would kick my ass, so I stayed the hell away from you.”
“And ended up making out with Christie Jenkins, if I remember correctly.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Yeah, well, you had a point about my being sixteen.” He kissed the sensitive skin below her belly button. “You want to know something?”
“Sure.”
“That day had nothing on when I saw you at my birthday party seven weeks ago.” He licked her hip bone until she squirmed. “All I wanted was to haul your ass out to my truck and bury my cock inside you.”
“Didn’t even make it to your truck.”
He inched her panties down farther, kissing the point where thigh met hip. “Nope. And my cock hasn’t calmed down since, either.”
Her laugh cut off when he finished pulling her panties off, leaving her naked. He feathered his fingers across the top of the scar, forcing himself to really look at it for the first time since she’d walked back into his life. When his car rolled, the passenger door had caved in, impaling her leg with pieces of metal. It caused the scar to be jagged, an ever-present reminder of the trauma she’d gone through.
More importantly, the trauma she’d survived.
“Danny—”
“Do you trust me?”
She propped herself on her elbows, looking down her body at him. “You don’t have to be at peace with my scars to have sex with me.”
No, he didn’t. But he’d been fucking up when it came to this injury since she walked back into his life, and he was done. Hope had hurt herself to spare him a situation where she thought he might be uncomfortable, and the thought of her doing it again… Over his fucking dead body.
But if he pushed too hard, she’d get up and walk to the bedroom she’d claimed as hers and shut the door on him and his attempt to truly start new with her.