The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

Sydney and disappearing. Probably eager to get away from Cole before he tacked on another restriction. Like he’d said. Smart kid.

Smirking, Cole waved Sydney inside. “Come on in. What’s going—the hell?”

The air exploded from his lungs as her compact body collided with his. Before he had time to register that Sydney was pressed against him, her full breasts crushed to his chest, hips notched tight, thick thighs tangled with his and her arms wrapped around him like a drowning victim clutching a life raft, a jagged, wet sob ripped through the office.

He stiffened, his arms rising of their own accord to close around Sydney’s shuddering frame, to clutch her close. Try to absorb the tremors that seemed capable of shattering her to pieces. He glanced toward the open door and frowned. Sydney had only been back in his life for a handful of weeks, but he knew she would hate for someone to catch her like this. He didn’t view her tears as a weakness, but she would. He couldn’t allow anyone to see her so vulnerable.

Carefully, he bent his knees, lowered one arm behind her back and slipped the other under her thighs. He straightened, cuddling her against his chest, and crossed the few feet to the door. Easing his foot out, he nudged it closed, waiting for the click of the lock engaging before returning to his desk and sinking into his chair.

The harsh cries didn’t abate, and each wrack of her body had him clutching her tighter, holding her closer. Had him whispering useless, nonsensical words against her temple. Had a hand tunneling deep into her thick, coarse-yet-soft curls, cradling her head to his shoulder. His heart—it ached, throbbed. For her. For the heartbreak that echoed in every sob. He wanted to beg her to tell him who hurt her, confess what was wrong so he could slay it like some inept knight with tarnished armor charging in to battle a dragon.

He didn’t question why that need rode him. Not when this proud, unbreakable woman was...breaking in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, burrowing into his chest as if attempting to crawl inside him. Her nails bit into his shoulders, gripping him hard. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

“Shh.” He pressed his lips to her curls, the hand not buried in her hair skimming up her back to cup the nape of her neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you, baby girl.”

“Selfish,” she rasped, drawing her knees up and releasing his shoulders to tuck her arms to her body, almost curled into a fetal position. “Just like he said. Like she said. I’m so fucking selfish.”

Self-disgust practically dripped from the indictment, saturating her thick voice. Anger on her behalf kindled low in his gut. Using his grasp on her curls, he tipped her head back. Or tried to. She resisted him, but he didn’t let that stop him from contradicting those inflammatory words.

He bent his head over hers. “There’s nothing selfish about you, Sydney,” he murmured hotly, fiercely, his lips moving against her damp forehead. “I don’t know what just happened or who said something so cruel and un-fucking-true to you, but it’s a lie. Let it go, baby girl.”

But she shook her head so hard, her nose bumped against his collarbone. “You don’t know...”

“Then tell me.” He squeezed the back of her neck then slid his palm down her back, stroking it. “Please tell me. Let me...” Take it away. But he didn’t utter that too revealing plea. Instead, he gently rocked her while her cries continued.

Eventually, she quieted, but her hot, moist puffs of breath bathed his throat. So attuned to her, he caught the slight loosening of her rigidly held frame and relaxed his embrace. But he didn’t release her. Not until she was ready. He’d sit here and hold her however long she needed. However long it required until she felt strong enough to face the world again.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, and he winced in sympathy at the rawness of her voice.

“For what, baby girl?”

She exhaled, a tremble quaking through her body. He wrestled the urge to press her for an answer, to demand she let him in. And damn near shook with the effort. But after a long moment, she finally answered. “I didn’t know, Cole. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you stay today. I wouldn’t have... I wouldn’t have forced my presence on you.”

What the hell? “Sydney.” He leaned back in his chair, gripped her chin and gently but firmly moved her head back. Unlike before, he didn’t allow her to deny him. Only when her chocolate eyes met his did he ask, “From the beginning. What are you talking about?”

“I was in the pharmacy,” she began, so softly he lowered his head to catch every word. “I overheard two women talking about you. And about Tonia...and your—your son. I didn’t know how they died. You lost both of them in childbirth. Not an accident. You didn’t get to spend time together as a family. Didn’t get to have him for years. Tonia didn’t get to be a mother. You didn’t get to be a father. You—” She bit down on her lower lip, cutting off the rapid, almost frantic torrent of words. “You would’ve been a wonderful father,” she breathed.

Cole briefly closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the chair. He permitted the swell of regret and sadness to move through him, unimpeded. Then he exhaled, letting it flow from him. This wasn’t about him; it was about her.

“During your last months with Tonia, she was pregnant. Those are your last memories of her. No wonder you could barely look at me. Couldn’t bear to be around me. But I was so caught up in my own shit, that it didn’t even occur to me...” She shook her head, jerking free of his grip. “I’ve brought you pain. Inflicted it over and over again.”

“Sydney, you didn’t know,” he murmured.

“That doesn’t excuse it,” she argued, her tone sharp. Unforgiving.