Kyland (Sign of Love #7) (12 page)

Tenleigh

There was a soft tapping on the door of my trailer. I pulled myself from the deep sleep I'd been in and sat up. It was utterly dark. What the heck?

The tapping came again. I pulled the quilt around my body and said very quietly against the door, "Who is it?"

"Kyland."

My heart flipped. I pulled the door open. Kyland stood there in his coat and hat, his hands shoved in his pockets and a look I couldn't read on his face.

"Hi." I smiled sleepily. "What are you doing here?" I asked, glancing back at the bedroom.

"I, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

I furrowed my brow, pulling the quilt more tightly around myself as the cold air from outside chilled me. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" I asked.

He blinked at me. "Uh, I figured your mama was home. You know, I just wanted to check on you . . . her . . ."

"In the middle of the night? You could have come by earlier today."

Kyland looked up at the dark, starlit sky as if this was the first time he'd realized it was nighttime. He looked back at me, the expression on his face embarrassed and unsure. I tilted my head and studied him standing there under the winter sky, his breath pluming in the cold air.

"Are you lonely, Ky?" I asked softly.

He looked shocked. "What?" He shook his head. "No, I mean, that's not why I'm here. I'm not here for me. I'm here for you."

I tilted my head and licked my bottom lip. His eyes darted to it and he swallowed.

"It's okay to want something for yourself sometimes."

It's okay to want me. I hope you do. God, I hope you do.

He nodded. "I know, I just thought you'd probably be getting your mama settled . . . How is she?"

"She's okay. Better. She got up and helped make dinner tonight. So that was a good sign."

He nodded and we were both silent for a second as he shifted on his feet.

"You should tell me to go, Tenleigh. And say it like you mean it. Tell me to leave because I can't seem to do it on my own."

I blinked at him. "I don't want you to leave."

A loud whoosh of air escaped his throat and he shifted on his feet some more.

"Do you want me to come back to your place?"

His eyes met mine. "Could you? I mean, you can? You could?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah. Hold on." I stepped back inside and quietly closed the door. I quickly wrote a note to Marlo, letting her know I'd gone to Kyland's and that I'd be home in the morning. She'd make an excuse for me to Mama. We didn't talk to Mama about that kind of thing. We just simply never had. It'd be weird to start now.

I was already wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, so I just pulled my boots and jacket on quietly and left the trailer.

The look on Kyland's face when I stepped outside was pure relief. "You sure this is okay?" he asked.

"Yes, it's fine. I
figured
you hadn't gotten your fill of my body yet," I teased. He stopped, looking stricken.

"Tenleigh, no, that's not why I'm here. I'm not here to use you. I just . . . sleeping with you last night was so . . . and I couldn't, and I thought, maybe you couldn't . . ." He laughed a humorless laugh, frowning up at the sky. "I'm really fumbling this. And I woke you up in the middle of the night—"

"It's okay. I liked sleeping with you, too. Just the sleeping part." I smiled. "I mean, I especially liked the other parts, but the sleeping part was good, too. So can we get to that? It's late. If you've done enough tortured brooding, I mean."

He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck and then chuckling softly. "I don't brood."

I snorted. "Oh, you brood. You could give lessons on brooding. You might very well be the foremost expert on brooding." I was almost surprised at my ability to joke and make light, but I was so genuinely happy to see him. And I was so happy he'd wanted to see me, too.

He chuckled again, and clasped my hand as we walked. The mood seemed lighter.

Five minutes later, we were walking in his front door.

We didn't talk as we walked to his bed. I took off my boots and jacket and then stripped down to my underwear. We'd only been together one time, we'd only touched each other intimately one night, but somehow I already felt comfortable in front of him.

He stripped down to his own underwear and got in under the covers next to me. He pulled my back into his chest and buried his nose in my hair. The exhale that came from him sounded like he'd been storing it up for hours and hours. I pulled his arms around me and held him as he held me.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and raspy. Something in his tone sounded almost . . .
desperate
. I turned in his arms, concerned.

He looked at me in the dim light of the room, his eyes filled with some kind of pain I didn't know how to identify. I frowned and put my hand on his cheek.

"Kyland—" I started.

But he shook his head, cutting me off. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry for what?" I whispered.

"Sorry for not being able to stay away from you. Sorry for not being able to stop thinking about you. Sorry for starting to walk over to your trailer every five minutes since I woke up and you were gone. Sorry for being so damn selfish."

My heart soared even as it dropped. "You're not being selfish. I missed you today, too. It's okay. I'm not asking you for anything more than you can give. I'm not."

"I'm sorry for that most of all."

"What?
That
what?"

He shook his head slowly again. "That I have nothing to give you. That I can only take from you. And that's wrong."

"It's not wrong if I'm offering it."

"Yes it is. It's still wrong."

I studied the angles of his face in the near-darkness and ran my finger over his cheekbone, down his jaw, and over those full, beautiful lips.

"Well. I'm sorry to render your moral dilemma null and void, but I'm only in this for your body, Kyland Barrett. So you can let yourself off the hook."

He laughed, pulling me into him. I inhaled the scent of his skin, masculine and clean.

After a minute, I asked, "Were you having a bad dream again? Is that why you couldn't sleep?"

He paused and I wondered if he'd answer me, and so when his deep voice filled the silence, I stilled completely. "The dreams aren't the hard part. It's not talking about my family that's been the hardest. And I guess I didn't even realize it until last night." He let out a shuddery sounding breath. "It was the first time I've talked about my mama, dad, and brother aloud since I lost them."

I tilted my head back and stroked his cheek again. "That must have been so hard. I'm so sorry you've been holding all that pain inside."

He nodded. "I've spent so many lonely nights here in this bed and last night, having you here felt so damn good." He made a sound in the back of his throat. "This, you here. It feels so good."

"I know. It feels good to me, too," I whispered.

We lay there forehead to forehead, breath to breath, and toes to toes for a few minutes, until I finally got up the nerve to ask, "Will you tell me about your brother? I saw him around town now and again, but I never met him."

He released a breath. "He was . . ." he seemed to take a few seconds to consider, "full of life. He was a smartass and a practical joker." His lips moved into a smile in the darkened room. "He was always laughing. I can still hear his laugh if I close my eyes. He laughed with his whole body, you know? Like he doubled over and stumbled and it was just . . ." He laughed a small laugh and I smiled. "He could be such a goofball. The other day when we were sledding, I swore I heard his laughter echoing through the mountains when I was coasting down that hill. I swore I did."

My heart squeezed so tightly that I gasped out a small breath. And then we were both silent for a minute. I allowed him to gather his thoughts.

"He was five years older than me, but we did everything together. We ran through these mountains, pretended we were part of a band of wild Indians." He smiled again, but then his face sobered and he was quiet for a second. "We were always afraid of the dark when we were kids. Silas, he always begged our mama to keep the hall light on." He paused again. "He died in the pitch darkness underground, Tenleigh." He choked out my name. "The power went out after the cave-in and they were all under there in blackness. And I can't help . . . I can't help but think he was afraid. He was probably so scared. I hear him over and over in my mind whispering to me like he did from his bed when we were kids, 'Get up and turn on the light, Ky.' And there's nothing I can do for him. Nothing at all."

I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that threatened. "They were together, though, your dad and your brother. All those men. I bet they helped each other cope. All the ones I knew, they were such good men. I bet they were all there for each other in the end."

"Yeah," he said softly.

We lay there in silence for a few minutes until Kyland leaned forward and kissed me slowly and deeply and there was something different in his kiss, but I didn't know exactly what.

He pulled his lips away, but moved his body closer to mine. "You drive me crazy," he murmured. He brushed his lips across mine lightly and I shivered. "And you make the darkness go away. You bring me some kind of peace." He let out a harsh exhale of breath and I drank it in. "I don't know what to do with it."

"Take it, Ky," I whispered. "You
deserve
some peace. Let me give it to you."

"And what do I give to you, sweet Tenleigh?" he whispered, sounding broken. "What can I possibly give to you?"

I thought about it for a second. "You help me believe."

"In what?"

"In goodness, in strength."

In the fact that there are good men out there who are honorable.

He smoothed a piece of hair back out of my face.

"Plus, your ass. You have a really great ass," I said.

He laughed and then sobered quickly. "I know."

I punched him lightly on his shoulder and he grinned, crossing his eyes.

I laughed. "You're touched," I said, using a word mountain folk use to mean "crazy."

Still grinning, he nuzzled his nose into my neck. "Hmm. I like how your inner hick comes out when you're annoyed."

I laughed, not feeling annoyed at all. "Did you know that mountain dialect can be traced back to Elizabethan English?"

"No, I didn't know that," he said, running his nose along my jaw. I smiled.

"Hmm hmm. Appalachia and other places have held onto it because there are so many areas that are so remote—cut off from the rest of society in a lot of ways . . . like how we add a "t" to the end of words like twice and across."

"Ah. So when I go to New York and say, 'Pull up a cheer and set a spell. You look a mite peaked,' they'll think I'm speaking the King's English?"

I laughed. "No, they'll think you need a translator, but you do sound sexy when you talk all hillbilly-like."

He made a humming sound and nipped at my jaw. "You like that, huh? Good to know. Because later," he trailed his lips down my neck, "I reckon I'll go down yonder."

I laughed again and pushed him away, as he laughed, too. As our laughter faded, Kyland pushed my hair back out of my face tenderly, his gaze filled with something I wasn't sure how to read, his lips still turned up in a small smile. My eyes moved over his beautiful face, trying to discern what he was feeling.

After a moment, he leaned forward and kissed me lightly. "What are your dreams? Tell me," he whispered.

To fall in love with someone who stays. To stop wishing so hard it could be you.

"Hmm. To see the ocean. To dance in the surf. To go to dinner at a restaurant. To have more than one pair of shoes. To get one of those store-bought birthday cakes with the perfect pink roses in the corners. To get my mama a good doctor who knows how to heal her. To be a teacher—to inspire kids to love books as much as I do. To live in a house with a yard and a garden and my very own bed."

He was quiet for a second. Finally, he said very quietly, "You should have all those things and more."

"What are your dreams, Kyland? Other than leaving here . . . what things do you hope for?"

He was silent for several beats. "I want to be an engineer. I want to have a refrigerator that's always stocked with food. I want to do something that matters—that really, truly makes a difference. And I want to recognize that thing when it shows up."

I smiled, grateful he had shared that part of his heart with me. "I bet you'll do all those things, and even more," I said, feeling just a tinge of sadness. I wanted him to achieve his dreams, but I wondered if, when he did, I would only be a small memory in his head.

He wove his fingers into my hair and put his mouth on mine again and I melted into his kiss.

We found release in each other's bodies like we'd done the night before and then we slept, wrapped around each other—the loneliness and the cold left outside the warm cocoon of our blankets.