The Last Goodbye (13 page)

The first time they became one. The first moment of intimate connection.

He broke the kiss, using his elbows to take his weight as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes. He framed her face with his hands, tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs as they lay chest to chest, belly to belly, hip to hip.

“Ally.”

Only then did he start to move, setting up a slow, inexorable rhythm, inviting her to join in. And all the while he stared into her eyes.

She got lost in the myriad silvers and grays of his irises, lost in the thrust and withdrawal of his body and the crazy-making friction building between them.

It didn’t take long for need to overwhelm everything else. There was too much fire, too much longing, too much emotion. She started to pant, clawing at Tyler’s back, making inarticulate noises as her climax swept toward her. He lowered his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth, his other hand sliding between their bodies to find the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs.

She tensed as his thumb brushed over her. Her body clenched around him. Then he caressed her again and she came, his name on her lips, her body bowing off the rug.

He murmured encouragement near her ear, riding
out her orgasm, milking the last shudder from her. Then and only then did he give himself over to the moment, his thrusts becoming wilder, more urgent. She urged him on with her hands and her body. He thrust deeply one last time, then he pressed his cheek against hers and his breath came out in a heated rush as he climaxed.

For a brief moment he was deadweight on her as he relaxed against her. Then he stirred and started to roll to one side.

“Not yet. Stay with me,” she said.

He stilled, looking into her face. “I’m not exactly a lightweight.”

She smiled slightly. “I like it.”

His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t try to withdraw. He pressed his cheek to hers again, his weight settling on her. She flattened her palms against his back and smoothed her hands over him, mapping the breadth and strength of his shoulders, tracing the long, lean muscles either side of his spine, curving her fingers over the resilient roundness of his backside. The hair on the backs of his thighs was crisp and soft, the muscles there very firm, while the skin over his hips was as smooth as silk.

He was beautiful, inside and out. Masculine to the bone, with a big, finely hewn body, his outward strength matched only by his tender, generous soul.

She rested her hand in the center of his chest, feeling the thump-thump of his heart and the rush of his blood as his body cooled. She could smell
their mingled sweat and the earthy scent of sex and, beneath that, the sunshine warmth of Tyler’s skin.

“I’m an idiot,” she said very quietly.

He turned his head to look at her. “How so?”

“If I hadn’t been so stupid, we could have done this days ago.”

“Ah.”

She waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

“That’s all you have to say?
Ah?
”

“I’m being diplomatic.”

He was smiling, his eyes warm, his body relaxed and loose.

She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead, glad that, for the moment, the shadows were gone from his eyes. He deserved a little lightness, a little happiness after the darkness of his recent past.

“You know what would make this moment perfect?” she said.

“What?”

“Ice cream.”

He laughed, then slowly the smile faded from his lips. “Ally Bishop. Where have you been all my life?”

She smoothed his hair again, her chest aching with emotions she wasn’t even close to being ready to acknowledge. “Waiting.”

Then she nudged him gently and he rolled to the side.

“Nuts About Chocolate or raspberry ripple or
both?” she asked, her tone deliberately light as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Is that a trick question?”

She smiled and went to find the ice cream.

T
YLER WOKE TO THE SCENT
of vanilla and spice. A warm body curled beside him on the bed, soft and rounded in all the right places.

Ally.

They were spooned together, her back to his front, his arm around her waist. He could feel the regular rise and fall of her breathing, and for long minutes he simply lay there, enjoying the intimacy of close human contact, the comfort of skin on skin.

She’d saved his sanity tonight. He’d been half out of his mind after the fight with his father. The urge to follow his father into his room, to grab him by the throat and force him to acknowledge his own brutality had been almost overwhelming. But Tyler had never used violence to get his own way. So instead he’d found himself on the street, his keys in hand, thoughts of escaping to Melbourne and his home and his life in his mind. He’d made it into the truck, put his seat belt on—but he hadn’t been able to make himself start the engine.

He’d been utterly lost then. He couldn’t go, he couldn’t stay. Somehow, he’d wound up on Ally’s doorstep. From the moment she’d opened the door, her calm, ready acceptance had been like a balm. She’d simply waited and the words had come.

It was the first time he’d told anyone about his child hood. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but she hadn’t reeled in horror or broken down in tears or insisted on calling the police. She’d listened. She’d asked all the right questions. And when he’d lost it, she’d offered him the wordless comfort of her arms.

Humiliating to admit how much he’d needed it. He was a grown man, with a life of his own. All this stuff with his father had happened years ago. The old man should have no power over him anymore.

Yet Tyler hadn’t been able to drive away.

That was the part that got him the most. The tears he could live with. Just. But for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he felt compelled to stay, why, even now, lying in his lover’s bed, a part of him worried that his father was in the house alone when he wasn’t fully recovered from his operation.

Because Tyler was weak? Because his father still had some kind of hold over him? What kind of man took so much crap and still refused to walk away?

The tension had returned in his chest and belly. Ally stirred in her sleep and he realized he’d tightened his grip on her. Gently he eased away from her, rolling onto his back. One hand propped behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, trying to understand himself.

“Roll over and I’ll rub your shoulders.”

He turned his head to find Ally watching him, the
concern in her big brown eyes discernible even in the dim light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I can sleep anytime.” She reached out and smoothed a hand over his chest. “It’s not every day I offer ice cream
and
a free back rub. It’s a pretty good deal.”

He smiled faintly, catching her hand and lifting it to his mouth. He kissed her fingers. “Some other time, thanks.”

He was way too wound up to relax into a massage, his brain churning.

“I know you’re not big on talking, but sometimes it does help.”

“Women always say that.”

“Because it’s true. Crying helps, too, but I know I’ll never get you to concede on that one.”

“No kidding.”

She didn’t say anything more, simply pressed her body alongside his and rested her head on his shoulder. There was nothing demanding or expectant about her silence—she was simply there, available and open. After a long few minutes Tyler took a deep breath.

“I wanted to go tonight. Wanted to get in my truck and drive and leave him to work it out for himself. But I couldn’t. And I don’t know why.”

“Don’t you?” Ally shifted so she could look him in the eye. “Do you want me to tell you?”

When he didn’t say anything, she reached out and
ran a finger along the stubble on his jaw, her touch light. “Because you couldn’t drive off and leave an old, sick man on his own. That’s why.”

He knew it was true, but he didn’t like it. “I should be able to. After everything he’s done. He deserves worse. He deserves to die alone.”

“I’m sure he does. But you’re not like him.” Her eyes were depthless, soft as velvet. “You’re a loving, compassionate man, Tyler Adamson. It’s a miracle, given what he did to you, but you are. You’re a good, good man.”

There was so much warmth and emotion in her gaze. Tyler looked away, uncomfortable. Growing up, being hard had been the only value worth aspiring to, both to withstand his father’s attacks and to prove to himself that he wasn’t a victim. As a grown man, he’d prided himself on needing nothing and nobody and solving his own problems, righting his own wrongs.

“You think being compassionate is a sign of weakness, don’t you?” Ally asked.

He shrugged noncommittally. Ally might not be a trained psychologist, but she was bloody good at putting her finger on the heart of things at times.

She pressed a kiss to his mouth. “It takes great courage and strength of character to be generous when you have every reason to be otherwise. You’re the strongest man I know, Tyler. I wish I was half as strong.”

He traced the delicate arch of one of her eyebrows.
What she was saying was flattering but it went against every lesson of his life. She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm.

“I know there’s nothing I can say to convince you. But I hope you believe me one day.”

Because he didn’t know how to respond, Tyler rolled toward her and slid a hand up her belly toward her breasts. She made a small, pleased sound as he cupped the warm weight of her in his hand.

She had a very sexy body, soft and curvy, full-breasted. Her skin was smooth and clear, her nipples a pale pink, like the blush inside a seashell. He circled them with his thumbs, watching as they hardened to arousal.

“You’re setting a dangerous precedent here, you realize. Twice in one night,” she said.

He smiled. Then he set himself to the task of proving to her exactly how dangerous he could be.

A
LLY WOKE AT EIGHT TO
find the bed empty beside her. She blinked, then a slow smile spread across her face as she remembered last night.

Tyler, making love to her. Insatiable. Intense. Gorgeous.

Then she remembered the catalyst for their encounter and her smile faded. Last night had been…incredible, but it hadn’t changed the world. Bob was still next door, and he still needed care. Tyler’s ordeal was far from over.

The difference, though, was that she knew now, and the days of keeping her distance were over. She would do whatever she could to ease Tyler’s burden. Whatever it took.

A footfall in the hallway drew her head around. Tyler appeared in the doorway with a glass of juice and a plate of toast. She blinked in surprise. She’d assumed he’d gone next door.

“I didn’t know whether you’d prefer jam or peanut butter, so I did a piece with each.” He was wearing nothing except his boxer briefs and she tried not to stare too obviously.

Last night, she’d been too busy ripping his clothes
off to truly appreciate how beautifully he was put together. Now, her gaze ran over his square shoulders, well-defined pectoral muscles, flat belly and narrow hips. His thighs were muscular without being ridiculous, his calves a triumph of proportion. He was easily the sexiest, most masculine man she’d ever been with.

She swallowed a lump of pure lust.

“I like both. But you didn’t have to make me breakfast.”

“I was hungry. It seemed a little rude to pig out solo.” He sat on the bed and passed her the juice.

She straightened and took a big mouthful. “What are your plans for the day?”

His gaze dropped to her breasts for a gratifyingly rapt second before he selected a piece of toast. “I need to check on Dad. And I promised Gabby I would get these designs to her by the end of the day.”

“You can work here, if you’d like. I know you find it hard to concentrate over there.” She took another gulp of juice. “And if you need me to, I’ll sit with your father while you drive to Melbourne this afternoon.”

He gave her a searching look and she knew he’d detected the effort she’d had to make to keep her tone neutral when she’d mentioned his father.

She reached for his hand. “He’s not simply the nice old man next door for me anymore. To be frank, I’d be happy to never see him again. Or to have a chance to give him a piece of my mind. But I know that both
those things put a burden on you. So I’ll keep going next door and doing what I can to help. Whatever you want. But I want you to know I’m doing it for you, not for him.”

She knew that for some people, Bob’s illness and advanced years would be automatic grounds for a get-out-of-jail-free card for past behavior, but not for her. Tyler hadn’t said much about his mother, but she understood that he’d had precious few people on his side in his lifetime. Well, Ally was on his side, and she was fiercely determined that he knew it and that all her comfort and understanding were for him. He deserved to have one champion in his life, one person who put him above anybody and everybody else.

Perhaps if Bob had sought to reconcile with Tyler in some way, she would feel differently. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d attempted to blame Tyler and twist the truth.

She couldn’t see Tyler’s face properly, but the grip on her hand tightened until it was almost painful.

“So do you want to work here today?” she asked again.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, you’re something of a distraction. But I’ll suck it up.”

His gaze fell to her breasts again. “I’m the distraction?”

She loved the heat in his eyes, loved the way he made her feel sexy and beautiful and desirable.

“Looks like it’s going to be a long day,” she said mischievously.

They showered together after they finished break fast, then Tyler went to check on his father. Ally stood at the kitchen window, watching the house next door anxiously after he’d left. She wished there was some way she could take this burden away from him, some way she could protect him from whatever remaining ugliness his father had left in him. But even if she could, Tyler would never allow her to do so.

He climbed the fence an hour later and she went onto the deck to greet him. He had his roll of blue prints under his arm and a grim expression on his face.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine. He’s alive and kicking. On his high horse, too. Told me he wanted an apology.”

Ally blinked. “Wow. That’s some serious denial he’s got going on there.”

The tightness had returned to his posture again.

She grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his and pulled him into the house.

“I’ve set you up in the study.”

He stopped in the doorway when they arrived, surveying the empty desk and the bulletin board she’d cleared behind it.

“I thought you could hang some of your stuff up there so you could reference it easily. And I know the desk isn’t as big as one of those big drawing
boards you probably use, but I figure it’s better than nothing.”

“It’s great, Ally. Perfect. But where are you going to work? I don’t want to displace you.”

“All I need is a chair and a pad and pen most of the time. The desk is pretty much wasted on me.”

He hooked an arm around her neck and drew her close. “Thanks.” He kissed her, his gaze warm and gentle.

“It was my pleasure.”

And it had been. She’d enjoyed doing something for him. Something to make his life easier.

She eased out from under his arm.

“You’ve got work to do. And I need to start thinking about my next column.”

“If you say so.”

She turned for the door, only to start a little when a large hand bussed her on the butt. She gave him a dark look over her shoulder.

“That is so not going to become a habit.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that from the moment I met you.”

She stared at him, arrested. “Really?”

“You want a sworn affidavit? Or some other kind of proof?” He reached for her again.

She dodged out of the way, laughing, relieved to see him smiling again.

“Do some work. Then maybe we can talk about this proof thing.”

They worked in separate rooms until lunchtime.
She made sandwiches for three and went with Tyler when he delivered one to his father. Bob was surly and taciturn and she stood in the doorway and watched as Tyler bit his tongue and didn’t rise to any of his father’s baits.

Amazing how differently a person’s behavior could appear when viewed through a new prism. She’d always been mildly amused by Bob’s gruff abrupt ness, but now all she could hear was the frustrated anger beneath his words. Her blood ran cold as she imagined him raising a hand to two small boys.

Bob caught her staring at him and she held his eye for a long, steady beat. She wasn’t going to pretend that she didn’t know what he was.

He was the first to look away.

She joined Tyler in the study when they returned to Wendy’s house, curling up in the armchair with her latest letter file. It was nearly three when Tyler sat back in his chair, rubbed his neck and announced that he was done. Then he stood and plucked her file from her hands and kissed her, hard. They wound up mostly naked on the study floor, their lovemaking fierce and urgent.

Afterward, Ally watched as he dressed and rolled up his plans.

“I’ll be back later tonight.”

There was an unspoken question in his gaze. He wanted to know if he should come over. If she wanted him to stay the night again.

A wiser woman would say no. Things were already so intense between them.

“I’ll be awake.”

His slow, sweet, sexy smile was her reward. “I’ll bring more ice cream.”

She waved him off from the porch and then went inside. The bed was a rumpled mess so she changed the sheets. Then she sat on the freshly made bed and forced herself to face what she was doing—starting something up with Tyler Adamson, despite her promise to herself to never, ever let anyone down again.

She clenched her hands on her knees, her body tense. She didn’t want to hurt him. Now, more than ever. He deserved happiness. He deserved every good thing life could throw at him.

Then, don’t screw it up.

A great idea, but easier said than done. At least, it was in her experience. But it was too late to play it safe—it wasn’t as though she could turn back time and change things so that she’d remained on the couch last night instead of wrapping Tyler in her arms. And she wouldn’t want to, anyway, even if she could—last night had been one of the most challenging, precious, moving experiences of her life.

She stood and smoothed the quilt.

There was no point mooching around, agonizing over what might happen. After all, she’d been angsting and second-guessing herself since the moment she met Tyler and it hadn’t stopped the inevitable from happening. So maybe the answer was simply to
hand herself over to fate and take things one moment at a time and not get ahead of herself.

It wasn’t exactly a plan, but it was
something.
And it would have to suffice.

A
T SIX O’CLOCK, SHE GIRDED
her loins and went next door. Bob was watching his game shows and he barely grunted when she let herself inside and said hello.

A far cry from his usual bright-eyed greeting. But he wasn’t about to waste his charms on her now that Tyler had so clearly taken her into his confidence.

“Have you had your dinner yet, Bob?” she shouted over the din of the television.

When he didn’t answer her, she stepped in front of the set and repeated her question.

He frowned at her and she could see him trying to work out how much rudeness he could get away with. “There’s nothing to eat.”

Ally knew for a fact that Tyler had prepared a plate of cold chicken and salad for his father’s dinner, leaving it in the fridge. Leaving Bob to his show, she went into the kitchen to check the fridge. Sure enough, the meal was gone. On a hunch, she checked the garbage. The chicken and salad had been scraped, untouched, into the pail.

It was such a childish, spiteful act. Had Bob imagined he was making more work for Tyler? Forcing his son to do double labor in order to feed him? Pun
ishing him in some way, as he’d punished Tyler as a child?

She stood in the doorway of the living room, watching him, trying to decide how to handle the situation.

A tuft of white hair sat up on his scalp, and the shirt he was wearing badly needed ironing. His hands moved restlessly on the arms of the chair and she was reminded of those long minutes she’d spent sitting beside him in the grass the morning he’d collapsed, holding his hand and willing him to live while she waited for the ambulance to come.

She’d felt so deeply for him then, lamented his aloneness so much. But he’d brought it on himself, and now that his son was here, helping him despite their troubled history, Bob still pushed him away and punished him.

Was he so unreachable? So set in his ways and bloody-minded that even now, when his days were numbered, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the past and try to make amends? One word, one look, of acknowledgment would mean so much to Tyler, she knew. It might even give him the closure he was so desperately looking for. It might even set him free.

The thought gave her impetus to move into the room and into Bob’s line of vision.

“Bob. Can you turn the television down for a minute?”

He frowned, but he jabbed at the remote control
and the TV was muted, reduced to a flickering, distracting display in the background.

“I take it you didn’t want the chicken?” she asked.

“It was off. Smelled funny.”

She debated whether to call him on the lie, then decided to let it slide. She sat on the chair nearest to him and looked at him steadily.

“Is this the way you want things to be, Bob? Do you really want to spend your final days at war with your own son?”

“I don’t know what lies he’s been telling you, but he and his brother were always ungrateful little bastards.”

“I believe him, Bob. I believe every word.”

Bob’s lip curled. “Think I don’t know what you two are up to next door? Don’t go thinking that let ting him into your pants is going to get you any where, either. He’s never been good at sticking at anything.”

Ally thought of Tyler’s thriving business and the way he’d put his life on hold to tend to his dying parent. She’d never met a more determined, honor able man in her life.

She stood. “Do you know what the saddest thing is? You have an incredible son. He’s smart and he’s kind and he’s funny. And you will never, ever know him, because you’re too small-minded and angry to see past your own failings. And they are your fail
ings, Bob. Good men do not beat their children. No exceptions, no excuses.”

She left the room before she said something she’d regret. Something irretrievable that would make it impossible for her to help Tyler care for Bob. She made him a sandwich, then she returned to the living room where the television was once again blaring.

She grabbed the small side table from the corner and dragged it until it was beside Bob’s chair, placing the plate on it.

“If you throw this out, you’ll have to make your own dinner or go hungry,” she said.

Bob didn’t acknowledge her. She returned to the kitchen and tidied up. Standing at the sink, her gaze fell on the shed. She turned off the tap and dried her hands and headed for the door.

There was still enough daylight left for her to open the doors and find the light switch on the inside wall. She stepped over a box of old tap fittings and the shaft of a broken trimmer and stopped in front of Tyler’s table.

As he’d reported, Bob had all but destroyed it. The once-smooth wood was hacked and scarred, the delicate inlay shattered in parts, missing in others. There was one small section where the marquetry had escaped unscathed and she ran her fingers over it, feeling the smooth fineness of the work, marveling at the beauty Tyler had created.

She knew next to nothing about cabinetmaking, but she knew he’d spent hours on this table. Days. She
imagined him working on it, young and eager to show his parents what he’d achieved, how far he’d come. Imagined the quiet pride he must have felt when he gave it to his mother.