Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I tensed. “Aye.”
She shook her head slightly, expression somewhat exasperated. “Maybe you should tell her that.”
“Maybe I will,” I retorted without thinking.
Her eyes flared, but I marched out of the room to follow Jock.
Then I stopped, pulse pounding in my ears.
My problem had always been my inability to release myself of the blame I carried for an action that was not mine. Was I really willing to be miserable for the rest of my life because Sloane might look at me differently once she knew?
“I need your trust …”
I hadn’t thought it was about trusting Sloane. But she was right. It was. And I’d done her a disservice by not trusting her.
“Jock.”
My boss turned at the top of the hall and gave me a questioning look.
“Do you need me for this, or can you do without me for a bit?”
Sensing the urgency in my voice, he waved me off. “Go do what you need to do.”
So I did.
Fear and anticipation thrummed through me as I tracked down Sloane’s boss, Mrs. Hutchinson. She seemed bemused when I asked which room Sloane was working on right now, but she gave me the suite number she reckoned she’d be in, and I tried to move through the castle with patience.
Not wanting to draw the members’ attention, I forced my steps to be unhurried as I made my way upward and then down the hallway toward Sloane. Another housekeeper, Frannie, I think Sloane called her, was outside a suite dumping rubbish into their cart.
“Sloane in there?” I asked her abruptly.
The older woman straightened and blinked at me owlishly. “Aye, she is.”
“Can you give us a minute?”
Her brow furrowed. “You the reason she looks ready to burst into tears every five seconds?”
Fuck.
An ache flared like an old wound in my chest. I nodded stiffly.
She considered me. “You don’t say much, do you?”
I scowled.
Frannie chuckled humorlessly. “Fine. On you go. Tell Sloane I’m moving on to the next room.”
She’d barely said the last word and I was slipping into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
“Frannie, you would not believe what I found in the—oh.” Sloane appeared out of the bathroom, her features slack at the sight of me. “What are you doing here?”
Once I was decided on something, I didn’t beat around the bush. “I want to tell you about my past.”
The rubbish bag in her hand fell from her trembling fingers. “Walker?”
“I miss you.” The confession was rough with emotion. “I miss you so fucking much.”
Tears brightened those warm brown eyes. Eyes I could drown in. “I miss you too.”
“Will you sit?” I gestured to an armchair.
Her gaze darted to the door. “What about Frannie?”
“She’s working on your next room while we talk.” I sat down and, seeming unable to take her eyes off me, she watched me the whole time as she backed into the armchair and sunk down as if her legs had given out.
“You were right,” I admitted. “I didn’t know at the time, but I didn’t trust you with the truth. I was blinded by how I feel about the truth. And I …” I scrubbed a hand over my face because I wasn’t used to talking about these things with anyone but Rich. “Fuck, I … There’s a part of me that will never forgive myself, and I thought if I told you and you looked at me … differently … that it would royally fuck me up.”
Sloane leaned in, her beautiful face soft with sympathy. “Look at you differently, how?”
“You … even after I messed up with Andros … you look at me like I can fix everything. I like the way it makes me feel,” I confessed gruffly. “I like that I’m that man for you. That someone as strong as you, as capable, wants me to be the man at her side.”
“Walker,” she breathed, tears brightening her eyes and slipping slowly down her cheeks. “You are. I do. You make me feel like even if bad things happen, they can’t touch me. Not really.”
Jesus. I felt winded by her words.
“Why would you think the truth would change that?”
“Because I failed someone in a way there’s no coming back from.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Tell me.”
There were very few people in the world who knew the truth. Not even Brodan knew. Rich did. Sully too. I licked my suddenly dry lips but held Sloane’s gaze. “I grew up in Portobello, just outside Edinburgh. Right on the water. My dad was an architect, a very well-paid one. We had a nice home, and I had a mum who didn’t have to work and she showered me and my sister with attention.”
“Sister?” she whispered.
The thought of Iona was a pain unlike any. I’d been shot and stabbed and almost drowned and suffocated. Burned and bombed. More than most men had ever experienced.