Trust Fund Fiance - Naima Simone Page 0,48

steps, climb into Ezekiel’s car, buckle up and not break down as he drove away from a house that had been her home all her life.

Like a horror-movie reel, the scene in the informal parlor played out across her mind. Only to rewind when it finished and start again.

Reagan squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands in her lap. But all that did was twist the volume up in her head. She’d known deep down that her father blamed her for her past mistakes, had never forgiven her for them. And his accusations as well as his stony silence confirmed it. But still, oh God, did that hurt. It hurt so badly she longed to curl up in a ball on the passenger’s seat and just disappear.

Be strong.

Never show weakness or emotion.

Be above reproach and avoid the very appearance of impropriety.

Those had been rules, creeds she’d lived by as a Sinclair. And except for when she’d fallen so far from grace at sixteen, she’d striven to live up to that hefty responsibility. But now, after living with so many cracks and fissures because of the pressure placed on her, she just wanted to break. Break into so many pieces until Reagan Sinclair could never be formed again.

Then who would be left? Who would she be?

God, she didn’t know. And how pathetic was that?

“Reagan.” Ezekiel’s voice penetrated the thick, dark morass of her thoughts, and she jerked her head up. He stood in the opening of her car door. A car she hadn’t realized he’d stopped and pulled over, and a door she hadn’t heard him open. “Come on out.”

He extended his hand toward her, his green eyes, so full of concern, roaming over her face. Slowly, she slid her palm over his and allowed him to guide her from the vehicle. Only then did she notice he’d parked on the side of a quiet, deserted road.

She recognized it. Several country roads twisted through Royal, some leading to the ranches that dotted the town and others leading to rolling fields filled with wildflowers. This one lay several miles outside her parents’ gated community. A bend in the road and a thick copse of trees shielded them from anyone who might travel past the end of it. As Ezekiel closed the door behind her, turned her so he rested against the Jaguar and pulled her into his arms, she was thankful for the semi-privacy.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he murmured against her head as he wrapped his arms around her, one big hand tunneling through her hair and pressing her to his chest. “Let it go. No one can see you here. Let it go because I have you.”

The emotional knot inside her chest tightened, as if her body rebelled against the loosening storm inside of her. But in the next moment, the dam splintered, and the torrent spilled out. A terrible, jagged sob wracked her frame, and she buried her face against Ezekiel’s chest as the first flood of tears broke through.

Once she started, she couldn’t stop. How long she wept for that sixteen-year-old girl who’d been abandoned by the boy she’d loved and her family, Reagan couldn’t say. It seemed endless, and yet, seconds. Fists twisted in his shirt, she clung to him, because at this moment, he was her port in a storm that had been brewing for years.

Eventually, she calmed, her harsh cries quieting to silent tears that continued to track down her cheeks. And even they stopped. Ezekiel cupped one of her hands and pressed a handkerchief into it.

“Thank you,” she rasped, the words sore against her raw throat.

He stroked her back as she cleaned up the ravages of her weeping jag.

“I’m here if you want to talk. Or if you don’t want to talk. Your choice, Reagan,” he murmured.

The self-preservation of her family’s demand for secrecy—as well as her own guilt—battled the urge to unload. But God, she was tired. So tired. Yes, she struggled with trusting people, in trusting herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could try to take a little leap of faith and trust him...

“When I was sixteen, I was involved with a boy—well, he was nineteen years old. My parents didn’t approve of him. And in hindsight, I understand why. But back then, I was just so hopelessly in love with him and would’ve done anything for him. And I did. I rebelled against Dad and Mom. I saw him behind their backs, sneaked out at night to see him. He consumed my world