The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,36

spilled all that information because she was thinking out loud. She wasn’t really sharing, just trying to avoid another panic attack. I’m not sure if we should be going back to work.

Once we arrive at the building where the Ahern offices are located, I direct her to the stairs.

“We should go home,” I suggest.

“No. I want to settle in before I officially start working next week,” she protests.

“I get it. You think I can’t function, and that’s why you’re giving me this job and …” she clamps her lips together tightly and shakes her head.

“Hey, you’re one of the smartest people that I know.” I lift her chin with my finger. “This job is yours because Dad wanted it that way. You could do it from anywhere, but I love that you are here, with me.”

“So, you’re saying I can leave?” She eyes me with a daring scowl.

“You make it sound like you’re my prisoner,” I say, disappointed. “I was under the impression you came because you wanted to be with me—not because I forced you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Why are you here, Abby?”

“Because of you. I couldn’t jeopardize losing you.” Her eyes scan the area. “This place scares me. I know you think I’m insane but—”

“No. What I think is that you’re hiding something important.” I touch her temple. “Whatever happened in the past is affecting you, and it’s getting worse.”

“What if the past catches up with my present?”

I’m a little disappointed in her. It’s been years since she left her old home. She doesn’t want to talk to a professional about it and insists that therapy can’t help her—when the real reason is because she’s unable to talk about her past. And I can’t judge her or assume, but if she doesn’t help herself—no one will.

“It takes time to overcome your traumas,” I say firmly.

I touch my chest lightly. “I was a kid who lived out of garbage cans. My house was filled with prostitutes and trash. I have no idea who my mother was or if I even had a mother. My parents, Will and Linda, understood your food issues because they went through the same battle when I came to live with them.”

“It’s not the same,” she whispers. “You didn’t have food. I had food, but I wasn’t allowed to touch it, unless …”

“Abby, what happened?”

“Nothing. Maybe you’re right. I’m overreacting.” She scrunches her nose and pulls back her shoulders. “I told you several times that I didn’t want to come back, but you said you needed me.”

“You came back out of pity?” I groan.

My shoulders slump. This woman, who is barely hanging on by a thread, came back because she thinks I can’t stand on my own two feet.

She lifts her chin; her eyes find mine. “No, I was afraid that I’d lose you if I didn’t come. I can’t imagine my world without you, Wes. I decided to live among the monsters because I choose to walk through pain and relive my past, if it means that I’m beside you.”

This is one of the millions of reasons why this woman owns my heart. She might not tell me who the monsters are, or what happened to her, but she battles them for my sake. How did I dare doubt her?

“You’d never lose me, no matter what, Abigail Lyons.” I pause, feeling tears begin to burn the back of my tightening throat. “If you need to leave, I’ll understand.”

“Wes,” she says. My name on her lips makes me shiver.

I close my eyes, waiting for her dismissal. The shortest affair of my life—lived in less than twenty-four hours. We kissed, we promised to give it a try, and then she left me behind.

“You’re right,” she says, caressing my jaw. “My past shouldn’t hold me back from my future. And I would never leave you—not when I know there’s the possibility of so much more.”

My heart restarts with her words. They are perfect, exactly what my head needs to hear, but deep down in my soul, I still know that’s it’s not right for her and maybe not right for the two of us either. The pain in her voice and her distress over the past couple of days are proof enough that this isn’t the place for her. I should be thinking about her wellbeing. She’ll wreck my fucking world once she leaves, but I’d do anything to see her happy.

“Hey, Weston Ahern, stop trying to fix my life. I’m responsible for it. The decision to