I put the footsteps out of my mind and stared at the sea.
Then it hit me the footsteps stopped.
Then I felt him behind me.
Then I tensed as I felt him move.
Then I closed my eyes tight when all that was him, and damn, there was a lot of him, surrounded me.
He sat behind me, right at my back, his long legs on either side, knees bent, insides pressed to the outsides of mine. His long arms circling me. His massive front pressing into my back. His jaw pressing into the side of my hair.
And there he whispered, “Mama.”
That one word tore through me like a blade.
I opened my eyes and saw sea.
“How did you find me?” I asked the waves and the minute I started speaking, his arms convulsed.
“Tate,” he answered.
Right. Of course. His bounty hunter friend.
Scratch Tate off my Christmas list.
“We gotta talk,” he said gently.
“Nothing to talk about,” I replied.
“You know there is, baby.” He was still talking gently. It was nice. I’d heard him be gentle. I’d heard him be soft. I’d heard him be sweet. I’d heard him be quiet. But none of them were as gentle, soft, sweet and quiet as the way he was now.
But it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered anymore. When shit mattered, it could hurt you.
So nothing mattered anymore and I was determined to keep it that way.
“No, there isn’t,” I told him.
His arms gave me another squeeze, “Lexie –”
I cut him off. “Unless you brought the divorce papers. You said you’d deal and all I had to do is sign. Is that why you’re here?”
His arms tightened on the words “divorce papers” but they didn’t loosen even after I was done speaking.
And his answer was instantaneous.
“No it f**kin’ is not.”
“Then you wasted a trip.”
“Lexie, baby, listen to me.”
“Think you said enough.”
His tight arms gave me a gentle shake. “I was pissed –”
“Yeah, I got that.”