If You Come Back To Me. Beth KeryЧитать онлайн книгу.
noisy bar.
A crowded, noisy bar in Harbor Town, of all places.
She pulled back from Marc’s embrace and touched her fingertips to her cheeks, mortified to feel how hot they were.
“Excuse me,” she murmured before she twisted out of his arms.
The water from the ladies’ room sink barely cooled her burning cheeks. Her heat had sprung from an inner source that wasn’t so easily extinguished. Her eyes closed, she folded a wet paper towel and pressed it to her face, trying to regain her equilibrium.
He could knock her off balance so easily—still and always.
The thought of walking out there and facing Eric and the other patrons mortified her. Marc and she had been practically glued together on the dance floor. At the recollection of Marc nuzzling and kissing her neck—and of her not only allowing it, but loving it—shock washed over her.
She needed to get out of the bar. She needed to get out of Harbor Town altogether, as quickly as possible.
She’d apologize to Eric tomorrow for her abrupt abandonment.
Someone—a woman—called out to her as she fled the noisy establishment. Mari glanced over at the bar and glimpsed Liam and Colleen Kavanaugh watching her. She read excitement and a hint of concern in Colleen’s aquamarine eyes. Part of her was glad to see Colleen’s willingness to speak with her after all these years, but she was too discombobulated at the moment to renew old friendships. Panic pressed on her chest.
How could she have ever thought it was a good idea to return to Harbor Town? How could she have misled herself into believing Dr. Rothschild when her former therapist had said she had unfinished business in the little town and a bone-deep desire to heal?
She burst out the front door of Jake’s Place, gulped the warm, fresh air she’d been oxygen-deprived. It didn’t occur to her until she reached the parking lot just what—or who—it was she was escaping. A pair of hands settled on her shoulders and spun her around.
“Marc,” she said in a strangled voice. She hadn’t realized until that moment she’d been dreading his touch and anticipating it, as well.
“Don’t run from me, Mari. Don’t run from this.”
She swayed closer, to him, inhaling his scent. Nobody smelled like Marc. She wanted to believe that this was something they could solve. Her body wanted to believe him…wanted to trust in Marc, longed to be swept away by a dream.
A girl’s dream.
She met his blazing eyes.
“Marc, we can’t. Not again,” she whispered. She started to move out of their embrace, her fear returning, but he stopped her.
“What is it, Mari? What’s your problem with me?” he asked quietly. She saw wariness shadow his face, felt it rising in his tense muscles. “Is it that you think I’m a killer by association? I’m not my father, damn it. I barely finish a beer if I drink at all. I’d throw myself off the top of the Sears Tower before I got behind the wheel of a car drunk. I didn’t kill your parents.”
She blinked in shock at the sudden appearance of his anger. They’d tacitly agreed to stay away from the minefield of this topic in Chicago.
“I never said you did.”
“I lost my father in that crash, as well,” he said.
Her throat tightened. “I know that. Surely you know that.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think except that you believe I’m guilty by association. I don’t know, because you’ve never really told me, have you? You walked away five weeks ago. You left when we were together and refused to speak to me for fifteen years. One night, we were on the verge of becoming lovers, and the next, we were separated by the news of the crash. Within days, you were gone and thousands of miles separated us, as well.”
“Marc, we were kids. I’d lost almost my entire world,” she moaned.
“You came back to Harbor Town. You must have had a reason.”
“I did have a reason,” Mari said. Her gaze deflected off his face. What would he think about The Family Center? Her fantasies about opening it never included having to tell Marc about her plans. What if he thought the project was odd…or worse, self-righteous on Mari’s part? He’d probably never understand how much she’d thought of him while making her plans…of the young man she’d loved and lost so many years ago.
She closed her eyes, trying to banish her chaotic thoughts. All she wanted at that moment was to escape this volatile situation with Marc.
“I didn’t come back to Harbor Town for you. And I don’t want to talk about the past with you, either, Marc.”
“Who do you want to talk about it with? Reyes? Is it okay to talk about things with him? Because you’re both victims, while I’m the son of the monster who robbed you of your parents?”
“Marc, don’t. Please.”
It pained her more than she could bear to see the raw hurt on his handsome face. A need arose in her to soothe his sadness, to somehow ease his anguish. The knowledge that she was powerless to do so caused the swelling, tight sensation to mount in her chest. She was stunned at how easily that old wound had opened when she saw his expression of disillusionment.
His expression suddenly shifted. He caressed her upper arms in a soothing motion. “Jesus. You’re shaking. I’m sorry—”
“What’s going on, Mari?”
Mari’s eyes widened at the sound of the hard voice behind them. She looked over Marc’s right shoulder and saw Eric standing there, looking furious. Marc twisted his chin around.
“Oh, look,” Marc muttered with subdued sarcasm. “If it isn’t the other victim, here to save Mari from the beast. What are you going to do, Reyes? Start a brawl with me in the parking lot?”
“Marc—” Mari called out warningly, sensing the volatility inherent to the moment.
“No, Kavanaugh. That’d be your M.O., if I recall correctly,” Eric replied.
She grabbed hold of Marc’s shoulders and tried to get him to face her when he turned toward Eric. “Marc—”
“I’m betting he never bothered to tell you about that. Did he, Mari?” Eric asked. “I know Ryan wanted to keep that story from you—how Kavanaugh clobbered your brother in the parking lot of the courthouse after the judge made his final decision about the lawsuit?” His upper lip curled in contempt, Eric glanced at Marc.
Marc closed his eyes in what appeared to be frustration and mounting anger. After a second, he met her stare. She read regret on his features.
“I thought Ryan would have told you,” he said, for her ears only. “I thought maybe that was part of the reason you avoided me all these years.”
Something about her expression must have told him the truth—that Ryan never had told his little sister about their fight.
“I was twenty-two years old at the time, Mari. It was a long time ago.”
Marc and Ryan used to be inseparable, the best of friends. A powerful sadness swept over her.
“Is there a problem?” someone called out sharply.
Eric turned and saw the youngest male Kavanaugh stalking toward them. Mari had heard from Marc that Liam had become a decorated police detective. She could easily believe it was true. He looked like he was about to make a drug bust in a Chicago alley as he stormed toward them.
“Walk away, Reyes,” Liam barked, blue eyes blazing. “Why don’t you hurry back to that slick house on Buena Vista Drive that my mom’s money paid for?”
Eric’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You son of a—”
“I