Consumed (Gem Creek Bears Book 7) Page 4

  How could we make him hurt less?

  We both knew there was nothing we could do. There was no point in asking if he was all right either because clearly he wasn’t. Who would be after receiving news like he had? I didn’t want to touch him again because I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if he shook my touch off for a third time or if he glanced at me with harsh hatred reflected in his eyes again. So, I sat there, feeling as though I was on eggshells, waiting for him to speak, to move, to do something.

  Time ticked away. Night turned morning. And neither of us moved. We remained where we were… whole but broken.

  Chapter Five

  Emotions I thought I’d scratched onto blank canvases and sold to become someone else’s burden were still with me. They were still there. Clearly, they always had been.

  All it had taken was one look at Nash for everything to come rushing back.

  I ripped at the ground, pulling up handfuls of weeds and tossing them into the bin Gran had set out for us. A thorn from something pierced my skin and I jerked my hand back, cursing under my breath.

  “The ground is biting back at you for being so angry,” Gran said from the next row over. “Maybe you should simmer down some.”

  “I’m fine,” I snapped.

  “Really? You don’t seem fine,” she said, shifting to look at me. I could feel her eyes on me. “You still feel something for him. It’s nothing to beat yourself up about.”

  I froze. “You’re right. I do still feel something for him—anger, and lots of it.” I glanced at her. Her lips were twisted into the knowing smirk she always gave me when she knew I was lying through my teeth.

  I hated that look.

  “It’s more than that, and you know it. No matter how much you try to deny it,” she insisted.

  My blood boiled, but only because I knew she was right. There was so much more than anger swirling through my veins for Nash. There was rage, bitterness, heartache, pain, and in the furthest corner… hope.

  It was the sensation of hope I hated most.

  It made me feel dumb and weak. I didn’t want to feel anything remotely related to hope while thinking of Nash. The fact that I did, on multiple levels, pissed me off. I’d thought that because so much time had passed since I’d been face-to-face with him I wouldn’t feel anything for him anymore. That I’d be numb to him.

  But I wasn’t.

  I felt everything as though it happened yesterday.

  “Maybe you should try talking to him again. Work through some of the past that still bothers you,” Gran suggested. “The two of you have grown since you left, and that boy has always been infatuated with you. You’ve consumed his mind since the first hello. You know that.”

  I blinked, the ground blurring as tears built in my eyes. My mind was tossed back to the memory of the night when Nash had said something similar. I’d been so happy when he’d said it too. Then the phone had rang. Then the silence came. And then his pain.

  Everything we were unraveled next.

  “You should give him another chance. Hear him out. Talk things through. He was hurting, Sam,” Gran insisted, her tone firm.

  Was she picking sides? His side?

  Pain pierced my heart like a million needles. She knew everything that happened between us. How could she choose his side over mine? I was her granddaughter. She’d raised me.

  “I was hurting too.” I locked eyes with her, fighting back tears.

  Gran stood and walked to where I sat. She placed a hand on my back, and I leaned into her. She moved her hand in slow, comforting circles. “I’m not making excuses for him, Sam, but he had lost his parents on top of everything else. He was going through a lot. That’s not to say that you weren’t too, though. I understand that, I do, but people handle grief differently. They hurt differently. Which isn’t something you should fault them for. You can’t be angry at someone for handling their grief in a different way than you do.”

  I had a million angry things I wanted to say to her, but when she fell into a coughing fit they evaporated. I stood, worry festering through me as I stared at her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, placing a hand on her back. My eyes grew wide as I struggled to figure out a way to help her.

  Maybe she needed some water? To get out of the sun? To rest?

  “I’m fine. It’s just my sickness reminding me it’s still here,” she said in between coughs. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not dead yet. I just need some water. I’ll be right back. You keep weeding. I’ll bring my basket out to you so we can gather up those ripe tomatoes. The blackberries look like they’re ready to be picked too,” she muttered as she made her way inside.

  I exhaled a shaky breath, watching her walk to the porch. My cell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. It wasn’t a number I recognized, but it was a Denton area code. I answered it, thinking maybe it was a buyer for a painting or someone wondering if they could showcase my work.

  “Samantha Mathers,” I answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, Miss Mathers.”

  A shiver slid up my spine.

  “Mr. Kincaid. How are you?” I asked. While he couldn’t see my facial expression, I knew he would be able to hear the irritation in my voice.

  I didn’t want to deal with him and his constant desire to commission a piece from me right now. There were more important things on my mind.

  “I’m well, but I would be even better if you accepted my offer.” His tone was cocky. “I need you to paint a piece for me using your talents, Miss Mathers. I’m reaching out to you again to give you a second opportunity to take me up on my offer. Whatever your price is, just name it.”

  I rolled my eyes. There was no amount of money that would make me tell him yes right now. I needed to focus on Gran, not on painting something for him. “I’m sorry, but it’s still a firm no. I don’t do commissions like that.”

  Heck, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to produce a painting like he wanted on command using my gift. Especially not one for something specific, which sounded like what he wanted. The images just came to me. I’d never pushed for them.

  That wasn’t how my gift worked.

  “That isn’t the answer I hoped for.” His tone was harsh. So harsh that my stomach twisted and my bear immediately went on high alert.

  I’d always thought the rumors about him being dangerous were true. Now I was positive.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “Oh, you haven’t disappointed me, Miss Mathers, you’ve only prolonged the inevitable,” he insisted, causing my blood to run cold. “You will paint the image I ask for using your talent.” His tone was sharp and precise. It held confidence that scared me.

  “I don’t—”

  “Have a nice day, Miss Mathers,” he said. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  He hung up before I could utter another word. Dread spiraled through me. Damon Kincaid wasn’t a docile person. As a prominent attorney in the Denton area for well-known criminals, he wasn’t someone you wanted to tick off, and I was ninety-nine percent sure that I just had.

  The back door to Gran’s opened, and I flinched. Talking with Damon had put my bear and me on edge. I looked to the porch, expecting to see Gran and saw Nash instead. He walked through the door, carrying a picnic basket and sipping from a glass of water. I exhaled a slow breath and crammed my cell into my back pocket unsure of how much more I could handle today.

  I glared at him. “What are you doing here again?”

  Nash scowled at me. It was one of his signature looks that I knew well. To most, his expression would come off as seeming pissed. Not to me, though. I knew he was only confused.

  “I never left. I’ve been on the front porch, waiting for you to come back out,” he said. I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Dottie told me to bring this basket out to you. Need any help picking stuff from the garden?”

  I folded my arms over my chest and stared at him. Couldn’t he
take a hint that I didn’t want to talk to him—that I didn’t want to be around him? My bear snapped at me, hating my desire to send him away.

  He sat his water on the wooden table and then made his way to me in the garden. When he reached me, he held the basket out, flashing me that crooked grin he knew I’d never been able to resist. I jerked the basket from him and then stormed off toward the tomatoes.

  Nash followed.

  I pretended not to notice, but I could feel his presence pressing against me like a familiar, cozy blanket. My gaze remained locked on the tomatoes. There were so many ripe ones, I didn’t know where to start.

  “I swear these plants get taller every day,” Nash said.

  They were pretty tall. Heck, they were taller than me by at least an inch or two. What was Gran feeding them?

  “Did you know she planted these for you?” Nash asked.

  “What?” My voice sounded snippier than I’d intended it to as I shifted to glance at him. If he noticed my tone, he didn’t let on.

  “The zucchini.” He nodded to the plant with leaves big enough to serve as umbrellas.

  I smiled at the sight. “For her famous chocolate chip zucchini muffins, I bet.”

  “Yeah. She made some not too long ago. We sat on the back porch together, eating them. All I could do was think of you the entire time.”

  I blinked, taken aback by his words and the vulnerability that rang through his tone.

  “I’ve thought about you every day since you left, Sam,” he whispered.

  All the air left my lungs, and I forgot how to breathe. My bear grumbled, hating the torture that burned through his eyes. She was growing more irritated with me by the second for having hurt him.

  “Why?” I asked, hoping for an honest answer from him. The last thing I wanted was for him to say something he thought I wanted to hear.

  Did he regret the way things happened between us? Did he regret pushing me away? Did he regret not being there for me? Did he know that because of him, I’d built walls so high around my heart no one could peek over them or get inside?

  I blinked hard, realizing for the first time how jaded I was because of him.

  Nash had made me this way.

  “I thought of you every day because I missed you,” he said, his eyes never wavering from mine.

  “You missed me?” I scoffed, hating everything about his answer. “Okay. Sure.” I rolled my eyes.

  He’d missed me, but yet he’d been the one to push me away. He’d been the one to allow tension and distance to fester between us until it had a pulse.

  Tears formed in my eyes, and I hated myself for it. Nash didn’t deserve any more of my tears. I’d given him plenty in the past. I shifted to grab a tomato, and then tossed it in my basket. Nash stepped closer. I could feel his presence seeking me out. My bear tried to surface, but I stood my ground against her.

  “I know I messed up,” Nash muttered. “I know that, and I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I should have handled everything better. If I had, then maybe you wouldn’t have left. Maybe we’d still be something.”

  My breath caught again. This was the apology I’d been waiting for. The problem was: I didn’t think it had the power to fix things between us like I used to.

  “Maybe,” I said, grabbing a few more tomatoes without looking at him. Then, I headed for the cabin.

  “I love you, Sam. I never stopped.”

  I paused on the porch and spun to look at him. When I did, the glass of water on the table caught my eye. Condensation dripped down its sides. The backdrop of the mountains. The garden.

  It was my painting. The one sitting in the passenger seat of my SUV.

  Anger bloomed through my chest because if my gift had shifted to the left just a smidge, I’d have painted Nash into the picture, and then I would have at least had a freaking heads up about this conversation.

  Would it have mattered, though? Would it have kept me from returning to Gem Creek?

  Hell no. Gran was sick. She needed me.

  I stared at the glass of water, watching as a drop of condensation slid down its side. The tension in my gut eased as the realization I was right where I was supposed to be washed over me. I shifted my gaze to Nash. He looked raw and broken. Scared even, like he didn’t know what I’d say but like his life depended on whatever fell from my lips next.

  “Quit trying to love me, Nash. Too much damage has been done,” I said, holding his stare. When my words hit him, I saw a piece of him break. The sight tore at the edges of my heart, causing me more pain than I thought possible, and my bear released a loud growl that vibrated my insides.

  Nash’s eyes darkened, and tension rippled through his muscles, causing his jaw to flex and twitch. This was what Nash looked like when he hurt. I knew the look well because it had been forever burned into my memory.

  “I can’t do that. I won’t,” he said.

  “You should,” I whispered. “We can’t go back to how we were. What we had before is gone.”

  “I’m not asking us to go back to that. Hell, I’m not even asking for us to pick up where we left off. I’m asking that we start over.” He ran a hand through his hair; his eyes never wavering from mine.

  “We can’t. There’s too much history and too much pain.”

  Nash took a step closer, and the pain in his eyes intensified. “Give me something, Sam. Please. A second chance. I’ll do better this time because I know better.”

  A tear fell from my eye. I hated hearing him plead with me. I hated seeing how broken he was. It made me realize that I wasn’t the only one who walked away from us as merely a shell of their previous self.

  He had too.

  “No,” I said simply. And then I walked inside, closing the door behind me.

  I couldn’t give Nash a second chance because there was no way I could go back to the way I used to love. My heart wasn’t right anymore. It wasn’t capable of loving someone the way it used to.

  Not even him.

  Chapter Six

  Another mosquito bit me as I grabbed a bottle of water from Gran’s cooler. We’d spent the morning fishing at the pond inside the campground, but I had yet to catch a thing. Gran, on the other hand, had already caught three fish.

  I slapped at the mosquito, squashing him, and then sighed. “Yuck.” I wiped the bug guts on my shorts and then made my way back to my pole. “Nothing. Still. I could walk away from this thing for an hour and still not get a single bite.”

  “It’s all your negative energy sending the fish away. They can feel it trickling through the line,” Gran insisted. “You’re never gonna catch any fish with that negative attitude of yours.”

  “What negative attitude? I’m fine,” I said, twisting the cap off the bottle of water and taking a sip.

  “You’re not fine. You’ve been stewing about Nash all morning.”

  I frowned at her, even though what she said was the truth. The conversation I’d had with Nash yesterday kept playing on repeat through my mind. Every time I thought of him, I saw his broken expression and the torment in his eyes.

  I felt terrible for the things I’d said, but they had been the truth.

  “What happened to you wasn’t his fault. You know that, don’t you?” Gran asked in a whisper.

  I shifted to lock eyes with her. “Yes.”

  “It wasn’t yours either.”

  My gaze fell back to the pond. While I knew what happened wasn’t anyone’s fault, it made me feel better to find someone or something to blame. Even if it wasn’t right. I’d blamed Nash for making me feel the way he did in the days leading up to what happened. I’d also blamed him for pushing me away before and after. But most of all, I’d blamed myself—my body—for betraying me by not doing the one thing it should have been capable of doing all on its own.

  Carry a child.

  “It wasn’t his fault, Sam, and it wasn’t yours. I know it’s hard to believe, and I knew it’s easier to blame someone or something else, but it’s the truth. You
need to know that nothing either of you could’ve done differently would have changed the outcome of what happened,” Gran insisted.

  Tears built in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to feel what I was feeling—the swell of emotion rising inside me.

  “You need to let that blame go, honey. It’ll eat you up the rest of your life if you don’t.” Gran reeled in her fishing pole and set it aside. Her hand smoothed along my upper back before she moved to gather our things. “I think the best way to release what you’ve got bottled up is to talk to him. Tell Nash what you’re feeling. Tell him what you needed from him at that moment that you didn’t get. Who knows, maybe whatever he says will be the balm to fix what you’re feeling. Even if the two of you don’t get back together, maybe it’ll be enough to allow you both to move forward at least. You need closure, honey, and not just with what happened—you need closure from Nash. I can sense it.”

  Tears streamed from my eyes. “I know.”

  “You’re still hurting.” She moved to give me a hug, and I melted against her.

  “How are you always right?” I asked.

  “Wisdom comes with age.”

  We laughed, but her laughter didn’t last long. It turned into a coughing fit. Her third of the day already. A heaviness settled over me. All I could think about was how much I would miss her when she was gone.

  “Help me carry these things back to the cabin. I think it’s time I rest. You should go find Nash while I nap and talk to him. Tell him what’s on your heart,” she insisted.

  I grabbed the fishing rod from her and noticed how drained she suddenly looked. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and sit in my vehicle? I’ll load everything up.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  After I loaded everything up, I drove us back to the cabin.

  “I’ll take everything in. You go rest,” I said to Gran.

  She didn’t argue with me, which I knew was a testament to how tired she was. I watched her walk inside and felt a heaviness press against me—she wasn’t doing good. My limbs shook as I climbed out of my vehicle to unload our fishing gear and cooler. As soon as I popped the trunk, my cell chimed with a new text. I figured it was Karen. She’d called last night to make sure I’d made it to Gem Creek okay and to touch base with me on Damon Kincaid’s offer. Apparently, he’d contacted her after I declined by phone yesterday. She thought I was dumb to refuse, but then again, she didn’t really know what he was asking of me since she knew nothing about my shifter side or my gift.