All or Nothing at All
Page 18
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“Did you enjoy living in the city?”
She didn’t ask the question she really wanted to know:
Did he regret coming home to stay?
“The city is a beast. It’s big and powerful and tries to devour you whole. But if you work hard, take your punches, and fight back, the rewards make it worth it. I found my niche. Sometimes it was brutal, because this business is cutthroat and you have to be able to make some hard decisions. There are people who get right in your face and say you’ll fail. You have to get past the negative junk.” His voice held a bit of self-mockery. “Dear old Dad helped me with that.”
She smiled. Christian had been hard on him, but like with everything else, Tristan was able to take the bad and change it into a life lesson. “He did have a way with words,” she said drily.
He smiled back. The bitterness and hatred toward his father had softened over the two years since his death. In a way, Sydney wondered if Tristan was able to see him more as a man than as a father. Diane had eventually left Christian for another lover, only to die in that fateful car crash. The events had trapped Christian in such bitterness, he alienated his family one by one. It was as if he ended up only punishing himself, and Tristan had finally moved past it.
“I loved the cultural benefits in New York. Great restaurants. Theater. Opera. Museums. Endless opportunities to meet interesting people and have unique experiences.”
A pang hit her. She’d never traveled. Sure, she’d been to the city for a few events. She’d visited Boston, and Philly, and even taken a short ski trip to Vermont. But that was as far as she’d gone. She’d never longed to see beyond the borders of Harrington and used to look at it as a lack within herself. Especially compared with Tristan’s burning need to see the world and flee his home. After birthing Becca, she’d learned more about herself and refused to apologize any longer for her own dreams. She’d been lucky to be raised by grandparents who loved her, but knowing her parents never cared about her broke something deep inside. She’d always felt . . . needy. Needy for love and security. For comfort. For assurances that everything would work out.
When she was pregnant with Becca, Sydney had needed to provide a home and security for her daughter. She’d known Jason for years, as he worked construction for a competitor, but when he seriously began pursuing her after Tristan left, he seemed like the answer to everything. He was kind, happily settled in town, and wanted a wife and family. When he learned of her pregnancy, he didn’t run but offered a future they both seemed to want. It was a whirlwind courtship so they could be married quickly. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to discover that friendship and good intentions did not make a marriage. How badly she’d wanted to lay a strong foundation of home for herself and Becca. They’d tried so hard to make it work, but when Becca turned six months old, Jason was offered a unique opportunity to move overseas to do underwater construction, and everything fell apart.
Besides refusing to move her daughter to a new country, they realized there was too much missing in their marriage to endure a long-distance relationship. Their decision to part was painful, but there’d been no resentment. Just a sadness they weren’t meant to be together. Becca still retained her ex-husband’s name, but Jason was no longer a part of their lives. Becca was truly, solely hers. One day, she intended to explain to her daughter the details of her past, but Becca was still too young to understand. One day, questions would be raised and answers demanded.
After all, the truth was clearly revealed on the birth certificate.
But not now. Not with Tristan refusing to even interact with her daughter and not with the distance between them.
Her brief marriage taught her so much. Sydney had spent her entire life consistently looking to others, usually men, to fill the empty, aching void inside.
Now she knew only one person could fill it.
Herself.
She refocused on the conversation. “I guess you miss New York.” Her voice sounded calm and analytical, with a touch of interest.
“Not anymore.” She glanced at him, startled to find his gaze swiveled to meet hers. “I know I belong here. With my brothers. Running Pierce Brothers.” His amber eyes flared with intensity. “I’m finally home.”
The tension knotted a few notches tighter. She fought the urge to roll down her window for air. Instead, she reached for her coffee with trembling hands. Okay, no more questions. She didn’t like playing with matches that could cause a bad fire. She still carried the scars from the last one.
“What about you? Do you regret never leaving Harrington?”
The past rose up like a tsunami, but she fought the waves and held on. “No. I never needed to leave to find myself.”
“Plus you had Becca.”
She froze. Her daughter’s name on his lips caused a deep shudder to wrack her body. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I had Becca to think of.”
“Do you ever see him?”
Her voice broke. “No.”
The pause between them was rife with memory. “He never comes back to see her?”
Her head spun in sudden sickness. She put her coffee down and concentrated on breathing. She needed to pull it together. “He lives overseas now and isn’t part of our lives. Becca’s mine and no one else’s. And I’d rather not discuss my ex-husband.”
He drove in silence. This was the reason she couldn’t be alone with him. The questions were too dangerous—the mess of the past better left untouched. The soothing jazz coming from the stereo mocked the seething tension between them. “Syd?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you thought about that kiss?”
Sydney sucked in her breath. Instantly, the chemistry flickered, caught, and burned hot. All of her senses were trained on him, his body heat practically pulling her in. Her nostrils flared at his scent, and her body surged to life, still conditioned to her first love, her first lover, her first heartbreak.
Yes. She wanted to scream, fight, surrender, beg. Instead, she locked her muscles and fought with everything she had left.
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
A cry caught in her throat. She would not do this with him. She made sure to inflect her voice with her only defense: coldness. “Then I’d suggest you get over it. Because nothing is going to happen between us again. We agreed to a working truce and no more.”
She didn’t ask the question she really wanted to know:
Did he regret coming home to stay?
“The city is a beast. It’s big and powerful and tries to devour you whole. But if you work hard, take your punches, and fight back, the rewards make it worth it. I found my niche. Sometimes it was brutal, because this business is cutthroat and you have to be able to make some hard decisions. There are people who get right in your face and say you’ll fail. You have to get past the negative junk.” His voice held a bit of self-mockery. “Dear old Dad helped me with that.”
She smiled. Christian had been hard on him, but like with everything else, Tristan was able to take the bad and change it into a life lesson. “He did have a way with words,” she said drily.
He smiled back. The bitterness and hatred toward his father had softened over the two years since his death. In a way, Sydney wondered if Tristan was able to see him more as a man than as a father. Diane had eventually left Christian for another lover, only to die in that fateful car crash. The events had trapped Christian in such bitterness, he alienated his family one by one. It was as if he ended up only punishing himself, and Tristan had finally moved past it.
“I loved the cultural benefits in New York. Great restaurants. Theater. Opera. Museums. Endless opportunities to meet interesting people and have unique experiences.”
A pang hit her. She’d never traveled. Sure, she’d been to the city for a few events. She’d visited Boston, and Philly, and even taken a short ski trip to Vermont. But that was as far as she’d gone. She’d never longed to see beyond the borders of Harrington and used to look at it as a lack within herself. Especially compared with Tristan’s burning need to see the world and flee his home. After birthing Becca, she’d learned more about herself and refused to apologize any longer for her own dreams. She’d been lucky to be raised by grandparents who loved her, but knowing her parents never cared about her broke something deep inside. She’d always felt . . . needy. Needy for love and security. For comfort. For assurances that everything would work out.
When she was pregnant with Becca, Sydney had needed to provide a home and security for her daughter. She’d known Jason for years, as he worked construction for a competitor, but when he seriously began pursuing her after Tristan left, he seemed like the answer to everything. He was kind, happily settled in town, and wanted a wife and family. When he learned of her pregnancy, he didn’t run but offered a future they both seemed to want. It was a whirlwind courtship so they could be married quickly. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to discover that friendship and good intentions did not make a marriage. How badly she’d wanted to lay a strong foundation of home for herself and Becca. They’d tried so hard to make it work, but when Becca turned six months old, Jason was offered a unique opportunity to move overseas to do underwater construction, and everything fell apart.
Besides refusing to move her daughter to a new country, they realized there was too much missing in their marriage to endure a long-distance relationship. Their decision to part was painful, but there’d been no resentment. Just a sadness they weren’t meant to be together. Becca still retained her ex-husband’s name, but Jason was no longer a part of their lives. Becca was truly, solely hers. One day, she intended to explain to her daughter the details of her past, but Becca was still too young to understand. One day, questions would be raised and answers demanded.
After all, the truth was clearly revealed on the birth certificate.
But not now. Not with Tristan refusing to even interact with her daughter and not with the distance between them.
Her brief marriage taught her so much. Sydney had spent her entire life consistently looking to others, usually men, to fill the empty, aching void inside.
Now she knew only one person could fill it.
Herself.
She refocused on the conversation. “I guess you miss New York.” Her voice sounded calm and analytical, with a touch of interest.
“Not anymore.” She glanced at him, startled to find his gaze swiveled to meet hers. “I know I belong here. With my brothers. Running Pierce Brothers.” His amber eyes flared with intensity. “I’m finally home.”
The tension knotted a few notches tighter. She fought the urge to roll down her window for air. Instead, she reached for her coffee with trembling hands. Okay, no more questions. She didn’t like playing with matches that could cause a bad fire. She still carried the scars from the last one.
“What about you? Do you regret never leaving Harrington?”
The past rose up like a tsunami, but she fought the waves and held on. “No. I never needed to leave to find myself.”
“Plus you had Becca.”
She froze. Her daughter’s name on his lips caused a deep shudder to wrack her body. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I had Becca to think of.”
“Do you ever see him?”
Her voice broke. “No.”
The pause between them was rife with memory. “He never comes back to see her?”
Her head spun in sudden sickness. She put her coffee down and concentrated on breathing. She needed to pull it together. “He lives overseas now and isn’t part of our lives. Becca’s mine and no one else’s. And I’d rather not discuss my ex-husband.”
He drove in silence. This was the reason she couldn’t be alone with him. The questions were too dangerous—the mess of the past better left untouched. The soothing jazz coming from the stereo mocked the seething tension between them. “Syd?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you thought about that kiss?”
Sydney sucked in her breath. Instantly, the chemistry flickered, caught, and burned hot. All of her senses were trained on him, his body heat practically pulling her in. Her nostrils flared at his scent, and her body surged to life, still conditioned to her first love, her first lover, her first heartbreak.
Yes. She wanted to scream, fight, surrender, beg. Instead, she locked her muscles and fought with everything she had left.
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
A cry caught in her throat. She would not do this with him. She made sure to inflect her voice with her only defense: coldness. “Then I’d suggest you get over it. Because nothing is going to happen between us again. We agreed to a working truce and no more.”
