Savage sighed again and stepped aside, letting her slip inside her car. The moment she was seated and she took the keys, he stepped back and closed her door.
She wanted to cry as she looked at him through the window while she started her car. It was the last time she was ever going to see him. He was a beautiful, gorgeous man, but far too broken for her to fix. She couldn’t save him any more than she could have saved her parents or herself. She’d done everything for them, even taken on their illness, and in the end, she’d lost everything, just as she would lose Savage. The difference was, with Savage, she would lose her heart. Her soul. Everything she was.
TEN
Seychelle drove straight to the bar. She could walk to a motel from there. Motels were in abundance. Tourists came often for whale watching and film festivals and everything else Sea Haven and Fort Bragg had to offer. Then there was Alena’s restaurant, Crow 287, fast becoming a huge draw for Caspar. There was everything there, but she was leaving.
She put her head down on the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry. She had come here hoping for a new start. She wanted to be independent and happy, but she wasn’t either of those things. She was strong and disciplined in most areas of her life, but the fact that she couldn’t stop herself from trying to heal other people’s illnesses was slowly killing her. She was just worn out. There was no way to stop herself. She’d tried, but she just couldn’t find any control. That meant living a very solitary existence. She didn’t even know what she was doing, as evidenced by coming here to this bar. It made no sense and yet here she was.
Savage. She whispered his name. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
She had no control when it came to him. No more control than she had when it came to her strange gift—or curse—of attempting to heal others. She’d never felt so much for another human being. She’d never felt so alive. So passionate. So completely happy or sad. So . . . everything when she was with Savage. She had no balance anymore.
She caught glimpses of the violence in his life. Of darkness. He was worried about his dark sexual practices coming to light and that she would be disgusted. She was intrigued. She even, to some extent, fantasized about them. That was a hidden secret she barely wanted to admit to herself. Why she would be hot, slick and wanting whenever she thought about Savage and what he needed, she didn’t know, especially when nothing else seemed to put her body in the mood. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to explore that side of herself, although the thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
But other women? She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. No matter how much she loved him. How much she wanted to be with him. The emptiness she felt when she was away from him. Just feeling the raw lust those women had for him as they fixated on him had eaten away at her. She’d felt less of a woman than she ever had in her life, and Savage had dismissed her concerns and doubts so easily.
She stared at herself in the rearview mirror and then, making up her mind, she locked her car and went inside. There were mostly men sitting at the bar and a few couples occupying the tables. A country-western song was playing, and the lights were low. Exactly what she needed. She bought a pack of cigarettes and immediately went outside and lit one. She might have enjoyed it, but she felt a little like a guilty, defiant child instead of an adult making her own decisions—because lighting up the cigarette was just that: defiance. She didn’t even want to smoke. Restless and unhappy, she crushed it under her foot, picked it up and tossed it in the trash can just outside the bar.
Back inside, she ordered a drink, and immediately one of the men at the bar insisted on paying for it. He slid from his bar stool to sit beside her. His name was Bill, and no, it wasn’t her first time in the bar, but she didn’t come here often. He gave out harmless vibes of loneliness, so she let him pay for her drink. He seemed a nice enough man, just trying to find his way the same way she was.
Two drinks later she was back outside with another cigarette. This smoke was much more enjoyable than the last one. Bill stood with her, still talking, but his vibe had gone from lonely to far more amorous. He was easy, though. Easy to talk to. It was easy to make decisions about whether or not she wanted to be with him. He’d tried to kiss her once, but she couldn’t, not with her suddenly churning stomach threatening to empty itself all over him. Smoking outside was a better thing to do. She felt so sick. And the world kept tilting, first one way and then the other.
“Come on, baby, time to go home.”