Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [120]
“Abby and I ended things this evening.”
“What?”
Mike stayed focused on Lorie, his expression grim. “It was never right between Abby and me. I tried to make it work. God knows she tried. She’s a fine woman, but…I don’t love her. And my kids don’t even like her. And my mother…Hell, listen to me, would you? My personal life is none of your damn business and yet here I am explaining myself to you.”
“You’re right about that. Your personal life is none of my business. But your moving in with me is my business.”
“I’m staying with you as your protector, to keep you safe. I’m certainly not standing here declaring my undying love for you or anything like that.” He glanced down at the floor as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Our personal relationship hasn’t changed. You’re off-limits to me, the same as you’ve been ever since you came back to Dunmore.”
“Screw you, Michael Birkett! I want you to leave. Get out of my house right now and don’t come back.”
He looked at her, his brow wrinkled, his gaze narrowed and anger brightening his blue-black eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the duration, to do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
Barely able to refrain from hitting him, Lorie uttered a frustrated groan. “Damn you. You do not get to play the martyr, willing to lay your life on the line and die to protect me. Whatever your reasons for doing this, please don’t. If you’re doing this to make it up to me for treating me like the dirt beneath your feet all these years, then don’t. I absolve you of any sins you think you’ve committed against me. Go home, Mike. Go back to your safe, uncomplicated, above-reproach life. Take care of your kids and keep looking until you find yourself another Molly.”
She’d had it. All she could take. The very thought of having to endure Mike’s presence in her home night after night was more than she could bear.
She walked past him until she reached the hallway, and then she ran into her bedroom and slammed the door. For half a second, she considered locking it, but if Mike wanted in, a locked door wouldn’t stop him. And in all honesty, she didn’t think Mike would invade her privacy. Hopefully, she had persuaded him to leave. But whatever he decided to do—go or stay—she didn’t have to deal with him again tonight. There would be time enough for that in the morning.
After kicking off her shoes, she fell across the bed and onto her stomach. Turning slowly onto her side, she released the tears she had been holding in check all day. As she lay there crying, her body instinctively curled into a fetal ball.
After setting the security alarm, Mike picked up his vinyl bag, flung it over his shoulder, and walked down the hall. Jack had given him the security code right before he and Cathy left. Mike paused outside Lorie’s closed door. He’d made such a mess of things. In his own redneck, He-Man, take-charge way, he’d barged in and told Lorie how it was going to be. What kind of fool did that make him? If he’d ever stopped and thought about the situation, he would have known how she would react. Lorie had always hated being told what to do. As a teenager, she had rebelled against her father’s stern domination and had sworn she would never be any man’s doormat, the way her mother was. If her parents had been different, if they had seen her through his eyes, as the beautiful, exciting, free spirit he had fallen in love with, maybe things would have turned out differently for her. But he couldn’t lay all the blame on her parents. As much as he hated to admit it—and had fought against the truth all these years—if he had encouraged Lorie’s dreams of becoming a movie star, if he had gone to LA with her and been there for her when things went wrong, she would never have made that damn porno movie.
If he had it to do over again, what would he do?
Hindsight is twenty-twenty. No use crying over spilled milk. What