Chapter Twenty-Five

T allulah looked down at the orange and golden leaves of New Hampshire from fifteen hundred feet in the air, the cool wind drying tear tracks on her cheeks. They weren’t tears of devastation, like the ones she’d been crying for over a week, even while going through the motions. School, sleep, activities. Go go go. Not sitting with the heartbreak long enough for it to consume her. No, these were tears of appreciation for the stunning world below.

The landscape rolled forever, disappearing into a bright blue sky. So much bigger than her. Bigger than anything, right? But just like a lot of the platitudes she’d been feeding herself since Pittsburgh, telling herself that her problems were tiny in comparison to the world... didn’t help the pain so much. Now the fact that she’d rekindled her courage alone? Put it to use by kayaking, hot air ballooning, trying new restaurants, existing with a broken heart?

That helped. A lot.

Truthfully, Tallulah wasn’t as nervous to be fifteen hundred feet in the air as she’d expected to be. For one, she’d kept her promise to herself. To stop hiding. Ejected herself from the safety of quiet research labs in remote areas, away from people and reminders of what happened with Brett, and she’d forced herself back among the living. She’d danced, she’d skinny dipped, gone back to school, made friends, taken a chance on love.

She’d had her heart shattered for her efforts, but look. Look. She was still walking, talking, and breathing. She’d reasoned that if she could survive what happened in that hospital room with Burgess, she could do just about anything, couldn’t she?

Even call her family. Hear their voices without being ashamed of herself for retreating into the safety of solitude, like she’d sworn to them she wouldn’t.

No more postcards.

No more pretense.

She’d reached the end of that lifeline.

Burgess might have been wrong to call her a coward, to wound her like that when she was offering only love and care and support. But his words had rung true, nonetheless. Before she took the final step of calling Istanbul, she wanted to do something big. Something to tear her safety zone wide open once and for all, so here she was. Floating above the tree line, as high and unfettered as a bird. Vulnerable to the wind. And she wasn’t scared.

Burgess had been right about more than one thing. He’d told her she wouldn’t need a bodyguard forever, hadn’t he? Yes. Here she was proving him right. Proving herself capable. She couldn’t help aching to share the moment with him. It was an ache that wouldn’t quit.

Tallulah braced a hand on the tightly woven basket, her heart performing one of those dramatic nose dives into her stomach that it insisted on doing every time she thought of the hockey player too much. Was his back getting better? Was he in pain? Should she have screamed at him for being a dick, but ultimately stayed?

No.

No, he’d lost her.

He’d shown his true colors and abandoned the trust they’d built.

She would never allow him to get close enough to hurt her again.

Ever.

Bolstered by her resolve, Tallulah took her hand off the basket and reached down into its depths for her purse. She took out the ziplock bag containing the postcards she’d been collecting, holding them to her chest for several moments. Finally, with a quick intake of breath that she held until her lungs started to burn, she opened the baggie and turned it over outside of the basket, letting the wind take the dozen or so cards and carry them away, bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. They fluttered toward the ground in spins of color, eventually growing so small they disappeared from view.

Letting go of those postcards, her crutch, was hard, but obviously necessary, because as soon as they were gone, she felt higher than the balloon. Like she could float all on her own.

Before setting down her purse again, she removed her phone.

And with her heart knocking in her ears, she called Istanbul.

“Hey, Lara, it’s me.” She listened for a moment, warmth flooding into her limbs, her face, and heart as exclamations and questions filled her ears. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m... going to be fine.”

F ive weeks later, Tallulah stood in the reception area of the resort thinking of those postcards and how they’d looked fluttering to the ground. How momentous that moment had been and how she’d grown a little stronger every day since beginning to communicate with her family again.

There was nothing that could rattle Tallulah now. So her ex-boyfriend/boss was attending the same wedding? And due to them being the only members of the bridal party, they were going to be spending a lot of time together? Bring it on, bub. She was wearing an invisible breastplate of steel, reinforced by the closure she’d gotten in New Hampshire. Some hockey player wasn’t going to penetrate it.

Tallulah was one hundred percent confident in the belief that seeing Burgess again wouldn’t rattle her. She’d even vowed it to herself on the plane ride from Boston, during which Chloe chatted her ear off about her secret wish to own a dog grooming company because who wouldn’t want to clip those widdle biddy paws all day? Sig sat beside his future stepsibling reading a book about financial investment strategies, an interesting choice for a professional hockey player, but she didn’t comment.

Once again in the resort shuttle, Tallulah reminded herself that she’d faced harder obstacles than a hulking athlete who’d chosen to cut her off at the knees, instead of accepting her love. Her help. She wasn’t nervous about seeing a man who didn’t even like to dance. A man who didn’t seize his chance to skinny dip or meet new people. A man that didn’t suit her—at all. He could be staring down at her right now and she’d be unaffected. Unmoved.

Thank you, next.

I’m over you, Burgess Abraham.

She believed that right up until she saw him at the resort reception desk—

And her heart tried to swan dive out of her mouth.

Oh. God.

All it took was an instant for the pain of his rejection to come flooding back. The pain that had bloomed in the center of her body as she walked away from his hospital room roared to life now, only it was in more than one spot. It was behind her eyes, in her wrists, the pit of her stomach.

Everywhere.

He looked incredible—that was the main problem.

There was no trace of the defeated, bristling ogre she’d encountered in that hospital bed six weeks ago in Pittsburgh. None whatsoever. He accepted a key from the woman behind the desk and picked up his suitcase with no effort, the muscles of his shoulders rippling like a lake on a windy day. Had they gotten bigger? Had getting twice as jacked been part of the process for rehabbing his back?

Wow. And he had on shorts. Of course he did. They were in the tropical climate of Costa Rica, the humidity cut by a sea breeze, but still decidedly balmy. Those navy blue shorts stopped at the top of his calves and time truly slowed down as he walked through reception, the undersides of those chiseled calves flexing.

All of him, the full package, was... even better than before.

Great. Can’t wait to see him in a tux.

Tallulah remained cemented in place, hoping and praying Burgess wouldn’t spot her a few spots behind him in line, but obviously Sig couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, giving his friend a two-finger whistle, followed by a grunt. “Cap.”

Burgess turned, his blue gaze darting toward Sig, but only remaining there momentarily before it trained on Tallulah, his chest dipping and rising slowly, the hand around his suitcase handle tightening into a fist. The casual conversations taking place around her grew muffled, the glands on the side of her throat swelling. She needed to look away from him, but she couldn’t seem to stop cataloguing new and familiar things about his appearance. His beard was trimmed, closer cropped. No longer did he have the pale hockey complexion. There was actually some color in his face, as if he’d been spending time outside. Maybe in the roof garden.

The only thing about him that didn’t look good were his eyes.

They were sunken. Hollow. As though he hadn’t slept in months.

“Are you doing okay, roomie?” Chloe whispered covertly.

“I don’t know,” Tallulah answered, sounding dazed. “I didn’t expect to see him so soon. I would have preferred to shower first.”

“Shower and put on your revenge dress, you mean.”

“Exactly.”

“What is a revenge dress?” Sig asked, warily.

“It’s a dress you wear when you want someone to regret losing you.”

“Even more than he already does?” Sig waved Burgess over. “Doubt that’s possible.”

A bolt twisted in between Tallulah’s breasts at the implication that Burgess had been suffering, but she refused to acknowledge it. She’d dealt with more than her fair share of heartache for the last six weeks. She’d loved this man, gone to him and confessed it, despite her arsenal of fears. In return, he’d doused her feelings in kerosene, set them on fire, and told her to split. If he regretted his behavior now? Then good . He should.

That indignation and resolve didn’t stop her legs from shaking as Burgess got closer, his gaze never leaving her once. “Tallulah.” Her name was a rattle in his chest. “You look beautiful.”

Oh, I get it now. This is going to be the hardest three days of my life.

It hurt to speak, so she gave a jerky nod. “Hi.”

Several seconds passed while his eyes ran the length of her, back up, then started at the beginning to do it all over again. And all she could do was stand there and pretend she didn’t feel safe and warm for the first time in a month and a half. Not quite whole, thanks to the chunk missing from her heart, but more... assembled. More alive.

Which was dangerous .

Letting him get to her, letting him back in even an iota, would only lead to more pain the next time he was hurt. The next time he got wounded and took it out on her.

“We’re here, too, man,” Sig snorted, finally.

Burgess shook himself and reached over Tallulah’s shoulder to shake Sig’s hand, but his attention remained on Tallulah’s face. “Sig.” His voice was hoarse. “Chloe.”

“Hi, Burgess,” sang the blonde. “It looks like rehab was successful.”

He acknowledged that with a dip of his chin. “Yeah.” He paused, as if it suddenly hurt to talk. “Surgery and rehab fixed my back. But there’s a lot left to be repaired.”

Tallulah wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting upon seeing Burgess again. Awkwardness. Mea culpa. Another round of fighting. But this... open and obvious air of regret had to be the worst possible scenario. He wanted to take back what he’d said. That much was clear. Over the last six weeks, however, she’d concluded that their breakup was about more than one sharply delivered line during a bad moment. Although, her fear of settling down with someone only to find they were hiding an ugly side had been exacerbated in the hospital. The trust she’d built in him was damaged, oh yes, but their rift went beyond that.

They were too different.

She wanted adventure. He didn’t take blind leaps.

While she danced in the kitchen, he sat out the song.

When she jumped into the pond naked, he waited on the shore.

Whatever magic they’d made together was in the past, and that’s where it would remain. She wouldn’t lie to herself and pretend the spell they’d woven had dissipated completely, but she’d spent the last forty-odd days learning to suppress it and she would continue to do so.

Surgery and rehab fixed my back. But there’s a lot left to be repaired.

“If you’re talking about our relationship, as short-lived as it was...” she said quietly, putting out her hand, terrified he would take it, that his touch would disrupt the stillness she’d worked so hard to achieve. “Why don’t we just agree to... forgive and forget.”

Slowly, Burgess’s gaze tracked down to her hand, before reestablishing the relentless eye contact that was battering her nervous system. “Forget?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t forget a fucking minute of you if I tried.”

With a sharp intake of breath, she took her hand back. “Burgess—”

“Welcome!” A man in khaki shorts and a cream-colored polo stepped into view. “I have it on good authority that you’re here for the Whitaker-Doyle wedding. My name is Carlos and I’m the head of guest services for the event. If you wouldn’t mind stepping out of the check-in line, I’d love to go over the itinerary while you’re all in one place.”

“Itinerary?” Sig echoed.

“Has my harp arrived?” Chloe asked, holding her breath.

“Ah, you’re the harpist.” Carlos smiled indulgently. “Yes, it arrived last night and we’ve placed it in storage until the morning of the ceremony.”

“Will it be safe there?” Sig asked, earning him a grateful look from Chloe.

“Yes, of course.”

While all these details were being discussed, Burgess and Tallulah continued staring at each other without so much as a blink. I couldn’t forget a fucking minute of you if I tried? What was going on here? Was he trying to... to win her back or something? In hotel reception ?

“Try harder,” Tallulah suggested sweetly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” Carlos hedged.

She poked the air in front of Burgess’s pecs. “I’m talking to this guy.”

“Thank God,” Burgess said gruffly. “That’s one battle down.”

“One? How many are there?”

“As many as it takes.”

“Should I be made aware of a small rift in the wedding party?” Carlos asked, nervously.

Chloe squared her shoulders. “They dated. Sort of.”

“It was a hell of a lot more than dating,” Burgess said without taking his attention off Tallulah.

“It hardly matters now.” Tallulah turned a smile on their host. “It’s in the past.”

“I see.” Carlos trailed off momentarily, then came back twice as enthused. “Well, I can’t wait to see how this ruins everything.” Briskly, he produced a stack of laminated schedules from the folder that had been wedged beneath his arm, handing them out. “The wedding is in two and a half days and obviously there will be rehearsals, but folks, we are in Costa Rica!” He gestured to the lush greenery surrounding the open-air lobby. “Josephine and Wells wanted to make sure to supply everyone with enough entertainment—optional, of course. You’re free to sit by the pool and drink mojitos, as well. If you would like to take advantage of the resort’s wide selection of outdoor activities, however, we’d love to send you home with some unforgettable memories.”

“Where are Wells and Josephine?” Burgess wanted to know.

Carlos launched into an explanation without a moment’s hesitation. “They are taking this time before the vow exchange to connect as a couple—”

“They’re golfing, aren’t they?” Burgess and Tallulah said, at the exact same time.

“Since sunrise,” Carlos confirmed with a sigh.

Still, intrigued, Tallulah pursed her lips. “What kind of outdoor activities are you referring to?”

“Ah, I see we have piqued your interest,” Carlos said, rubbing his hands together. “Tomorrow morning, we have sunrise zip-lining planned, followed by cliff diving. And—”

“Count me in. All of it.” Tallulah knew a lifeline when she saw one. Staying busy and active would keep her away from Burgess, too many mojitos, and access to a hotel bed. Not to mention, the activities sounded like amazing, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that she couldn’t even fathom turning down. “Where should we meet for—”

“I’m in, too,” Burgess said. “All of it.”

“You’re going t-to go zip-lining?” Tallulah sputtered. “And jump off a cliff?”

“That’s right.”

Her heart kicked into a trot, then a gallop. Something was happening here. She’d never seen him look so determined. Not even while playing hockey.

“What about your back? You just had surgery!” Tallulah sputtered.

“I had surgery almost two months ago. I’ve been rehabbing with the best physical therapists in the country since then. Day and night. My back is stronger than it has ever been.” He cocked his head. “Guess I’ll be proving it in the morning.”

Oh. Okay. This man had a plan.

And it involved her somehow, that much was obvious.

I don’t want you here. Go.

His words from the hospital came back to her, stiffening her spine.

Bolstering her resolve.

“Is anyone else game for the excursion?” Carlos asked with a wily expression.

Sig shook his head at Chloe. “Please, Chlo. You’ll give me a heart attack.”

The harpist shrugged. “Mojitos it is.”

“Two participants so far, then. Fantastic,” Carlos said, clapping his hands together and focusing on Burgess and Tallulah. “You will meet your guide here tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp.”

“Great,” Tallulah said, smile tight.

“Great,” Burgess echoed, picking up his suitcase and backing away, keeping her in his sights until he’d turned the corner onto the walkway leading to his room, apparently.

“What just happened?” Tallulah asked, still staring dazedly at the spot where he disappeared, excitement warring with foreboding in her belly.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Chloe answered.

“Is it?”

“Yup. It appears that Sir Savage is ready for a fight.” Sig ushered Chloe back into line, a smile dancing around the edges of his mouth. “And at the risk of stating the obvious, fighting is sort of what he does best, so...”

“Uh-oh, roomie,” Chloe whispered. “You might need more than one revenge dress.”

Tallulah swallowed hard. If Burgess had decided to come to Costa Rica and show her they weren’t so different after all, and he planned to prove that by thrill seeking alongside of her... she feared there might not be enough revenge dresses in the world.

Or worse still, that each and every one of them could end up on his floor.