Wrapped Up In You (A Mystic Island Christmas) Read online

  She smiled, touched by his concern. This was the man who prided himself on being cold? He'd given her a wonderful Christmas, enveloped her in lovemaking every night, and had invited her into his private, solitary world all week, and yet he was still concerned about her well-being? "I've had the best time," she said honestly. "My whole life has been expensive hotels and staff who take care of anything I need. I love painting. I love helping you in the kitchen and learning how to cook. I love everything about this week." Including you. She wanted to tell him again that she loved him, but she was afraid of breaking the spell that had been woven between them.

  His eyebrows rose up. "You mean that? You really like it here?"

  "I do." She bit her lip, then put down the brush and turned to face him, finally saying what had been weighing on her with a mounting heaviness for the last day. "The ferry comes tomorrow." Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. This would all be over tomorrow.

  Something flickered in his eyes, an emotion so fleeting that she didn't have a chance to identify it. He nodded. "I know."

  "The house isn't done." The house wasn't done? Really? That was what she was going to say about leaving tomorrow? That the house wasn't finished? What about the fact that she felt as though her heart was shattering at the idea of leaving behind the intimacy of this week with Cole, and the connection she had with the island already? What about the fact that she'd fallen madly, deeply, and hopelessly in love with him? What about the fact that she felt like leaving here would break both their hearts, not just hers, even if he refused to see it? Those were the things that mattered, the things she wanted to say…but she didn't dare express them. Cole had made it so clear that he was moving to Australia. Telling him how sad she was to leave him and the island would accomplish nothing, except making her vulnerable again.

  He glanced around, taking in the freshly painted walls, the dusted furniture, and the polished floors. "It'll be good enough, I think. You can feel the charm of the building again. It feels like it matters now. People will feel the magic of it when they come in." He ran his hand over the glistening doorframe. "The magic is back," he said softly. "Can't you feel it?"

  "I can." How could he walk away from this? She knew it mattered to him. If it didn't, he'd never be able to talk about magic and how the inn mattered. She tried again. "How are you going to keep someone from buying it who will tear it down?"

  He shrugged, his voice cool as he dropped his hand from the wall. "I decided it doesn't matter. It's just a building."

  "No!" She leapt to her feet. "You don't mean that! There's so much life and so many memories in this building! It would be horrible to have it torn down and made into impersonal condos!"

  He gave her a steady gaze, his jaw taut. "Maybe it's okay. Maybe that's what needs to happen. Rip the past from its foundation and let it float out to sea."

  "Dammit, Cole! What is wrong with you?" She tossed the paintbrush into the can, ignoring the paint that splattered over her jeans as she leapt to her feet. "For God's sake, why can't you see what's so special about this building? How can you look at it and just see the bad, when you had so much good here? Why do you have to let the shadows win?"

  His eyes glittered. "If you like it so much, why don't you buy it?"

  She stared at him in shock. "What?"

  "I said—"

  "I know what you said." Her mind began to whirl with ideas, dozens and dozens flooding her mind. Did she dare? Was she ready to really walk away from her life forever? To give up on the chance that someday her ticket to celebrity would finally be punched? She looked around at the kitchen, with its drop cloths, hand-carved table, and old buoys perched on top of the cabinets. She didn't know anything about running an inn, or being a chef, or even owning a business...but the idea made her heart flutter with excitement. She whirled around to face him. "Would you teach me?"

  He frowned. "Teach you what?"

  "How to run it? If I bought it? Could I call you if I bought it? With questions?" The moment she asked it, she suddenly realized what she'd said...calling Cole meant taking things past this week...and calling him was a sobering reminder that he would be in Australia, gone from her life. Did she really want to live here without Cole? Was he the reason she was so happy here? Or was there more?

  He blinked. "You want to buy it?" he asked slowly.

  Did she? Did she really want to? Did she want to commit her life here? "I...I..." She broke off, staring at him. "I don't know." If he would stay, if they could do it together, then it would be an absolute, without a doubt, yes. But alone? Would the island soon seem small and confining if she didn't have Cole by her side? "Would you...consider staying? If I bought it? For a while?"

  He stared at her for a long time, and he shook his head.

  "Okay, right, of course you wouldn't." She turned away to hide her disappointment.

  "Hey." Cole was suddenly beside her, his fingers on her elbow. "Willow."

  She glanced at him. "What?"

  "You need to understand something," he said, his voice low and intense. "If there were anyone or anything that could keep me here, it would be you. You make me want to breathe again. You make me want to smile, the kind of smile that's for real, not for show." He slipped his hand around hers, squeezing gently. "You make me wish that I could turn back time and keep you the first time, when I might still have been capable of loving you the way you deserved. You make me wish I had the ability to put myself out there and love again."

  Tears burned in her eyes. "You do have the ability to love, Cole. You just have to be willing to feel again. You can't have love without being willing to get hurt."

  "I wish it was that simple." He pulled her against him and kissed her, the kind of tender, intimate kiss that told her he was lying to himself that he couldn't love. He could...if he made that choice.

  But she knew he wouldn't.

  This was all he could give, one week of his life before he left. She knew her heart would break when she said good-bye to him. She'd never felt loved before, and she'd never loved someone so deeply. She felt alive, and that was why she'd come to Mystic Island. He'd given her back her life...and he was going to break her heart.

  He wrapped his arm around her and dragged her against him, pouring his emotions into the kiss—

  Her phone rang, and she tensed, surprised. Her phone hadn't rung once since she'd arrived in Maine.

  "Don't answer it," he muttered, sliding his lips over the side of her neck. "This is our last night. Let's let reality intrude tomorrow." His kiss took away any chance she had at resisting. And he was right. Tomorrow would come soon enough

  * * *

  Cole woke up to find his bed empty. The sun was just starting to break across the sky, and he swore at the sudden weight in his chest. This was it. The week was over. He'd never set foot on the island again. He knew he should be happy, but he felt like he was drowning. Because he was leaving the island, or leaving Willow? Swearing, he rolled onto his side to get up and find her, then realized she was sitting on the side of the bed, her phone in her hand.

  She was wearing one of his shirts, and her hair was tousled from a night of lovemaking. She looked achingly beautiful, and he knew he'd never see anything that would touch him more deeply than the vision of Willow sitting on his bed, with the golden rays of dawn streaking across her face. For a split second, he imagined what it would be like to wake up with her every day, to tackle the inn together, to see her smiling face bring joy to everyone she met. Would she be enough to take away the pain? Would she be able to heal him? To bring peace to the nightmares that still haunted him? What if he stayed? What if they stayed together? Could she chase away the shadows that never let him go? Could she make the inn a place of happiness again, the way it had once been?

  Then she turned to him, and he saw something in her eyes that made his heart stop. Anguish. "What happened?"

  She held up her phone. "You know that call I didn't answer last night?"

  "Yeah." He sat up. "What was it?"


  "You know the Dark Phantom trilogy that they're starting to film? Based on that fantasy series?"

  He frowned. "Yes, of course."

  "They're two weeks into filming in Ireland, and the lead actress just got carted off to rehab. She's out of the film." She met his gaze. "They're desperate to find someone who has no other commitments for the next year and a half of filming, they're way over budget, and they need someone who doesn't cost much, but who carries enough clout in Hollywood to get fans." She held out her hands in a shrug. "Guess who?"

  He stared at her, processing her words as the image of the two of them running the inn faded away. "You got it?" He wanted to be thrilled for her, but he had the sense of something precious slipping away, just out of his reach. He wanted to lunge for her, grab her, and find a way to keep the world at bay, but instead, he just sat there, struggling to find the equilibrium that had suddenly abandoned him.

  "Yeah. They're sending a helicopter in an hour. Apparently, they can land on the dock."

  "Yes, it's where life-flight comes when they need to take someone to the mainland." He frowned, struggling to process the situation. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked anguished. "You're not happy? Isn't that what you've wanted your whole life? This is your break. They're already talking about all the major awards for this movie."

  "Yes." She sighed. "But last night, after we made love the second time. I was lying awake in your arms, listening to the creaks of the house, and I knew I didn't want to leave. I made the decision to buy the inn. I know you won't stay, and that made it harder because it's you that makes me so happy, but when I thought about it, I knew this was right for me."

  Something inside him turned over, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. "You're going to stay? And buy the inn?"

  "I was." She held up her phone. "But then this happened. How do I turn this down? How do I walk away from a chance for the career I've always wanted?"

  It took him a full minute to pull his shit together and formulate an answer. He wanted to tell her not to take it. He wanted to tell her to turn it down, and stay on the island with him, and run the inn...except he couldn't make that offer. He couldn't stay there anymore than she could, and he sure as hell couldn't drag her into a forever with a cold, uncaring bastard when she could have her dreams instead. "You don't turn it down." Hell, the words actually hurt his throat as he said them. "You'd never forgive yourself." He leaned forward, and took her hands in his. They were cold and trembling, and her eyes were wide with fear. Her apprehension seemed to settle his own anguish, chased away by his need to be her foundation, the rock she didn't have in her life. "This is your chance to show the world how amazing you are in your own right. You'll nail it, and you'll change the world. There's no way you can pass it up. You'll regret it forever."

  She searched his face. "Just like you regretted it forever when you let the inn keep you from going out on that boat?"

  "Forever is a long time to regret something," he said, not directly answering the question. He let out his breath and ran his hand through her hair. "You deserve this, Willow. You've found your place. Go out and show the world who you are. You can do it."

  She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I love you," she whispered. "I would have stayed here with you and run the inn. I would still choose you if you'd ask." She searched his face, looking for the answers that he wanted to give her so desperately.

  I would have stayed here, too. The words burned in his mind, but he didn't say them. It was too late. He wouldn't be the reason she gave up on her dream. So, instead, he simply shook his head. "I wouldn't have stayed," he lied.

  Her face fell, and something inside his gut twisted. Shit. He couldn't let her go without the truth...or at least part of it. She deserved it. "But I was wrong earlier," he said. "When I said I couldn't love you." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Willow Morgan, with every bit of my scarred and twisted heart, I love you."

  Tears filled her eyes. "Cole—"

  He didn't let her finish, instead bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "When you get on that helicopter, I want you to remember that you're loved the way you deserve. Hold that with you no matter what happens, and know that I believe in you, no matter how hard it gets. Got it?"

  She searched his face. "You love me?"

  "Yeah. I do. It's not much, but it's all I have." He kissed her again, drinking in the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his, her familiar scent. Too fucking bad for him that he'd found her now, that it had taken this long for him to finally figure out that what he really wanted was a lifetime with her. He'd never stand in her way. He'd never let her live a lifetime of regret the way he had.

  And the way she kissed him back told him that she also knew that what they had would never be found again.

  Chapter 12

  WILLOW PRESSED HER fingers to the window of the helicopter, watching Cole as he stood in the midst of the small crowd that had come out to see what the helicopter was all about. Rosie was standing beside him, but Willow could look only at Cole. His hair was whipping from the helicopter, and his hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his overcoat. He was dressed for work, not for the inn, and he looked every bit the executive who was hopping on the ferry in an hour to go run his business. He didn't look like the man in jeans that he'd become during the week. He looked like the man she'd met on the ferry a week ago, and that made her heart break.

  "Why didn't you ask me to stay?" she whispered, leaning her forehead against the window. But she knew the answer. He loved her, but he couldn't stay. Could she have stayed without him? Would she really have bought the inn and given up her life?

  She'd never know now.

  It was over.

  The helicopter lifted off the dock, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched him get smaller and smaller, until she couldn't see him anymore. So, instead, she watched the inn as they flew away, until that, too, disappeared from sight.

  Her hands were shaking as she leaned back in her seat and the enormity of what she was facing finally hit her. She was going to anchor the franchise that the entire industry had been anticipating ever since the movie deal had been announced. Could she really do it? Before this week, she wouldn't have believed it, but Cole had changed her. The people of Mystic Island had changed her. They believed in her because of who she was, not because of her family. Cole's love had showed her that she was worthy, amazing, and capable. Cole had taught her to love herself, exactly as she was, and that was an incredible gift.

  She'd said she'd come to the island to feel alive again, and not for love. She'd gotten what she'd wanted, and the island had let her go. Until the last minute when the island had disappeared from sight, she'd been half-expecting something to happen that would keep her from leaving, the way it had in the legends. But no storm had arisen. The helicopter had arrived, and the island had let her go…which meant that her experience was complete.

  So, why did she feel so empty?

  She slipped her fingers into the pocket of her jacket, and pulled out the tiny wreath Cole had woven for her, clutching it in her hand. "I love you, Cole," she whispered.

  The only answer was the roar of the helicopter.

  * * *

  She was gone.

  Cole stood alone on the main dock, watching the helicopter until it vanished from the horizon, a black speck that blinked out of sight. He didn't move for a long time, watching the last spot he'd seen it, as if he could will it to reappear and bring Willow back to him.

  But it didn't. The sky was blue, beautiful, and so empty he felt as if it were a gaping chasm that had stolen his soul, just like the ocean had done so long ago. Except this time, it was so much more, a raw, searing loss that made his soul feel like it was shattering into a thousand pieces. Willow had taken a piece of his heart with her, and it fucking hurt.

  He hadn't come to the island to regain his ability to feel. He hadn't come to morph into some sensitive guy who could feel every crack in
his heart. He'd come to purge himself of the albatross of his past so he could walk away and never look back. Instead, he'd come alive…and then felt pain almost as cutting as when his father had died…before he'd learned to shut it down.

  Willow had broken his shields, and he wanted them back. It fucking hurt to care, and she'd opened the wounds to his past until he felt like he couldn't breathe, he was so sunken in the pain of so much loss.

  He hadn't been able to stop his dad from dying.

  He hadn't been able to rescue Alana from the ocean.

  But he knew that he could have stopped Willow from leaving. He'd seen in her eyes that she would have stayed if he'd asked. He'd wanted to. His need to keep her had burned through every cell in his body. Losing her had ripped open all the scars that had protected him for so long. He'd wanted to stop her from leaving. He'd wanted to tell her to stay. He'd wanted to make her the kind of promises he'd never made anyone in his life. He'd wanted to keep her so badly, and he'd known in his gut that he could have kept her if he'd spoken up…but he'd had to let her go.

  He loved her too much to take away her future. The only acceptable choice had been to step back and encourage her to embrace her chance to have the dream she'd fought for her entire life, but it fucking sucked.

  "Cole."

  He stiffened at the familiar voice, the one he hadn't heard in so long, the last one he wanted to hear right now. He swore under his breath, trying to pull his emotions together and school his features into an impassive expression. It took several seconds before he'd steeled himself, and then he turned his head.

  Beside him stood Paul Rickman, his mother's second husband, the man who'd stepped into his father's role without a second of hesitation, the man who had once been the best friend of Cole's dad. Paul's hair was gray now, thinning, but his shoulders were erect and strong. His heavy jacket was zipped all the way up, and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets. He looked old now, old and worn. Cole hadn't spoken to him at his mother's funeral, keeping to himself, and letting Paul direct the services. But there was no way to avoid him now. He inclined his chin in acknowledgement. "Paul."