Free The Homecoming by Anne Marie Winston Page A

confessed before he could stop himself. “I was defiant, physically aggressive and getting completely out of control before I left.”
    â€œWere you always like that? Because you certainly aren’t now.”
    He shook his head.
    â€œSo what hap— Oh.”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Oh.”
    â€œHow about counseling?” she suggested, her brows drawing together. “Did anyone ever offer you mental health help after your little friend was abducted?”
    He uttered a short, harsh bark of amusement. “Yeah. That was right at the top of my mother’s list, along with hugging her kids and doing volunteer work.” His voice was loaded with sarcasm.
    Sydney froze. He imagined she couldn’t even conceive of a childhood as chaotic and frightening and lonely as his had been. Then she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I’m so sorry, Danny. No child should ever have to endure all the things you did. It’s a wonder you’re still sane.”
    He almost told her sane was a relative state of mind. “I got past it,” he said grimly.
    â€œAnd then you lost your family.” Were those tears pooling in her eyes? “How could you stand it?”
    â€œI’ve learned to live with it,” he said through his teeth. He really did not want to talk about this anymore.
    â€œIt’s no wonder you’ve buried yourself in this quiet paradise.”
    â€œIt’s not a paradise,” he said harshly, shoving back his chair and slamming away from the table. He shot her a look of bitterness, furious that she’d forced him to think about the royal screwup that was his whole life. “Don’t you get it? It’s a hideout.”

Five
    I t’s a hideout.
    There was a ringing silence in the wake of his explosion.
    Danny stood with his back to Sydney, looking out over the low balustrade around the edge of the lanai. Beyond him, across the ocean, rose the cloud-shrouded peaks of Kauai. God, he wished he could just disappear into that thick mist. He felt as if one more word would shatter him like a plate of glass.
    Sydney didn’t say another word. But after a moment he heard her chair scrape back and her dainty footsteps cross the terrace to his side.
    And then he went rigid with shock when her slimarms slipped around his waist and she pressed herself to his back.
    Holy heaven, but she felt good. Her breasts and thighs were soft against him, reminding him of how very long it had been since he’d known a woman’s touch. Then he realized she was crying. Crying for him. And somehow it wasn’t a turnoff but made him want her even more. More than the damn-near-constant wanting he’d known since she first opened those big blue eyes and blinked at him.
    â€œI’m so sorry that I dredged all that up,” she said, her voice breaking. “I only wanted to understand you a little better.”
    Hell. How could he stay mad after that? Her tears were soaking the back of his combed-cotton shirt and he could feel her body shaking with silent sobs.
    â€œHey,” he said. With some difficulty he turned in the circle of her clinging arms, and now, sweet Lord, she was pressed against him from neck to knee, and her body flowed over the hard contours of his as if she’d been made to fit there exactly so. “It’s all right.” He put his own arms around her cautiously, overwhelmed by sensation and groping for the right words. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have been so touchy.”
    â€œYes, you should have.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “You’ve had some perfectly awful things happen in your life and I had to remind you of every single one of them.”
    â€œSydney.” He pried her away just enough to loosen her grip and place a finger beneath her chin, tippingher face up and forcing her to look at him. “It’s okay. It’s not like I ever