The Missing

him. The first one he’d loved. The only one he’d loved.

    “Cullen?”

    He blinked and realized she’d asked him about Jillian. And was still waiting for an answer. “With my dad.”

    “How is she doing?”

    Shrugging restlessly, he leaned back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “She has good days. Some not so good. Nights are hard on her. She doesn’t want to be left alone.” He grimaced and added, “Hard on me, too, because I have a hard time leaving her alone.”

    At that, Taige lifted a brow. Her mouth, soft and kissable, bowed upward in a gentle smile. “Then why are you here? You need to be home with her. She needs you right now.”

    Cullen pushed his plate out of the way and then leaned forward, reached out, and caught her hand. He laced their fingers and said, “I’ll be honest; a huge part of me needs just that. But . . . she needs to feel safe more. There’s only one thing I can do to give her that.”

    “Ahhhh.” Understanding came into her eyes, and she squeezed his hand, gently, and then pulled back. She didn’t like him touching her. It was almost impossible to miss that. She’d hesitated before putting her hand in his earlier. As soon as she could, she’d pulled away, and now she was doing it again, all the while giving him a false, bright smile. The smile faded from her face, and she said, “You need to understand that nothing you can do is going to help her nightmares. Nothing you do can undo what happened. Even if he’d been there that day, and you killed him then, she’d still have a hard time. The only thing that works is time.”

    “Putting that degree in psychology to good use, aren’t you?” he asked grimly.

    Now both brows arched. “How did you know about that?”

    Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Cullen said, “There’s nothing you’ve done in the past twelve years that I don’t know about. If it’s public knowledge, I found out about it. What wasn’t public, I learned through all those dreams.” He paused and then softly added, “You trust me more in those dreams than you do now.”

    Taige shook her head. “It doesn’t have anything to do with trust. I do trust you.”

    “As far as you trust anybody?” he said ruefully.

    “More than I trust anybody,” she corrected. With a scowl, she demanded, “What in the hell do you care what I’ve been up to the past twelve years?”

    The look on his face did bad, bad things to her insides, Taige decided. There was a lambent, lazy look in his eyes, and her skin heated under the warmth of his gaze. She knew that if they were someplace private, he’d probably be trying to do more than look. There were twelve years between them, but those years might as well not have existed, thanks to the dreams that had kept them connected. She knew him better now than she had when they had been together, knew when he was mad, when he worried—when he wanted.

    And now he wanted—oh man, did he want. She hadn’t ever had a man look at her quite the same way Cullen did. His lids drooped low over his eyes, and he murmured, “You know why I care, Taige. You might not let yourself see it, but you do know.”

    Averting her eyes, she asked quietly, “Why are you here, Cullen? Exactly what do you want from me now?” I found your daughter. I gave you my heart, my soul, my body. I don’t have too much left to give you .

    She kept that latter part quiet, although she suspected he already knew most of that, just like she knew that if he asked, she’d probably give herself up to him all over again.

    “Your help.”

    “Help with what?”

    Bracing his elbows on the table, Cullen leaned forward. His blue green eyes pinned her in place, and she couldn’t have looked away from him if she had to.

    Softly, he said, “Finding him.”

    CULLEN stood on the step just behind Taige as she unlocked the door. She’d left her hair down, and he wanted to lean forward and bury his face in it, feel the soft, wild curls and just breathe her in.

    Instead, he tucked his hands in his pockets, and when she finally opened the door, he held back until she gave him an impatient look and demanded, “Are you coming inside or what?”

    He took the two stairs at once and ended up standing so close, he could hear the soft, shaky sound of her breathing. “What are the other choices?” he asked before he could stop himself.

    “Huh?”

    “Coming inside . . . or what? What does the ‘or what’ entail?”

    She