behind her has she headed
home. Why couldn’t it just all work out the way she
planned it to? Was she really wrong about her approach?
CHAPTER SIX
Carissa could hear Thomas moving about his room
when she opened the front door. Light gleamed under his
bedroom door, but as she climbed up the steps, it blinked
out. Deliberately, she supposed.
Well, she couldn’t blame him. They’d asked him to
move to Kansas City, give up everything else in his life,
and then she wouldn’t even listen to him when he offered
suggestions. They were good suggestions too. She’d been a
fool. Now she cursed herself.
She stood outside his door and thought about
knocking, but she refrained. They would talk in the
morning when they’d both calmed down. She would hear
him out. Theory was a good idea and it was of course
included in everything she taught, but she’d never thought
of teaching it exclusively as a class. He’d obviously given
it a lot of thought and he was the true professional when
she thought about it.
Carissa walked to her room and shut the door.
Thomas leaned his head against the door as he heard
hers close. He’d almost flung it open and given her a piece
of his mind. Oh, she was stubborn. Then he let out a laugh.
Sophia might not have been her biological mother, but they
sure as hell made quite a match.
The thought washed over him. Stubborn, that might
have been too mild for Sophia. What went beyond
stubborn? After all, she’d left the man she loved and stayed
away from ten years. Not once did she even contact him to
hear his side of the story. Well, by God, Carissa was going
to listen to his side. If she wanted him to work with her, she
was going to listen.
He pulled his shirt off, exchanged his slacks for a pair
of sweatpants, and climbed into his bed. He ran his fingers
through his hair then laced them behind his head. God, if
she was this crazy about her music education, what was
going to happen when he took her to bed?
He wanted that more now than he wanted to work side
by side with her. No, he needed to get over it. He wasn’t
the kind of man Carissa needed. She needed stability. She
needed a family man. He wasn’t that.
He took his pillow and pounded it into place. He
closed his eyes.
A smile crossed over his lips as he thought of the kiss
he and Carissa had shared earlier that morning. She walked
up to him out of the darkness and kissed him again. This
time, however, the phone didn’t ring. Nothing stopped him
from touching her, caressing her, and he started to undress
her.
The buttons on her blouse released with ease and her
skirt pooled to the ground. She moaned his name and began
to undress him.
The room went black. He was alone.
Huddled in the closet, he was no longer a man of
thirty-three, but a young man of sixteen. The same closet
had found him cowering most of his life.
He twisted, trying to break out of the closet. His face
throbbed, his head pounded and his hands . . . oh the pain in
his hands.
“Sara!” he called out, but his voice didn’t register.
“Sara!” Again and again, he cried out but there was no
sound.
He could hear her scream. He could hear his mother’s
screams. He could vividly hear his father’s shouts, his
slaps, his fists on skin, and then there was silence.
Hands were on him. He batted them away.
Carissa was out of breath. She’d run down the hall.
She’d tried to force his locked door open. Then she’d gone
through the bathroom and to his side. He was twisted in his
sheets, pushing at her, flailing his arms about . . . protecting
himself.
“Help her!”
“Thomas, help who? Wake up.” She tried to touch him
again, but he batted her touch away. “Oh, baby, wake up.”
He sat straight up in bed. His eyes flew open. She
watched as they settled from terror in his sleep to alertness.
“I’m here. I’m here.” She wanted to touch him again
but didn’t dare.
His hair was damp from sweat. He held his hands up
and looked them over.
Carissa stood.
home. Why couldn’t it just all work out the way she
planned it to? Was she really wrong about her approach?
CHAPTER SIX
Carissa could hear Thomas moving about his room
when she opened the front door. Light gleamed under his
bedroom door, but as she climbed up the steps, it blinked
out. Deliberately, she supposed.
Well, she couldn’t blame him. They’d asked him to
move to Kansas City, give up everything else in his life,
and then she wouldn’t even listen to him when he offered
suggestions. They were good suggestions too. She’d been a
fool. Now she cursed herself.
She stood outside his door and thought about
knocking, but she refrained. They would talk in the
morning when they’d both calmed down. She would hear
him out. Theory was a good idea and it was of course
included in everything she taught, but she’d never thought
of teaching it exclusively as a class. He’d obviously given
it a lot of thought and he was the true professional when
she thought about it.
Carissa walked to her room and shut the door.
Thomas leaned his head against the door as he heard
hers close. He’d almost flung it open and given her a piece
of his mind. Oh, she was stubborn. Then he let out a laugh.
Sophia might not have been her biological mother, but they
sure as hell made quite a match.
The thought washed over him. Stubborn, that might
have been too mild for Sophia. What went beyond
stubborn? After all, she’d left the man she loved and stayed
away from ten years. Not once did she even contact him to
hear his side of the story. Well, by God, Carissa was going
to listen to his side. If she wanted him to work with her, she
was going to listen.
He pulled his shirt off, exchanged his slacks for a pair
of sweatpants, and climbed into his bed. He ran his fingers
through his hair then laced them behind his head. God, if
she was this crazy about her music education, what was
going to happen when he took her to bed?
He wanted that more now than he wanted to work side
by side with her. No, he needed to get over it. He wasn’t
the kind of man Carissa needed. She needed stability. She
needed a family man. He wasn’t that.
He took his pillow and pounded it into place. He
closed his eyes.
A smile crossed over his lips as he thought of the kiss
he and Carissa had shared earlier that morning. She walked
up to him out of the darkness and kissed him again. This
time, however, the phone didn’t ring. Nothing stopped him
from touching her, caressing her, and he started to undress
her.
The buttons on her blouse released with ease and her
skirt pooled to the ground. She moaned his name and began
to undress him.
The room went black. He was alone.
Huddled in the closet, he was no longer a man of
thirty-three, but a young man of sixteen. The same closet
had found him cowering most of his life.
He twisted, trying to break out of the closet. His face
throbbed, his head pounded and his hands . . . oh the pain in
his hands.
“Sara!” he called out, but his voice didn’t register.
“Sara!” Again and again, he cried out but there was no
sound.
He could hear her scream. He could hear his mother’s
screams. He could vividly hear his father’s shouts, his
slaps, his fists on skin, and then there was silence.
Hands were on him. He batted them away.
Carissa was out of breath. She’d run down the hall.
She’d tried to force his locked door open. Then she’d gone
through the bathroom and to his side. He was twisted in his
sheets, pushing at her, flailing his arms about . . . protecting
himself.
“Help her!”
“Thomas, help who? Wake up.” She tried to touch him
again, but he batted her touch away. “Oh, baby, wake up.”
He sat straight up in bed. His eyes flew open. She
watched as they settled from terror in his sleep to alertness.
“I’m here. I’m here.” She wanted to touch him again
but didn’t dare.
His hair was damp from sweat. He held his hands up
and looked them over.
Carissa stood.
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