He halted, though. Would pounding on her door really make her more accepting of his presence? No. Diana was as stubborn as she was beautiful, which was one of the more appealing things about her.
Instead of knocking, David tapped—once. Twice. And waited. He pressed his ear to the door.
Sobbing.
Diana was crying. Because of him.
Swallowing the lump of regret and guilt in his throat, he called, “Diana.”
The sobbing stopped, and he pressed ahead.
“Diana, darling…” He heard a gasp at the endearment. “I am not leaving until you open the door and let me talk to you.”
“Go away, David. There isn’t anything you can say to me that will erase what you’ve already said,” she called back, her voice muffled through he door.
“Please, Diana. Let me explain—”
“Explain what? Why you’re such an asshole? Why you treat innocent women like gold-plated whores?” Her scathing remarks served to twist the screw of guilt already embedded in his chest.
The simplest answer was always the best. “Yes.”
Silence greeted him, then there was a shuffling as she drew closer to the door. Her voice was louder this time. “What do you want David?”
He pressed his forehead against the door, wanting to be as close to her as he could even through the polished wood.
“I want to apologize. I want to explain why I am so…”
“Cold. Heartless. Mean,” Diana supplied.
Though each word was like a knife to his heart, he couldn’t help but chuckle at her sassiness.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” he answered, pushing away from the door to stare at it. What he wouldn’t pay for x-ray vision just then. Was she scowling at him? Sneering? Was there even a hint of hope or regret on her face?
“Please, Diana. I need to make this right,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. His chest cracking open to present his shriveled, black heart.
He waited, minutes ticking by as the tense silence continued. Finally, the door lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a goddess in sweat pants. Her eyes were rimmed in red and puffy, her face was pale, and her lips were pressed together between her teeth. No doubt she was biting back what she really wanted to tell him. Perhaps “fuck you” or “suck a dick” or—worse— “I never want to see you again.” His gut roiled, pushing bile into his chest.
Determined to change her mind, he rasped, “Rinna…twisted me. Then she shattered me. But that isn’t where this fucked-up tale begins,” he said, cringing.
“David?” Seemingly against her better judgement, Diana took a step closer to him, hesitating when she came within arm’s reach.
Sighing, David rubbed his neck. “Let us go sit on the couch, yeah? I think I’ll need some physical support to keep from falling at your feet.”
Diana snorted but followed him anyway, flopping down on one end of the couch. He sat slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.
She tilted her head, watching him in return. Her expression was tight with wariness, her lips pressed into a thin line and the corners of her eyes pinched.
Just get it over with.
“My accident…” he blurted, his mouth running ahead of his thoughts.
She nodded once, her expression unchanged. “What happened?”
“It was a trail ride in the Sierra Nevadas. An old college chum invited me out to ride the back trails of Tahoe with him. I was young, loved the high of the adrenaline rush, so I jumped at the chance. We left early that morning, heading into the hills, and it was going so well in the beginning. But…then the fog began to roll in off the lake. It made seeing the ground obstacles difficult. Martin suggested we turn back but… I was so determined to get that rush that I pushed on, ignoring his warnings. I was an arrogant ass, even then.”
Diana snickered but then sobered quickly, her gaze trained on him.
“Go on,” she coaxed, her voice like warm honey, a balm to a tattered soul. He didn’t know if she noticed, but she’d slid closer to him. He needed her closer still.
He sighed, leaning into her warmth, letting her very presence settle into his chest.
“I couldn’t see it…a tree root extending out into the path. The front wheel hit it, I slammed forward into the stem of the handle bar and then flew over the handle bars. I don’t remember much after that except the pain. The excruciating pain. It was like someone had ripped by balls from my body, dipped them in acid, and then nailed them back in place.”
Diana gasped, her face ashen.
“Oh my God, David. I can’t even imagine.” She reached out, cupping his face. Her thumb slowly sliding over this cheek. Again, he leaned into her, her touch both electrifying and calming.
“I woke up in the hospital in Sacramento. They’d had to go in and repair some of the damage to my…err…reproductive organs. It wasn’t until I spoke with the urologist, Dr. Branchard, that I realized what my accident meant. He told me that with damage like that, my fathering children would be nigh on impossible.”
A shudder shook him, making a heavy sigh explode from his chest.
“I died a thousand times that day,” he whispered, his throat too constricted in the memory to put any force behind his words.
“David?” Diana tipped his face, making eye contact and holding it. There was sympathy and pain in her emerald depths. No pity, though.
“All throughout my life, from the time I was a lad, through university, and even into my new adult years, there was one thing I wanted more than anything…”
“Children,” Diana breathed, her voice tremulous. There was a stark sadness in her eyes, one that his soul recognized.
“My own parents were somewhat…off-beat, but they were amazing. They showed me that being a mother or father had its own rewards—even though there were some fears and troubles. I wasn’t always the best-behaved Brenner, but even when I buggered things
