*****
She stopped at a café to grab a late lunch and check her messages. Most were alerts about the afternoon appointments. She had two texts from Debbie: Call made. They took rept on phone, want u to call.
As she suspected, the cops had bigger things to worry about than Tyler O’Keefe.
The next text made Honor feel very tired. First, Judith here. Says she’ll wait.
Judith Jones. Honor was beginning to feel like she had two stalkers. If Judith had any money, Honor might think it could have been her leaving flowers at her door. But she actually felt responsible, at least partly, for Judith. The girl was having a lot of trouble finding her way alone in a world she’d never known, and Honor was the only person in that world she trusted. Though she was now surrounded by people who wanted to help her figure out a life for herself, she seemed incapable, or at least was wholly unwilling, to extend her skimpy trust to anyone else.
Seeing quickly that distancing herself would be impossible, and was irresponsible anyway, Honor had agreed to take Judith out once a week. They had dinner and went to a movie, or shopping, or something like that. They’d even done a couple classes together at the JUMP.
Those evenings were exhausting for Honor. Judith didn’t know how to be a good conversationalist, or how to simply be polite. She had no interests that she’d yet discovered, and nothing Honor had shown her—besides clothes and food—had sparked for her. Mostly, she was loudly bored. It was like having a date with a five-foot-tall three-year-old.
Even so, those weekly evenings were the only time of each week that Judith was interested in. She still didn’t have a job, and she’d missed the deadline to apply for a summer GED course. All she did during the week was sit in her room at the shelter. She flouted the rules routinely, often refusing to work, or eat with the residents, or attend group sessions. Honor had been using all the skill she had to keep the director from throwing her out. That Judith was there at all was due to a favor the director owed her; Honor had successfully defended her brother against a felony drug charge.
She’d taken Judith out for pizza and shopping only three nights ago. They’d had their usual talk, where Honor explained the importance of getting along with people and why it wasn’t a prison to have responsibilities, and Judith insisted that she needed more time.
Never before had Judith come to the new office; Honor would have said she didn’t know where it was, or how to get there. On the plus side, she’d apparently finally figured out how to do an online search and use the bus; maybe she was finally ready to start making a life. On the minus side, Judith was sitting at the office, and Honor had already had a crappy day.
All ok? she texted Debbie.
Yeah. I gave her my People mag. She’s fascinated.
On my way, Honor replied and prepared herself to be patient with the damaged girl she’d freed.
*****
Judith jumped up when Honor came through the door. “Honor, hey!”
“Hi, Judith. Is everything okay?” The girl looked fine. She was dressed in a flippy denim skirt and a sleeveless floral top, with a cute pair of flat sandals—all courtesy of Honor’s Visa—and her hair was up in a ponytail. Except for the scars on her arms and peeking out from under the skirt, she looked like a schoolgirl having a nice summer day.
“Sure,” she grinned, but Honor saw a shadow under it. “I just missed ya is all.”
“We just had dinner on Monday.” Honor smiled and took the stack of mail Debbie held out to her, exchanging it with the sack from the café, with a blueberry muffin for Debbie. “That’s time to miss me already?”
“Ain’t it time to miss me?” The grin was gone, and the shadow was darker. Debbie picked up on the change, too; she turned and watched Judith.
It was time to draw a boundary with this girl, or Honor’s whole life would get swallowed up. She wasn’t helping her; she was enabling her.
“My next still at two-thirty?”
“Yep. Twenty minutes.”
“Come on back, Judith.”
“I go by Judi now. With an i. I decided.” She eyed the café sack Debbie had sat on her desk. “What’s in the bag?”
“I brought something back for Debbie.”
“Nothin’ for me?”
“No. I wasn’t expecting you. Come on, let’s talk.”
In her office, Honor sat at her desk while Judith plopped in a chair before it. “You’re mad at me.” She caught her ponytail and stuck a piece in her mouth to gnaw on the ends.
“Not mad. But I’m busy, I’m working, and I wasn’t expecting you. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. It’s not that you missed me already.”
“It is. You’re the only one who’s nice to me.”
Not the first time that claim had been made, and it always came down to the same innocent ‘unkindnesses’—like making her get up at a decent hour of the morning, giving her chores, asking her to follow up on job leads the shelter provided. Still, Honor’s legal instincts kept her from denying the truth of Judith’s assertion, in the slim chance that something bad had actually happened. “What are people doing that seem not-nice to you?”
“Marguerite says if I don’t got a job by next Friday, I gotta do part-time hours there cleaning up, or I gotta go. But there ain’t no jobs. Puttin’ me on the street is mean.”
As of Monday, she’d never applied for one. They’d had a discussion about that over pizza. “What jobs have you been turned down for since Monday?”
Judith wasn’t stupid; she got the subtext, and instead of voicing the answer they both knew was true—none, because she still hadn’t applied to any—she crossed her arms and sulked.
“I don’t understand, Judith.”
“I told you, I’m Judi now.”
“I’m sorry. Judi. It sounds like Marguerite is offering you a job. She’s giving you a way to stay even if you can’t find a job on your own. That doesn’t sound mean to me.”
“It sounds mean to me. I don’t want to clean up other people’s messes. I did that my whole life.”
“You’re an adult, Judi. Part of being an adult is having a job. That’s how you get money to have things you want. Like an apartment of your own, so you don’t have to share a room or clean up after anyone but yourself. If you’re not ready to go out and find a job, you should think hard about taking Marguerite’s offer, so you can have a place to stay.”
Judi slouched in the chair, chewing on the ends of her ponytail, until an idea made her sit up. “Could I work here? I could help Debbie out. I’d like it to work here.”
Dear God. Honor’s stomach flipped at the mere thought. “No, Judi. I’m sorry, but you can’t. This is a small office, and Debbie’s the only help I need—or can afford.”
“Why won’t you help me?”
Maybe it was the stress of the day she’d already had, with Tyler’s latest ‘romantic’ gesture, and having to sit in a room at Bellamy White and endure a respondent’s smug sneers, and probably it was weariness at the relentlessness of Judith Jones’ presence in her life, but at her whiny complaint, Honor literally had to sit on her hands to keep herself still and visibly calm. Luckily, her years of study and work had given her a lot of experience in external calm in the face of chaos.
“I do help you, Judi,” she said with placid ease. “I’ve been helping you. I am helping you. Right now, by telling you to take Marguerite’s offer, that’s me helping you. It’s time to stand on your own. Use the resources of the shelter to ease your way.” A thought occurred to her, and she played it out quickly and decided it was good. “You know what? I think we should stop our weekly dinners until you’ve got things settled with a job, okay? You need to focus on getting your needs met.”
Judi’s face sagged into a frown so deep it was practically caricature. “I thought you liked me.”
Honor felt that rise of guilt that made her want to take care of this girl who’d had such a terrible childhood, who had no idea about the world. But enabling her to live in h
er fear and resistance was not helping her. “I do, honey. But doing everything for you is not helping. Getting you on your feet and into your own life is helping. You need to start taking care of yourself and doing the things you need to do to make that happen. Like getting a job. Focus on that for now, and when you get one, I’ll take you out to celebrate.”
That caricature of a frown froze solid. She got up, slung her little handbag onto her shoulder, and stalked to the door.
Honor clenched her teeth against the offer to call the girl a cab. She let her go, and find her own way.
She was doing the right thing. Right?
*****
“I’m not leaving until you do, and Jed needs a ride home from practice tonight. In effect, you’re leaving my child to sit alone on a rock by a parking lot.”
Honor looked up from her legal pad. “You can go, Debbie. I’ll be just a few minutes.” She pointed with her silver pen at the doorway, where the sunset cast a ruddy glow. “It’s not dark yet. I’ll be fine.”
“I am not leaving until you do. You have a stalker.”
“Yes, but he did his thing this morning. He’ll leave me alone for a few days.”
“And if he doesn’t? If you walk outside by yourself and he’s leaning on your car, waiting for you? Come on, you’re making me late for my son. You can obsess about work at home.”
“Fine.” Honor closed her pen and set her briefcase on the desk. “You know, I didn’t know I was hiring a nanny as well as a paralegal.” She said it with a light heart; she was honored to have Debbie with her here, as a colleague and a friend. They’d worked together a long time at Bellamy White. Her mother-hen-iness was nothing new.
Debbie smiled back and headed for the door. “Top-shelf legal insight and keen maternal instincts. I’m the whole package.”
Honor had barely had a chance to slide her laptop into her case when Debbie called out, “Honor, you need to come here.”
Curious more than worried—she hadn’t picked up tension in Debbie’s tone, and if there was real trouble, she would have run back, not called Honor forward—she went to the door. “Something wr—”
Her mouth stopped dead when she saw why Debbie had called her up.
Logan Cahill stood on the sidewalk, right outside their locked door. The sunset lit him up like a sacred idol, painting his edges with gold shimmer. With his hair and beard, he looked like cowboy Jesus.
“That’s Logan Cahill,” Debbie said, as if Honor didn’t know.
“Yes, it is.”
“Are you expecting him?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think his brother’s in trouble again?” Debbie had been part of her team when she’d defended Heath Cahill.
“I don’t know. I doubt it.” No, she didn’t think this was about Heath. She and Logan had some scant history that didn’t have anything to do with his brother, and Heath was out of people he could be framed for murdering.
She hadn’t seen Logan in a month, since that night she’d embarrassed herself beyond redemption and behaved like a wilting gardenia. Jesus, she’d guilted him into spending the night. And he’d done it.
And then he’d run the next morning with his tail between his legs.
Frankly, Logan Cahill wasn’t all that much farther up on the list of people she was happy to see than Tyler or Judith were. He’d developed a habit of making her want him, making her think he wanted her, too, and then casting her aside.
He also seemed to be making a habit of popping up when and where she wasn’t expecting. What the hell was he doing here? Here? Well, whatever it was, she didn’t need a witness to it.
“Should I let him in?”
“Yes, we should let him in. Pretty sure he’s not stalking me. But you should go. I’ll leave when he does, and you can be sure I’m safe.” Honor, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how safe she’d actually be. Her body, sure. But her heart?
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive, Debbie. Get thee to thy child.” She went to the door, disarmed the alarm, and let the man in herself.
“Hey, counselor,” he drawled, and a smile that struck a fragile balance between shy and smug sloped up the side of his face.
“Hello.” Honor held the door open and sent her assistant a look that demanded she leave.
She did. “Mr. Cahill,” Debbie muttered as she changed places with Logan, her going out and him coming in.
“Ma’am,” he said. His tone suggested he remembered that he should remember Debbie, but did not.
Honor closed the door. Through the glass, she watched Debbie get into her car. They exchanged a quick glance before Debbie started the engine and finally pulled away.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked as she turned to face Logan.
He was obviously shocked at the edge in her voice. She was a little shocked herself. But he stood there, looking perfect, his hair a little bit windblown and that expectant smile fading from his face. He wore faded jeans and hard-worked brown cowboy boots, and a plain black button-up shirt open just enough to show the pendant at the base of his throat. If she didn’t have an edge, she’d collapse completely.
She pulled up all of her armor, every guard and spike she’d built over years in a cutthroat career, and wrapped herself up tight. She was not going to falter with this asshole again. No matter how good looking he was, how tall and broad, how deep and smooth his voice was, how enticing that small smile of his was, she had had about enough of his bullshit. This whole ‘I like you as long as you don’t like me back’ game had been crap back in middle school, and she was not going to play it now. Not anymore. No. Absolutely not.
In the space of that second, his complexion paled, went red, and reclaimed its true color. “I …”
“You can’t even answer that question.” She grabbed the door and yanked it open again. “Get the fuck out, Logan. Get out.”
His expression drew tight, his mouth becoming a thin slash inside his beard, and he went toward her. She expected him to storm out the door, but instead, he grabbed the metal frame and pushed hard until it slammed closed.
Honor hadn’t let go, so the force jerked her as well, and she stumbled on her pumps and almost fell against the door—but his hands were there, holding her without violence, keeping her on her feet.
“Sorry,” he said when she was steady. He let her go, but he stayed close, close enough that she felt the warmth of the summer afternoon still emanating from his skin. Staring down at her, his eyes flashing, he murmured, “I don’t want to go.”
The night in her apartment spun around her head, full of knives and other sharp things. Before she did something stupid, she stepped back, out of the reach of the electric draw of him.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, forcing her tone to be more polite.
“I came to ask you that question. You should be at Bellamy White. What happened? Why are you here?”
“How is that any of your business? What gives you the right to even ask?”
He shrugged. “I was worried.”
The laugh burst from Honor’s chest before she’d decided whether that statement was hilarious or infuriating or just painfully sad. Actually, it was all of them. “I’d have let you be worried a month ago. Or six months ago. I’d have given you the right. You didn’t want it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Now it was her turn to shrug.
Logan stepped close again. He reached out and picked up a curl of her hair from her chest. “What would you say if I told you I think I want it now?”
Honor hated the fluttering thrill that went through her chest.
Think. I think I want it now, he’d said. Think. Even after all the bullshit he’d already perpetrated, still he couldn’t manage more than think.
This man was the absolute worst. He knew how she felt. And he toyed with her again and again, trying to keep her on the hook. What kind of man needed to treat a woman like this? What did it feed in his black soul?
&nbs
p; She took her hair out of his hand. “I would say that you had your chance and blew it.” The words hurt to say. Because she did still want him. What kind of woman did that make her? Weak. Pathetic. Infuriating.
This was what Logan Cahill did to her: reduced her to all the things she hated about herself. He snuffed out all the things she was proud of in herself and left her with nothing but weakness.
He hadn’t expected her to answer as she had, and that, the arrogance of believing she’d still be waiting for him, like a dog waiting for her master, sealed the deal.
She went back to the door and pulled it open again. “You need to go, Logan. Now.”
This time, when he came to her, he didn’t take the door. “I’m sorry, Honor. I really am. I’m not good at this. I don’t know what to do with the way I feel. I think I really fucked up.”
Think. “You did.”
Logan hesitated another couple of seconds, staring down at her with his stormy eyes, waiting for her to change her mind. And she almost did. She still wanted him. Now she had the memory of his arms keeping her safe, giving her comfort, through a whole night when she’d needed safety and comfort. She had that kiss, moments of unreserved desire, and she could feel all of that again as if his lips and arms had just now left her.
There was a good man in there, under all that smugness and cowardice. She’d seen it in the way he was with the people he loved. She’d seen it that night. She’d felt it.
And then he’d told her he didn’t want her, and he’d walked away.
She let him walk away now. Closing the door, she stood and watched through the glass as he climbed into his big black truck. She didn’t look away until he was out of the parking lot and far enough down the road to be out of sight.
Then she went back to her office and packed up her work. She wanted to be on her way home before the sun finished setting. For all her bluster at Debbie, being alone here after dark scared her.
Tonight, Honor felt especially alone.
Someday (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 2) Page 12