by Em Petrova
Understatement of the year. Everyone had a closet jam-packed full of junk they didn’t know how to process, but this was a whole lot more. Bookcases lined one wall but were piled with so much stuff, that you couldn’t make out the wood anymore. And it seemed to have become a walk-in closet as well, with clothes half off hangers or lying on top of boxes.
“Wow.” Atalee shook her head. If ever there was a distraction for her right now, it was this.
Her mother touched her arm as she passed on the way to get water. “We’ll drink and talk and sort things into boxes.”
“It’s going to take a couple weeks.”
Her mother chuckled and left Atalee alone to look around. Was this what happened to your parents when left to their own devices? She fumbled through some packaged makeup, wondering what her mother was doing with so much of it, then dropped it back into the box as her mother entered the space again.
“Where do we start?” Atalee sipped her water. After stupidly running in the heat of the day, she still felt half dehydrated.
“I guess…” Her mother glanced from box to shelf to closet with clothes dragging on the floor. “Um. This is why I haven’t done anything about this room. I don’t know where to start.”
“I think if we get the clothes sorted and off the boxes, we’ll be able to see things better.”
Her momma nodded and set aside her water. They got to work, with Atalee holding up a garment and her mom shaking her head yes or no. The yes pile went back onto hangers and the no was packed away in bags to go to charity.
“Maybe I’ll just put those in the garage in case there’s something I might want later,” her mother said.
“Oh no. That’s how you got into this situation in the first place. I’ll take the bags with me when I leave and drop them off myself.” An hour had passed, and the room still appeared to be untouched.
“Should we get some takeout?” Momma asked.
She still felt knotted up after seeing Shaw, and food hadn’t entered her mind, though it was well after dinnertime. “That sounds good. Chinese? I’ll order.”
“You know what I like.”
Atalee took out her phone and placed the order to the local delivery joint a few blocks away. When she finished, she found her mother staring at her. Oh no. Here it comes.
“Was it Johnny?”
The question jolted Atalee. Her ex couldn’t be further from her mind. “No. I haven’t heard from him in months. I got the divorce decree in the mail the other day.”
“Oh. How are you feeling about that?” Her mother’s eyes, sea-green like her own, gave off an empathy that had Atalee tasting the salt of tears. She pushed them back and grabbed an empty box just to busy her hands.
“I’m fine with it. It was over long before that paper was printed.”
“I know my girl and something’s troubling you.”
She bit into her lip and picked up an old Easter basket overflowing with makeup, new and used both. When she popped the cap of a lipstick, she found it worn down to the metal nub. “Mom! There’s nothing left of this! Why on earth didn’t you throw it away?”
“I might want to buy that color again, and I’d never be able to find it. This way I can just look on the bottom of the tube.”
Atalee shook her head in amazement. “You realize they’re going to carry you off to the nuthouse for this, right?”
They shared a laugh. The next few minutes were spent opening lipstick tubes and tossing them out or saving them in the empty box for later consideration. By then the food had arrived. They went onto the patio out back to share their meal. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and it was cool on the shaded patio.
“So if it isn’t Johnny, what is it? The new job?” her mother probed her as she picked up a dumpling with her chopsticks.
She lifted a shoulder and let it fall, mouth full of broccoli. “The job is good. I’m still getting a read on how things work, but I like what I do and the people I work with are fabulous.”
“Important.” Her mother had retired from her long-time position as a pharmacist, with enough money banked to travel the world for the rest of her life. Atalee hoped someday she could be as smart as her mother had been and see the world. But alone? The idea didn’t appeal—she would prefer to visit places with someone she enjoyed being with.
Someone she loved.
Shaw.
The name rose in her mind like the moon would soon, hanging over her and chasing away some shadows but bringing others to her existence. Shaw was a confusing entity, no doubt about it.
“So who is he?”
Her mother’s question startled her so much she nearly choked. Was she that transparent? Atalee gave her mom a nervous smile. While they’d always been close, she also didn’t like to air her problems, and right now, Shaw wasn’t fitting into the happily ever after category—he never had.
“I suppose I’d better spill it.” She set aside her chopsticks. “Do you remember a friend of Johnny’s named Shaw?”
“Yes. Handsome guy. Came to your engagement party.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait. He also barged into the bridal suite that day at the wedding. What was that about? You never did say.”
After a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to her mother’s. “Something happened on the day of my wedding.”
“What happened?”
“Shaw told me he was in love with me.”
Her mother’s eyes bugged at the revelation. Even saying it aloud shocked Atalee all over again, and suddenly she was back in that moment, standing in her white dress about to marry another man while listening to Shaw spout his feelings.
“Are you serious?”
She nodded.
“Wow.” Her momma sat back and stared at her. “That must have really hit home.”
She nodded. “Since that day, I can’t get him out of my head. It’s totally wrong of me, because I was married to Johnny, but when things started to go south with him, I couldn’t help but hear the echoes of what Shaw said.”
“Honey, life isn’t perfect, and relationships don’t last sometimes. As long as you didn’t act on anything with Shaw—”
“I didn’t,” she said at once.
Her momma nodded.
Looking to her twisting hands, Atalee said, “I just always wondered… what if, you know?”
“That’s natural. And he is hot.”
“Mom!”
Her mother let out a small giggle. “I’m older but I’m not blind—yet.”
They shared a chuckle and took up their chopsticks again. Somehow, just talking about it had Atalee feeling better already, even though things were still messy with that gorgeous special ops man who haunted her, now more than ever.
“So you ran into him again?”
“Yes. He apologized for what he said that day.”
Her mother eyed her. “Does that mean his feelings have changed?”
“I have no idea. It’s complicated, and I don’t know what to think. Actually, I do. Let’s finish our meal and then do more organization to take my mind off it.”
A smile spread over her mother’s face, sending happy lines upward from the corner of each eye. “I’m glad you talked to me, honey. You know I’m always here for you.”
“Don’t go thinking that I won’t force you to do something about that room, Mom.”
She laughed. “Oh, all right! It’s high time I do something about that space. I’ve been feeling bad about it for a while.”
“No wonder.” She shook her head again, thinking of the hours it would take to sort through it all. Maybe it was time for Atalee to clean out her own internal closets, to purge any guilt she had remaining when it came to Shaw. If he asked for more from her, she wanted to be prepared to jump at a chance with him, sans emotional baggage.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“For what?” she asked around a dumpling.
“Helping you with your mess has shown me that I need to clean up my act too.”
“You have a room i
n your place that looks like that?” Her mother pointed to the wall with a chopstick.
Laughing, she said, “No. But I’m ready to have a fresh start.”
* * * * *
Two weeks. Shaw hadn’t returned for therapy for the past two weeks, and to say Atalee was worried was like stating the summers in Texas are hot. She stared out her office window overlooking a parking lot. All the cars were lined in rows, an orderly fashion that wasn’t reflected inside this hospital, let alone in Atalee’s office.
What had happened to him? Was he only avoiding her… or something worse?
She slammed the door on those thoughts and turned from the window, arms folded. The days since she’d seen him had been very busy workwise—she’d finally gotten into a good routine at the hospital, and her patients were beginning to open up to her. She and her mother had also gotten through the majority of their sorting project. The next step was to have a big shopping trip to purchase baskets and things to help them organize.
The moments her mind wandered to Shaw were frequent, though. She needed to find him if only to see for herself that he was all right. If he didn’t want to be her patient, she understood, but he owed her peace of mind.
Dammit, he did.
Now she was getting huffy over the situation. She glanced at her messy desk. She could stay late and clean up or leave the entire mess for Monday.
She grabbed her handbag and slung it over her shoulder, heading straight for the door. On second thought…
She swung back to her desk. Beneath a stack of files was one in particular that she hadn’t dared to open yet. Shaw’s—not Joe Beck. Days ago, she’d requisitioned a copy of this file. Since then, she’d vacillated between guilt for prying into his life and the urge to see what had happened to the man to bring him here.
Much would be classified, not even in a file. But there might be something else…
When she got to her car, she set the file on the passenger’s seat with shaking hands. Then she called her mom.
She picked up on the third ring, sounding breathless.
“Were you working on moving those boxes of books, Mom?” Atalee asked at once.
Her mother chuckled. “No, I was outside working in the flower garden. Are you coming over to help with the room again tonight?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I thought I might take the night off.”
“Oh good. I could use a break. I didn’t realize I raised a slave driver.”
Atalee laughed. “You have to admit, the room is so much better and it will be worth it in the end.”
“Yes, but we could both use a break. I hope you’re going out to do young single person things. If you find a hot man, don’t worry—I won’t expect a phone call till Monday evening.”
“Mom!”
More laughter. “Go have some time to yourself, honey. I’ll just work till my knees give out, then watch Netflix and chill.”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means, but okay, Mom. Love you.”
“You too, honey.”
After they hung up, she sat staring out the windshield for a long minute. She was so lucky to have such a great mom, and it always amused her when her momma pushed the limits with her speech or antics. But her mention of having a hot man made her feel like biting off all her nails.
She could open that file and find Shaw’s address. She could go over there to see for herself that he was okay.
A case of the jitters hit and for a second, she bounced her knee and stared at the file as if it might combust right there on her passenger seat.
She brought a nail up to her teeth and nibbled the corner. “Dammit, Shaw. You leave me no choice.”
Reaching over, she flipped open the file. There on the top was his name in Times New Roman font. Beneath that his age—32 and his sex M. As if one look at him didn’t make a woman’s ovaries explode with the knowledge that Shaw was all man.
She skimmed down to the address, and it gave the one on Bluebonnet Road and the farm where he’d grown up. Beneath that was another address, this one on the far end of the city. Atalee wasn’t certain of how to get there, but after plugging it into her phone, her GPS app was calling out directions to her.
After a second of indecision, she flicked the file closed again so she wasn’t tempted to read more. She already felt bad for digging too deep into Shaw’s business, but he’d started it by coming to her—then disappearing.
As she navigated her way to the route, she felt an overwhelming draw to go to Shaw. Could it be there was enough of a bond between them that she was feeling him calling out to her? Anybody as entrenched in studies of the mind as she was would be laughing at her right now. If she ever admitted to another clinician that she believed in such nonsense, she’d be discredited in a hurry.
But she didn’t believe in coincidence in cases like this. Shaw had come into her life for a purpose.
The sun was at the right angle to pierce her eyes, and she found her designer sunglasses and placed them on. It suddenly hit her that if she felt as young and carefree as her mother expected her to be, she’d be looking at this moment in a whole other light. It would be a fun time, driving to see her man.
Except Shaw wasn’t her man, and there was a dark mystery surrounding him that she was half afraid to crack into.
To help him, she had to try, even if it meant that she’d be haunted by what she heard.
She stopped for gas and picked up a bottle of iced tea. Getting to the opposite side of the city took ages, especially in rush hour traffic on a Friday afternoon. By the time she reached Shaw’s street, she was a mess of nerves.
The street looked like any other—normal houses with kids’ toys littering front porches and planters full of flowers that looked about to expire in the heat of the afternoon. But one house flew the American flag, and her gaze locked on it.
She could still turn around, go home.
If she did, she’d hate herself.
He might not even be here.
She didn’t want to consider what he was doing if not, so she stepped on the gas and rolled down the street. When she spotted the motorcycle tucked up next to the house beneath a carport, her heart gave a hard lurch.
Quickly, before she chickened out, she climbed from her car and stuffed the file into her handbag. The walk to his front door seemed like it was a mile long, even though it was only a few steps. She raised her fist and rapped on the wood door.
After a few seconds, she moved to knock again, when the door cracked.
“Jesus.” Shaw’s roughened tone hit her ears.
She ignored his reaction to seeing her on his doorstep and attempted a smile. “Nice place you have.”
“It’s a rental.” He opened the door wider, and she saw his full body. Jeans slung low on his hips, his belt buckle bearing the name SHAW in finely etched letters. He was barefoot and bare-chested. But as her gaze lit on his chest, her knees threatened to buckle and it wasn’t from desire.
He bore a scar down the center of his chest like that of a heart patient. Other scars dotted his chest and abdomen as well, but she couldn’t take her gaze off the puckered line of skin that revealed just the edge of what Shaw had gone through in his life.
She’d missed it. She could have been there to support him, and she hadn’t.
He noticed her staring at his chest and half-turned away. “What do you want?”
Oh boy. His question didn’t sound all that friendly or inviting.
She flicked a look at his face. Mouth set in a straight line, brows slightly pinched over his deep blue eyes. He was hatless, his hair shorn shorter than she’d ever seen it.
“Shaw. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but…” She looked down at his long bare feet sprinkled with a few dark hairs across the toes. Glancing up again, she said, “I had to make sure you’re all right. You missed your last two appointments.”
“I left a note with the receptionist that I could cancel.”
“I know.”
He contemplated her for so long that she began to think she should do an about-face and leave. He didn’t want her bugging him, that was obvious.
“Maybe I should go,” she said softly.
He pushed the door open farther and stepped back. “Come in, Atalee.”
Her heart shouldn’t give a sharp twist in her chest at the sound of her name on his lips, but she was helpless against it.
* * * * *
Fucking hell, Atalee was here—and his bed was two rooms away.
They didn’t even need a bed—the wall was perfectly fine.
His cock had hardened at the first sight of her standing on his front walk, and now that she was inside his house, it was throbbing.
That indecision and worry on her face had been the deciding factor in letting her in. No, it was the sweet curve of her hips. No, her lips. Gawd, she was the whole package, and he wanted her with a ferocity that had brought bigger men than he was to their knees.
She stood awkwardly before him, and he raked his gaze over her appearance one more time. High heels in a nude pink color that had lewd thoughts swirling through his mind, a slim skirt ending at the most kissable of knees and another one of those sweaters. She must be dying in this heat, but he knew the longer sleeves were probably necessary in her air-conditioned office.
She swallowed and met his eyes.
Goddammit, he could not take her. He’d fucked up her life enough.
When her gaze skittered over his chest and scar a second time, his shoulders tensed. “Are you… all right?” she asked.
He gave a brisk nod and turned away to pick up his discarded T-shirt. As he slipped it over his head, she watched him. Damn, did she have to stand so close? All he had to do was snag her by the waist, lift her against his cock and claim her. The undressing would take care of itself.
He rubbed a hand over his head, wishing he had his hat so he could pull the brim low and escape those piercing sea-green eyes of hers.
Fuck-me eyes. Did she even realize how she was looking at him?
“Sit down.” He waved at the sofa.
She did, sinking into one corner of the leather cushion and pulling a pillow onto her lap.