CROSS HER HEART

by Leigh, Melinda

  Matt handed him his cup of water. Justin took it and drank deeply.

  “You and Erin still had a relationship?” Todd asked.

  Justin closed his eyes for one breath. When he opened them, they were bleak. “Yeah. She didn’t want drugs in the house. I respected that.” He paused, his next breath quivering. “She had faith in me. She believed I could beat my addiction. I wish I could have been half the man she thought I was.”

  “Zack just talked to you?” Todd asked.

  “It was strange,” Justin said. “I kept asking him to let me die. The more I asked, the more he didn’t want to. It was almost perverse.” He paused and exhaled hard. “I wanted to die. I couldn’t—can’t—imagine living without her.” His voice faded, and he began to sob.

  Todd pocketed his notepad. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

  Matt didn’t know if rest was going to make any difference.

  Todd left, and Matt waited for Justin to stop crying.

  “I feel bad for the cop,” Justin said. “He barely got a few questions in before I fell apart.”

  “It’ll get better.” Matt hoped.

  “Will it?” Justin’s tone shifted to angry. “She’s gone. What do I have to live for?” He reached for his IV tubing. “This?”

  Matt grabbed the tubing. “Hey, you need the antibiotics.”

  “They gave me painkillers too.” Justin shrugged. “I couldn’t even quit with my marriage on the line. I couldn’t quit with Erin standing behind me. I couldn’t quit for the stepkids I swore to love. How will I ever quit with nothing to motivate me?”

  “Those kids still need your love,” Matt said. “They lost their mom, and they miss you.”

  “They don’t.”

  “They do. Kayla told Bree.”

  Justin didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his face away.

  “Give it time. You need to heal.” Matt would be there for his friend, but would it be enough?

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Bree hadn’t been home more than ten minutes when the doorbell rang. She glanced out the window at the front porch. Steph.

  Bree paused. Exhaustion settled over her. She needed some breathing room. But she wasn’t getting any until she dealt with Steph. Again.

  Bree opened the door.

  “I’m sorry.” Steph backed away. “I don’t want to come in. I just wanted to talk to you for a couple of minutes.”

  “Sure.” Bree stepped out onto the porch. The cold wind blew through the holes in her cable-knit sweater. She rubbed her arms.

  “I don’t expect the kids to forgive me.”

  Bree stopped her. “You didn’t do anything.” But Bree wasn’t ready for the kids to interact with Steph yet. They knew that Zack had killed their mother, but Bree had given only the details they’d specifically asked for.

  Hell, Bree needed processing time. She wanted a solid week with nothing traumatic to do. OK. Maybe a month.

  “My husband killed Erin. I didn’t even know.” Steph still sounded as if she didn’t believe what had happened. “It’s been two days, and I still haven’t processed it.”

  “I know how you feel.” It still felt surreal to Bree too.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you.”

  “Do you have somewhere to stay?” Bree asked. Steph’s house was still a crime scene.

  “Yeah.” Steph sniffed. “One of the girls from the salon let me stay in her guest room. I’m going to sell the house. I can’t ever live there again.”

  “How do you feel?”

  Steph rubbed her belly. “OK, I guess. How do I tell the baby her father tried to kill us both?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot.” Steph covered her mouth with one hand.

  “It’s OK. We can’t change our past, but we do learn to live with it.”

  That said, Bree hadn’t told Luke or Kayla that their father had used them to extort money from their mother. She had to tell them eventually. It would be far worse if they heard about Craig from someone else. But they’d had enough bad news for now, and Kayla wasn’t old enough. She didn’t know anything about her father. Bree dreaded the day she had to tell her the whole story.

  Steph backed toward the porch steps. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you and that I’m sorry. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too.”

  Steph walked down the porch steps and climbed into her car. Bree waved and watched her drive away. Before she went back inside, Adam’s beat-up Bronco turned into the driveway. He parked in front of the house, then opened the cargo hold of his SUV and took out a canvas. She opened the door for him, and he carried the painting into the house. In the living room, the kids gathered around them.

  “That isn’t the painting you were working on.” Bree knew from the size alone.

  “I finished that one the day you took the kids back home. Erin asked me a hundred times to paint her a picture of the farm.” He uncovered the canvas. “It isn’t very good, but I tried.”

  Bree just stared. In the painting, Erin was holding Cowboy’s lead rope, while Luke and Kayla groomed him. Erin was smiling, one hand on the horse’s nose. The wind picked up the ends of her dark hair. Behind them, the barn stood surrounded by its flower-dotted meadow. Sun shone from a brilliant blue sky.

  “That’s the day she brought him home from the auction,” Adam said.

  Luke stood next to Bree. “Cowboy was a mess. Skinny and dirty, covered in scratches. Mom said he would have been shipped to the slaughterhouse the next day if she didn’t take him.”

  Bree caught her brother’s sideways smile and knew without a doubt that Adam had paid for that horse. And probably the others as well. In the painting, the horse was resting, his head hung low, one rear leg cocked, as if he knew he was safe.

  Adam had painted from the viewpoint of the back porch—from the viewpoint of an outsider. An uneasy feeling stirred in Bree’s gut. Was that how he felt? Like an outsider to other people’s closeness?

  Most of his work was dark and disturbing, but this . . . This was all the light his other paintings lacked. This was unicorns and rainbows and glitter compared to the inner demons Bree was accustomed to seeing in her brother’s art.

  “Anyway, I thought you might want it.” He shrugged.

  “Thank you. Why would you say this isn’t good?” Bree thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever done, but she didn’t say that. He’d be offended, and what did she know about art?

  He frowned. “It’s not from my mind. I didn’t create it. It’s just them.”

  His perspective floored her for a minute. Adam thought because the painting was realistic rather than interpretive, it was of lesser value. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Bree took him by the arms. “You created every square inch of this, and I think it’s amazing. You captured Erin’s essence. You portrayed one split second of her life and managed to show her kindness, generosity, and optimism.” All the things that Bree wanted to remember about her little sister. “It’s brilliant. What do you call it?”

  Adam turned back to it for a second, his eyes glistening with moisture. “Safe.”

  Bree hugged him. She was not going to let him retreat into his art again, at least not completely. She would drag him into the light. “You’re staying for dinner, right?”

  “Um.” He stared at his shoes. “I need to start another painting.”

  “You just finished two.”

  Dana walked past them and picked up a cookbook lying on the end table. “Of course he’s staying for dinner. I made cacciatore.”

  Adam met Bree’s eyes with just a hint of panic. Ha! He didn’t know how to argue with Dana, and Bree wasn’t going to help him. She gave him a one-armed hug. “The kids need to see you more, so I’m going to expect you for regular dinners.”

  “Weekly family dinners would be great for the kids.” Dana headed back toward the kitchen, cookbook in hand. “Whatever day works best for everyone else. Every day is the same for me
now.”

  While the kids oohed and aahed over the painting and Adam looked for the best light to hang it, Bree followed Dana into the kitchen. “Did I tell you I was sort of offered the position of sheriff?” Bree filled a glass of water and summarized her talk with Todd and Marge.

  “You’d be a great sheriff. You’re smart. You’re experienced and good with people. Your mouth doesn’t run before your brain, and you don’t have a dick to trip over.”

  Bree choked on her water. Wiping her chin with a napkin, she said, “Yeah. If I get the job, that’s not going to be one of my acceptance speech points. This sheriff’s department has never even had a female deputy.”

  Dana rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then you’ll shake things up.” Dana grinned.

  “Now you’re making me regret saying yes.” Not that Bree thought the job was a done deal. Just because Marge had once been the governor’s secretary didn’t mean he’d appoint Bree as sheriff.

  Someone knocked on the kitchen door. Matt stood on the back porch. Bree opened the door. He held a big white-and-black dog on a leash. As soon as the dog saw Bree, it lunged at her. But Matt was ready and held it on a short leash. Still, Bree jumped backward, her heart trying to race right out of her chest.

  “Ladybug, sit,” Matt said in a firm voice.

  The big dog’s ass hit the floor. Its tongue lolled, and huge brown eyes took in the kitchen.

  “What is that?” Bree asked.

  “Your gateway dog,” Matt said.

  “What?”

  “We talked about this. A dog designed to make you like other dogs.”

  “Why is it here?”

  “Her name is Ladybug. She’s from my sister’s rescue. You don’t have to keep her, but she really needs a foster home, a place to calm down and get accustomed to living in a house. Then my sister can get her adopted and save more dogs.”

  Bree looked down. Ladybug was pudgy. She was mostly white with a black mask and ears and random black spots on her body. “Why did you bring her to me?”

  “You need a nonthreatening dog. She is about as nonthreatening as it gets.”

  It was true. The chubby mutt looked like one of Kayla’s Pillow Pets come to life.

  The kids came into the kitchen.

  “I told you I heard Matt!” Kayla yelled. “He brought a dog.”

  Luke and Kayla beelined for Ladybug, who forgot how to sit and jumped all over them. The kids squealed. The dog slobbered. With only a one-inch stump of a tail, Ladybug wagged her whole butt.

  “She’s a rescue,” Matt said. “I’m trying to place her in a home. Do you think you guys could teach her house manners? That would really help.”

  “Why can’t we keep her?” Kayla stopped petting the dog, who bumped her hand with her nose in protest.

  “That would be up to your aunt Bree,” Matt said.

  “Mom would have loved her.” Kayla hugged Ladybug, who slurped her face. “She looks like a cow.”

  Vader jumped down off the kitchen counter and walked up to the dog. Ladybug paid him no attention. The cat walked away, jumped back onto the counter, and knocked some mail to the floor, as if upset he couldn’t intimidate her.

  “I’m going to feed the horses.” Unable to deal with the melee—and the prospect of living with a dog on a daily basis—Bree went to the back door and put on a coat and boots. “Would you help me, Matt?”

  “Of course.” He followed her out to the barn.

  The horses were at the pasture gate, ready for their dinner. Bree opened the gate, and they ambled into their stalls on their own. Matt closed the doors while Bree dumped grain into buckets. She checked water and gave them hay.

  Then she leaned her back on Cowboy’s door and crossed her arms over her chest. “You should have asked me about the dog first.”

  Matt took up the same position next to her. “You would have said no.”

  “Probably.” Definitely.

  “You don’t have to keep her.”

  “You know the kids are already attached, and I won’t take her away from them.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “I don’t like it,” Bree said. “You should have consulted me.”

  “It was insensitive,” Matt agreed. But he didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  Bree sighed. What could she do? She would have to deal with her fear, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Annoyed. Scared. Maybe even a little relieved she’d be forced to confront the final terror of her childhood. Tomorrow. She’d deal with her feelings tomorrow. Today, she was too damned tired. “OK. I’ll do my best. She does look sweet.”

  “She loves everyone and everything, but I will warn you that she is a terrible watchdog. She’ll let anyone into the house, but her complete lack of aggression is why I thought she’d be perfect for you.”

  Something in his tone made Bree look sideways and scan his face. His eyes were troubled. Had he come straight from the hospital? “How was Justin today?”

  The air left his chest in one whoosh. “His shoulder is healing, but his emotional recovery is going to be rough.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bree turned to face him. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. He returned the embrace and leaned his face on the top of her head. They stood like that for a few minutes, until she felt him relax.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “No. I really don’t. I’ll support Justin however I can, but I can’t recover for him. He has to do it himself.”

  “OK. Let me know if I can help.”

  “I will, thanks.” He shook his head, as if putting his friend’s tragedy out of his mind, then smiled down at her.

  She released him. Their eyes locked. Damn. He smelled good.

  As if caught in the emotional moment, he lowered his face toward hers.

  Bree planted a hand in the center of his chest. “Hold on there, Thor.”

  “Thor?” Matt stared down at her.

  “Your beard has filled in again. You look like a Viking.”

  His mouth quirked. “I want credit for not making a magic hammer joke.”

  She snorted. He was an attractive man, but it was his sense of kindness and humor that were hard to resist.

  “We hardly know each other,” she said.

  He lifted a brow. “We’ve worked together day and night. I’ve saved your butt. You’ve saved mine.”

  “And it’s a very fine butt,” she said. “But—”

  He grinned. “You like me.”

  Bree fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You’ve been normal all this time. Why are you suddenly acting like a seventeen-year-old?”

  “Maybe you make me feel like a teenager.” He leaned closer and sniffed her hair. His beard rubbed against her face.

  Inside her boots, her toes curled.

  “Yes. I like you,” she said.

  He frowned. “I sense a but.”

  “I have a lot going on here. Those two kids have to be my focus.”

  “I heard you’re going to be sheriff.”

  “It’s hardly a done deal,” Bree said.

  “Marge told me, so it’s going to happen.”

  She laughed softly. “You have a lot of faith in Marge.”

  “She gets shit done.”

  “OK, my point here is that I’m going to be around, and I do like you.”

  He grinned.

  She continued. “But I don’t have time for a relationship.”

  “What about some casual dating?”

  “How casual?”

  “Dinner now and then,” Matt said.

  “Maybe I can manage that, as long as our relationship remains casual.”

  “OK.” He shrugged. “You can call it whatever you like.”

  Despite his easy acceptance of her terms, Bree feared she was not as in control of the situation as she would have liked, and she had a terrifying suspicion that was going to be
her new life in a nutshell.

  But she had the kids for motivation. She would take on whatever came her way for them. A new job. Three horses. A dog she didn’t want. Whatever.

  Go ahead, life. Bring it on.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It truly takes a team to publish a book. As always, credit goes to my agent, Jill Marsal, for nine years of unwavering support and great advice. I’m thankful for the entire team at Montlake, especially my managing editor, Anh Schluep, and my developmental editor, Charlotte Herscher. Special thanks to Rayna Vause and Leanne Sparks for help with various technical details, and to Kendra Elliot, for pushing me to write on days when I lack motivation.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2016 Jared Gruenwald Photography

  #1 Amazon Charts and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh is a fully recovered banker. After joining Romance Writers of America, she decided writing was more fun than analyzing financial statements. Melinda’s debut novel, She Can Run, was nominated for Best First Novel by the International Thriller Writers. She’s also garnered Golden Leaf and Silver Falchion Awards, along with two nominations for a RITA and three Daphne du Maurier Awards. Her other novels include She Can Tell, She Can Scream, She Can Hide, She Can Kill, Midnight Exposure, Midnight Sacrifice, Midnight Betrayal, Midnight Obsession, Hour of Need, Minutes to Kill, Seconds to Live, Say You’re Sorry, Her Last Goodbye, Bones Don’t Lie, What I’ve Done, Secrets Never Die, and Save Your Breath. She holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate, has taught women’s self-defense, and lives in a messy house with her family and a small herd of rescue pets. For more information, visit www.melindaleigh.com.