#1-3--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Hey,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about this. I’m going to take care of it. We’re going to fix it. Do you know who it was who shot your dad?” He didn’t allow his gaze to linger too long on Jenny as he took in his daughter, who now suddenly seemed so young.

  “He worked for Dad,” she said. “That guy with the glasses. He always wore suits, the same ones, blue and black…Troy Johnson. Is that all? Because I want a shower, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Yeah, of course, go shower,” Jenny said even though he wanted to keep her talking and question her and find out everything. But he said nothing as he watched Alison walk away and up the stairs, hearing her footsteps, then a door closing.

  He gave everything to Jenny, who was doing her best to hold it all together, but it was hard when her world had been so suddenly and completely rocked.

  “Oh my God, Ryan…” She lifted her gaze to his, struggling for words. “I thought it was her who shot him. I hid the gun.”

  He sat up and rested his hands on his knees, taking in the house around them, hearing the shower upstairs, knowing all too well that tampering with evidence at a crime scene was as bad as it could get.

  “First things first, I need you to tell me everything,” he said. “Everything you did from the minute you hid the gun—and I want to know everything that happened between you and Wren.”

  She pulled in a breath and looked away for a second. “Where do you want me to start?” she finally said, and for the first time, he thought he was actually reaching her.

  “At the beginning.”

  Chapter Twenty

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her daughter laugh. It had been so long that the sound of her laughter and the teasing of family coming from her living room had Jenny pausing, knife in hand, as she chopped up carrots for a veggie tray.

  She stood for a second, just listening to the voices and the joy as she thought of everything that had happened in the past few days. All of it had felt like a bad dream, but now, for the first time she could remember, she felt as if her life and her daughter’s were on the right trajectory.

  Everything in the house that had belonged to Wren was in a storage unit in her name, including the grease trap with the gun. She still couldn’t believe she’d covered up a crime for someone else. The horror of what she’d done and the reality of the trouble she could be in had kept her awake that first night. At the same time, she knew who Troy was, and she knew Wren had likely dug up something on him. She hadn’t even known where to begin to fix it.

  Ryan had called Marcus.

  Marcus had called the Atlanta PD.

  Meanwhile, Luke had sat and listened, and Karen had told her to say nothing. Suzanne and Owen had said that family looked after family, and Iris had simply told Ryan and Marcus to take care of it.

  What that meant, she didn’t know. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she were part of something bigger, and there were people who had her and her daughter’s backs.

  Then there was her life with Wren, the depravity of what he’d demanded of her, the nights he’d hurt her because he could. Ryan had just listened, but she hadn’t told him everything. There were just some things that went on between a man and his wife, sexually, that she couldn’t talk about—the pleasure, the pain, and how Wren had got off on it.

  Maybe Ryan knew. Maybe that was why he still slept next door, at his house, but spent the rest of his time at hers.

  “Mom, come here! He’s on the news,” Alison called out.

  She heard the squeak of the steps as Ryan entered the house. Luke was perched on the sofa, beer in hand, Karen was in a chair with a glass of wine, and Suzanne was digging in the artichoke dip on the table. Iris was standing just off to the side.

  Everyone was looking at the TV, at a CNN broadcast from Atlanta, where Troy Johnson was in cuffs.

  “They arrested him for Dad’s murder…” Alison said.

  Jenny took in her daughter, who was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a short crop top that showed off a belly piercing. Her face was free of the makeup that had become part of who she was, and her hair was now her natural shade of brown. She thought she had Iris to thank for that. Alison’s grandmother seemed to know how to talk to her daughter, how to get her to do something and make her think it had been her idea.

  Ryan’s hand rested on her shoulder and then the small of her back. She looked up at him, still hearing the sound of the TV.

  “How? I don’t understand…” she said.

  Marcus was there too, on the other side of Ryan. Just something about them told her they were behind this, but how?

  “We just righted a wrong, is all,” he said. “Made sure the case was closed and no questions could come your way or Alison’s.”

  She just stared at both of them, not understanding what they’d done. She knew the three brothers had gone to Atlanta late the previous afternoon and had come back just that day. “I want to know…” she started.

  Marcus and Ryan exchanged a look, then glanced over to Luke, who had flicked the remote to turn the game back on, Penn State against Tennessee. Marcus said not a word as he walked over to the rest of the family, where he set his hand on Alison’s head and rustled her hair. She smiled, and Jenny was again stuck on this instant family, how they’d come together for them, how each of them had connected with Alison—the kid, as they all called her.

  “There’s one less thing in your storage locker,” Ryan said. “Marcus found out that the Atlanta PD had a file on you and Alison and no other leads, but your husband had files on a lot of people, important people.”

  “But how…? I don’t understand.”

  It was the way he looked at her, the way she stood beside him, so close. He had made not one move to kiss her, just gave her a simple touch here and there. He reached for her hand and pulled her outside on the porch so they were alone. She took in her Jeep in the driveway, the rusty Hyundai she still needed to sell, and the other cars and trucks of Ryan’s family, who, it seemed, were always there.

  “I said I would handle it, and we did,” he said. “I know what you told me about Wren, what he did, how he treated you. I’m not like that, Jenny. I would never do that to you, keep something from you, hide the kind of secrets he did, control you the way he did. We found a way to right history, to change the outcome, to get the smoking gun where it needed to be. So when I say all this, know that I’m not telling you how to think or telling you that you don’t need to know. I’m just saying it’s been taken care of. Troy’s going to jail. The case is being closed. And I want you and Alison to move in with me.”

  For a minute, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He stepped forward and set his hands on her shoulders, ran them down her arms, and rested them on her hips, over her jean shorts. She stood barefoot on the front porch, staring at a man she felt as if she’d known a lifetime, yet it had been only a few days since he’d first walked back into her life.

  “You want me and Alison to move in with you?”

  He angled his head, standing so close to her, his hands sliding over the small of her back. “Yes.”

  “As roommates?” she said, feeling foolish, and took in the odd smile on his face.

  “No, not as roommates. I want to get to know my daughter, and you. You know, you’ve never told me why you slipped away that night without a word. It may have been just sex, but there was something about it. I never got you out of my mind. I wanted something more then.”

  He was still holding her, and she remembered all too well that night, the passion. She’d seen him across the bar and made her way over, not expecting the night to turn out as it had.

  “All I can say is I left because I didn’t want to hear you tell me to get lost, you know, the same old lines, like ‘This has been fun. I’ll call you,’ and then I never hear from you. So I did the only thing I could think of to feel in control, like I was leaving with dignity…” She shrugged.

  F
or a second, she wondered what would have happened if she’d stayed, the life she and Alison would have had, how different it would have been. “But we can’t go back, Ryan,” she finally said. “We only have right now. We only have this moment to go forward—and no, I don’t want to move in with you over there. This is my house that my aunt left me, and it’s the first time I’ve had something that’s all mine.”

  “I really get that, Jenny, but this neighbor thing isn’t going to work, with me living next door to you,” he said. Then he leaned down and kissed her. Her hands pressed into his chest, fisting his shirt. He pulled back. “But if you want to take it slow, I can do that.”

  This was something else she hadn’t expected.

  “I like your mom, Ryan,” she said. “But what happened to your dad? None of you talk about him.”

  He said nothing at first. She could feel something in him seem to pull back. She wasn’t sure what it was. “He left,” he said, then shrugged and glanced out into the darkness. “He was just gone one day.”

  “So you’ve never heard from him?”

  “He made a choice to leave. Nope, never heard from him. I know Luke tried to find him once. Not sure if he did. We never talked about it.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  What was it about this man? She sensed he was holding on to his own pain.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to know. He left, never reached out. Kind of says everything. Besides, this is about you and me. I don’t want to rush you, but at the same time, Jenny, I mean it when I say I’m not Wren.”

  The way he said it scared the hell out of her, because she knew it was true.

  “I need to be sure this time,” she said, thinking of Alison inside and this man standing in front of her. It seemed too good to be true.

  “Then take as long as you need, but until then, you’d better get used to having me around,” he said, then pulled her closer, and she settled her arms over his shoulders, feeling his strength, his height.

  “I guess I can handle that.”

  When he leaned in and kissed her again, for the first time, she felt as if something in her life could turn out all right.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So you’re heading off. Can you tell us where you’re going this time?” Marcus said from where he lingered outside.

  “Or how long you’ll be gone?” Ryan added, already missing his brother.

  Luke stepped out onto Jenny’s front porch and let the screen door close behind him. After another family night, Luke was now being shipped off. Ryan could hear Jenny inside with his sisters, his mom, and a daughter he was doing his best to get to know. She was circling him cautiously more than talking to him, but he could sense her need to open up.

  One day at a time, his mom had said.

  “You know better,” Luke replied. “Can’t say. Well, I’ll see you on the flip side. It’ll take as long as it takes.”

  Ryan knew that was Luke’s way of saying it was classified. It could be weeks or months before he was back stateside from some part of the world the average person didn’t know about. He wanted to tell him to stay safe, to come back alive, to not dare fucking die. But he didn’t.

  Instead, he said, “I’m going to say it even though I know you don’t want to hear it. Thank you for what you did for my kid, and for Jenny.”

  Luke said nothing. Ryan could tell he was uncomfortable. It was him who’d taken the gun from the grease trap and said he’d make sure it was found where it should be. Ryan didn’t know how he’d gotten into Troy’s house or where he’d planted the gun, and he didn’t need to know. Luke was good at what he did.

  “Told you to knock it off and stop worrying. Nothing will come back on her. The gun was clean of prints, but ballistics will show it’s a match. It’ll look as if he cleaned the gun and stashed it. So how did Atlanta PD get the tip?” Luke said, though he was looking right at Marcus, and something passed between them.

  “That’s the thing about anonymous tips,” Marcus said. “They’re anonymous. It’s all good, Ryan. Don’t worry. We did it for that kid in there. After all, she’s family. So you’re really moving in here with Jenny?”

  “Eventually,” Ryan said. “We’ll get there. She wants to take it slow. I guess I can give her that.”

  Then he hugged his brother in that brotherly way he always did before he shipped out, and he watched him walk away and climb behind the wheel of the pickup truck.

  “Stop worrying about him,” Marcus said. “He’ll be fine.”

  They watched their brother start to pull away, and Marcus lingered beside him. He was wearing blue jeans and a faded striped T-shirt, a beer in his hand. Just then, Owen pulled up in his plumbing van and honked, and Luke paused. Owen hopped out and went to the window, evidently to say his own goodbye.

  “I know,” Ryan said. “It’s just hard, you know. We never know where he’s going or if he’s coming home.”

  Marcus rested his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Can I get you another beer?” he finally said, and he headed into the house.

  Owen started up the steps, ballcap on backwards, jeans ripped at the knees. It would be another night of the family together. “So who won the game?” he said as they walked into the house.

  “No idea,” Ryan replied. Inside, he took in his sisters and mom in the kitchen with Alison, where everyone had gathered, feeling their family together in a way he couldn’t explain.

  Then there was Jenny. Something about her smile told him that she fit in. Judging by her laugh, how relaxed she was, maybe there could really be some kind of future for them.

  One day at a time, though.

  Then, just maybe, everything would be perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As Ryan blinked in the early morning light, it took him a second to realize where he was, feeling the sexy, gorgeous woman in bed beside him, her warmth pressed against him. The sheets were twisted around him and Jenny, and he heard nothing but the quiet of the morning, seeing on the bedside clock that it was just past six.

  He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and she murmured softly. He wanted to remind her that they needed to get up soon, as he had work, and so did she. Then there was their kid in the house, who wasn’t exactly a well-adjusted teen thrilled with her current lot in life.

  But he wanted to lie like this for another moment before he rolled her over, touched her, and made love to her again. He planned on it, considering he felt that was the perfect way to wake up in the morning.

  They had taken it slow because that had been what she wanted, even though Ryan considered sleeping together to be at the top of the list in terms of getting to know someone and building the perfect well-balanced relationship, with talking, sharing, and being together.

  He kissed her neck and allowed his hand to trail over the flat of her stomach and the swell of her breasts, and she moaned softly. He felt her beginning to stir, to stretch, before she rolled over and allowed him to settle once again on top of her, to slip inside her, to love her again.

  Her hands were in his hair around him, pulling him closer, when he heard a loud crash downstairs as if something heavy had been dropped, and he froze, pulling back and staring at the closed white bedroom door. Jenny stiffened under him.

  “She’s up,” he said.

  Jenny shut her eyes and sighed in that way of hers, as if giving herself a mental pep talk to go and deal with her daughter. She pressed her hand to her forehead, brushing back her hair, and he slid off her and sat at the edge of the bed, hearing the creak of the metal frame. As he put his bare feet on the floor, he allowed the sheet to fall away.

  “She is,” Jenny said. “She knows you stayed over, or she wants something, or…”

  “I’ll go and talk to her,” he said. This was all so new, staying over but keeping his house next door, sneaking out in the early morning before Alison was up so he could go home and shower and change. They were still in the “taking it slow” stage—not him, but her.
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br />   He knew why, because of the demons she still carried from having been married to a man like Wren. How could she have loved a man who could manipulate her the way Wren had? The idea of it still had him wondering where her head was, and he thought that was why he was still having to leave at dawn.

  He kept his house, and she kept hers.

  He stood up naked, feeling the cool air, and reached for his pants on the floor in a heap with Jenny’s shirt and sweats from the night before. It seemed that was the one thing they were doing really well, having sex and sleeping, not so much talking and relating. She was as closed as her daughter.

  He zipped up his fly and reached for his white T-shirt on the floor. Jenny had propped herself up on her elbow, and the sheet just covered those remarkable breasts. She watched him unabashedly as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  “You know she knows you’re here,” she said, her voice so soft. She didn’t look like the mother of a teenager, and he was certainly still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he had a kid. He was now a father to a girl who made nothing easy.

  “I know, which is why I’ll go down and deal with her,” he said, then heard a loud clunk again that sounded like it came from the kitchen. She was really banging things around.

  Jenny winced. “You’d better hurry before she takes my kitchen down around us or breaks something that really does matter to me.” She lay back down on the mattress, pressing her head into the pillow, the sheet covering her again.

  He pulled open the door and stepped out barefoot before pulling it closed behind him, then went down the stairs, running his hand over his thick hair and yawning. The stairs creaked, and the noise from the kitchen suddenly stopped.

  He took in the locked front door, the way the early morning light filled the living room, the white walls covered in old photos and artwork, and he walked down the hall to the kitchen. The first thing he saw were Alison’s deep brown eyes staring back at him. Her mouth was tight and frowning, and she stood on the other side of the island. Her hair was short, freshly cut, and he thought his sister Karen, or maybe Suzanne, was responsible for the new neat and tidy look.