He pulled his tool kit from the van, looping the strap over his shoulder. In just his faded blue T-shirt, he felt the chill in the air as he pulled out his phone and saw Karen’s text: Can you pick up some wine on your way over? Jack and I have to meet with a client and are running late.
Right, everyone was going to Marcus and Charlotte’s new house, which they’d just signed the papers on, across from Ryan and Jenny’s. At least Marcus was now married, with a baby on the way, and then there was his adoption of Eva. Marcus, out of all of them, was the one who had really pulled his shit together.
Owen strode up the sidewalk, seeing the cracks in the cement and remembering the spot where he’d dropped his history teacher’s keys into the freshly poured concrete. Helga Adams had made every day in that class a living hell for him. To this day, he’d never shared with anyone the fact that he was the one who had taken her keys from her desk. Even though she’d accused him, she’d never been able to prove it.
He pulled open the front door and spotted Rita Mae, redheaded and slender, about ten years his senior, coming from the office. Evidently, she’d been waiting for him, as she hurried his way. His sneakers squeaked on the industrial concrete floor, looking right and left to see if anything out there was coming his way—just a habit he couldn’t shake.
“Owen, thank goodness you’re here,” Rita Mae said. “It’s quite a mess. There’s water everywhere, and I don’t know what to make of what happened. You know, every year about this time, I expect those seniors to pull something. When I heard there was water coming down the stairs from the girls’ bathroom, I just knew it was them. I hope it’s not going to be too bad! It seems the kids are getting more creative every year with their so-called pranks, which are destructive to school property. From the toilet paper decorating the entire hall to Mr. Goodman’s motorcycle on the roof of the school last year—though how they got it up there, I have no idea—and now this, something just has to be done with those kids…”
He was following Rita Mae down the hall, and he took in how quiet the place was. “So, speaking of misfits, where’re all the kids?” he added as he started up the stairs. “Seems rather quiet, considering.”
“You’re right,” she said. “School’s out for the day, and we don’t see many sticking around, maybe a few here and there. It’s amazing, though. Today it’s absolutely deserted, which tells me every kid in the school likely knew this was going to happen and skedaddled instead of having to answer questions and face the music. What is it with teenagers?”
He wondered whether she expected him to answer. He took in the water on the stairs, a thin stream. As his feet splashed through the puddles, he realized Rita Mae was still talking, carrying on about the seniors. He knew well those kinds of pranks, that kind of trouble. The O’Connells had been neck deep in it at one time.
Marcus had been the worst. Any time trouble happened at school, nine times out of ten, Marcus had been behind it, had known about it, or had been a part of it. Then there was Ryan. Owen had lost count of the number of times he’d pulled his younger brothers out of something: doing graffiti, keying the principal’s car, letting air out of the science teacher’s tires… His other younger brother, Luke, had pretty much taken care of himself. Karen was one he’d had to watch extra closely, and then there was Suzanne, who had always given the impression that everything was fine even when it wasn’t. Now look at them. He wondered if he’d ever be able to shake his need to herd them all, to keep tabs on all of them.
As he topped the stairs, he spotted the sheen of water coming from the bathroom just ahead, where the door was open. He found himself looking at the concrete block walls, the girls’ sign on the open door.
Rita Mae went in first and peered around the corner. “Owen is here now. OMG, look at you, girl! This mess…”
He wasn’t sure whom she was talking to at first, but as he stepped into the bathroom, he saw her: her blond hair pulled back into a neat bun, her slender curves in navy slacks and a white tank top, her flat shoes in the water on the floor. The paneling had been pulled off the wall that led to the plumbing, and he could see the wrench in her hand. She was reaching as high as she could on tiptoes to bang the red valve, which he knew was the water shut-off.
She turned her head. All the while, water was still spraying out from what he could now see was a busted pipe. For a second, he felt shocked, looking into her face, oval perfection. Her white tank left nothing to the imagination, soaked. She could’ve won a wet T-shirt contest, as it was practically sheer over her perfect breasts. He had to remind himself this was Tessa Brooks, his first crush, though that had crashed and burned, and she was now just an old rival.
Right. Someone had mentioned long ago that she was now a teacher.
“Well, are you going to do something, or are you going to just stand there and keep staring at my breasts?” she said, then made a rude noise. He thought she’d dropped the F-bomb under her breath. Right, she also had a smart mouth. He’d forgotten about that.
She turned back around and gripped the wrench, about to swing it and pound away at the red lever again, so he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it just as she went to swing again. It was that damn competitive drive, as if she thought she could do everything better than him.
“Whoa, what the hell, Tessa? Stop before you break something.” He went to take the wrench, but she seemed to grip it harder, giving him everything in that one look. He was still holding her wrist, but he didn’t let go, just stepped in right beside her. She was tall and slender, with perfect curves, about five inches shorter than him. Pull it together, Owen. Her eyes were blue, vivid, and flashing with hellfire—and then there were those lips.
“Take your hands off me,” she said, enunciating each word carefully through gritted teeth so there was no chance he’d misunderstand.
Water was still spraying out, soaking his shirt now too, and what did he do but put his other hand on the wrench to pry it from her? He tossed it onto the floor in the water, then somehow maneuvered her back and reached up to shut off the water. The spray stopped, and the water slowly drizzled and then dripped.
“It was one hand, Tessa,” he said. “Now that I’m here, you can let a professional fix this before you break something and turn what’ll likely be a simple fix into something far more costly and time-consuming.”
She didn’t pull those magnificent blue eyes from him. She could tell him to fuck off with just a look, and he could see she was likely thinking of a way to tell him how she could and would do things better than he would.
“I was trying to turn the water off and almost had it, Owen.”
He knew she hated him. At the same time, everything about her brought up unsettling and frustrating feelings inside him. He took in the counter, seeing the gray duct tape, and he reached for it and lifted it. Rita Mae had evidently realized she was in the middle of something personal and had quietly stepped out.
“You planning on doing something with this?” Owen said, tossing the duct tape back on the wet counter and setting his tool case beside one of the sinks. He took a better look at the busted pipe, wondering what had caused this. He doubted this was a prank. More than likely, from the looks of it, the pipe was just old and had been about to give for some time.
“I was planning on fixing the pipe,” she snapped. “I was going to turn the water off and then duct tape it until it could be fixed. You know, I’m not completely useless, Owen. I have two hands and the ability to problem-solve, which was exactly what I was doing. Then here you are, showing up and thinking I’m out of my depth. I’ll have you know I had a handle on the situation, and—”
“Are you finished?” He cut her off, facing her.
She was standing there, holding her ground. The woman was infuriating, and he quickly remembered how she never had gone quietly into the night. No, scratch that. She had never sat back and counted on him for anything. As if she had realized how indecent her shirt was, she simply crossed her arms under those ama
zing breasts and gave him everything.
Confidence. Two can play this game.
“Evidently,” she said, then gestured to the tools and the sink. “I’ll leave you to this, then.”
He had expected something else from her. No, he had wanted something else. Her walking away that easily should’ve been a relief, but there was something about her attitude that he craved. What was it about Tessa? He had anticipated fighting with her, sparring with her, because their arguments had been on another level. No other woman could compete.
“So how did this happen?” he added, taking in her confusion as she stepped back. “Rita Mae said it was a school prank, seniors, but these pipes are old, no longer up to code. Corrosion and wear is what this looks like.”
He took in the pipes intently only because he was finding it damn difficult to keep his gaze from her. When he reached up for the red shut-off lever, he felt how corroded that was, as well.
“I have no idea,” she said. “I was in my classroom, finishing up for the day, and was just about ready to pack it up and leave when something caught my eye. I stepped out of my classroom to investigate and saw water everywhere. I followed it into the bathroom here and found all this…”
As she gestured, someone screamed. In the second that followed, Tessa gave him everything before darting out the door ahead of him. Around the corner, he spotted Rita Mae standing outside a room labeled Janitor, staring down at something in shock.
As he stepped behind both women and took in the closet, he realized what the problem was. He was staring at the body of a young man, curled up, unmoving. On pure instinct, he moved both Rita Mae and Tessa aside and crouched down, seeing the lifeless eyes of what looked like a student. He reached in and checked for a pulse, but just looking at him, he already knew he was dead.
* * *
Click here to download The Hometown Hero available at all retailers!
Other Works Available
How to Heal a Heart, The Friessens
NY Times & USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart brings you a Friessen family novel about one man’s choice to come to terms with a past that has secretly haunted him.
* * *
Gabriel Friessen can’t shake his growing unrest at the idea that his seemingly perfect life is nothing but a lie he’s spent a lifetime running away from.
* * *
Even though he loves his wife and step-daughter and has a family who loves him, he suspects that to move forward, he needs to close the door on his past—namely, on the man who is his father, his real father, who turned his back on his mother and left her alone and pregnant in what seemed to be another lifetime, before he was born.
* * *
Just getting on with things is no longer as easy as it has been all his life. Andy Friessen adopted him, gave him his name, raised him, and loved him, but part of Gabriel needs to face the man who turned his mother away. His mother has moved on, and his brothers and sisters would never understand, but Gabriel knows that to find the peace he needs, he must confront his biological father before he spirals any further into guilt and anger.
How to Heal a Heart, Chapter 1
“Shine the light over here,” Gabriel said. He was on his back on the concrete slab in their crawlspace, feeling a rock or a pebble jabbing into his ass as he gripped the wrench, putting everything he had into loosening the pipe fitting. He could barely see in the dim light, feeling another drop of water hit his head just as the light flashed in his eyes, blinding him.
“Shit, Elizabeth! What the hell…” He shut his eyes and turned his head, the water dripping on his cheek now.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s such a tight space. I’m doing the best I can.”
The edge to her voice had him wanting to snap, but he forced himself to put the wrench down and rolled over, sliding down to where he could sit up.
“Seriously, Gabriel, how about hiring a professional to fix it?” she said. “You know a plumber.”
He reached for the flashlight and took in the crawlspace around them. “I am a professional,” he said, “and I’m not spending money on a plumber when I can do it myself.”
He didn’t have to look over to Elizabeth to see her expression. Of course she was smarting, but then, he’d been an absolute ass as of late.
“Well, can it at least wait until the morning?” she said. “I mean, seriously, it’s not as if this is a new leak that has to be fixed right now. It’s been dripping for how long? I’m tired, you’re tired.”
“You know what? Go to bed, but I’m fixing this. Maybe that’s the problem. There’s far too much going on here that’s been left for too long, so no, I’m not leaving it. I have a hell of a big day tomorrow. I need to be at the job site before sun-up, as all the tradespeople are showing up at the same time—flooring, finishing, electricians to install the lights… I need to be there so no one screws anything else up, or I’ll have to go back and redo the job myself when I could have done it right to begin with.”
Elizabeth flinched. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore faded jeans with a hole in the knee and one of his blue hoodies, which was covered with paint splotches.
“So we’re still there, are we?” she said. “Nobody can do anything right except you. Everyone is nothing but a screwup. You know, Gabriel, I’m doing my best, but there’s days I wonder, from the things you say to me and others, whether you can hear yourself or have any idea how people are taking it. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”
He took in the door to the crawlspace and then dragged his hand over his face. “Nothing is going on. I’m sorry, I’m just…” Tired, pissed off, not sleeping—or was it that he could feel his once firm footing slipping in every area of his life?
She said nothing, just sat, crossing her legs on the concrete, in the grit and dirt, waiting patiently. Fuck, why did she have to be so damn patient?
He pulled in a breath, and even he could feel the frustration building. He wanted to snap, and he flicked his fingers through his hair. This time, he felt her hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Are you going to sit there all night and snap at me and at everyone else?” she said. “I mean, when my brother stopped by before dinner tonight, I don’t remember you ever being so rude. Really, telling him we were about to eat dinner and asking how long he was planning on staying?”
Right, her family. He didn’t have the patience for Marty, her wannabe biker brother, six foot two and three hundred plus pounds, dropping by anytime he wanted. He just wanted some peace and quiet. “I’ll call him and apologize,” Gabriel said, “but seriously, Elizabeth, just once I’d like to come home and not have to wonder if Ruby, Marty, or even your mom and dad are going to show up—and that ridiculous way they ring the doorbell, leaning on it over and over? Then I’m constantly having to throw on more food to feed your brother and sister, who it seems don’t have lives of their own. They’re always here.”
Yeah, Elizabeth had the most dysfunctional family. They were entertaining, to say the least, but he was having a hard time dealing with them right now, wanting space and quiet and normal.
“Huh,” she replied, and he didn’t miss the edge. “So is this really about my family? You know Marty looks up to you, Gabriel, and you made him feel like absolute shit tonight, unwelcome. I can’t remember you ever treating anyone in my family like that. Do you want me to tell my family not to come over, or is it that you want them to schedule an appointment? Is that what this is about?”
He kicked the wrench and shoved it over. The last thing he wanted was hard feelings, and this seemed to be heading to a place that could divide everyone. But what the hell did he want? How could he make her understand his own confusion?
“No, it’s fine, but at the same time, how about some boundaries and space with your family? Do they have to be here every day?”
She made a face. “They’re not here every day, Gabriel…” She lifted her hand when he went to interrupt her.
“Ah, let me finish. Marty has been going through a rough patch, and he’s been coming over here looking for some inspiration to get a handle on his diet. Did you know he had a panic attack? His doctor told him he had to clean up his diet and take off a lot of the excess weight. He sees how healthy you eat, and he’s trying to do what you do.”
He just stared at Elizabeth. He’d had no idea, and he wondered if the shock showed on his face. “I didn’t know he had a panic attack. When? Why?”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Last Thursday. He thought it was a heart attack and called me down. He was at a pawn shop, looking at a ring, wanting to pop the question to Bonnie.”
Again, he wondered if his confusion showed. “Who’s Bonnie?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “You know, his girlfriend, the one he’s been dating for eighteen months now?”
Right. Short, overweight, glasses, a few years older than Marty. How could he forget? He’d met her only once or maybe twice.
“Didn’t know it was serious,” he said. “How did I not know this? She’s never with him when he comes by. A pawn shop for a ring, seriously?”
The way Elizabeth was staring at him, he realized how wrapped up he was in himself. She shrugged. “Well, considering how you made Marty feel tonight, it’s a good thing she didn’t come. Nevertheless, she works nights. And what can I say? Marty loves pawn shops.” She paused. “But what happened with Marty tonight is kind of beside the point. You’ve been off for a while, and I’ve been pretty patient with you, beyond patient. Is this really about my family coming by? Because if it is, I’ll tell them to stop just showing up if that would make you feel better.”
#6--The Missing Father--O’Connells Page 11