Unraveling the Past

by Beth Andrews

  Jess rolled her eyes. Yeah, she remembered. When they got to Layne’s house, all Jess had wanted was to crash. To be alone so she could call Anthony or maybe even sneak back to his house.

  But Layne had insisted they hang out on the front porch. And though it’d been, like, seventy degrees outside, she’d made hot chocolate. Nothing fancy, just the instant kind, but she’d plopped some frozen Cool Whip on top and even stuck a couple rectangles of Hershey bar on it.

  So while sitting there, sipping cocoa with some adult—a cop—at her side, a dog at her feet, had been so super dorky, it had also been kind of…nice. Comforting. Then Layne told Jess about her own childhood, how her mom had left them—or how they’d all thought she’d left except now they knew better.

  All because Jess had stumbled upon those bones.

  From the sounds of it, Layne’s mom hadn’t been much better than Jess’s when it came to caring for her kids. But Layne hadn’t sounded bitter as she’d explained that she learned early on that she needed to take responsibility for her own actions, the choices she made. That if she wanted to be treated with respect, she needed to treat others that way.

  It was a total lecture, one disguised as some girly chitchat.

  But Jess had to admit it made sense. Sort of. Not that she’d ever tell Layne that.

  Uncle Ross dug something out of his front pocket then sat down next to Jess. “I wanted you to have this,” he said, laying a small, square box in front of her, one wrapped in shiny, light pink paper with darker pink ribbon wrapped around it and a white and pink bow.

  Frowning, she straightened. And forgot all about her plan to never talk to him again. “What is it?”

  “Open it and find out,” he said, watching her carefully. But not how he usually did, as if she was an alien sent down to make his life miserable. No, this time it was as if he was trying to gauge her reaction. To see how she felt about him giving her something.

  “You can’t bribe me into liking you,” she said, her hands tucked in her lap.

  “No bribe. Just a gift.”

  He’d gotten a gift. For her. Still not quite ready to trust his motives, she slowly pushed her cereal bowl aside and picked up the present. She wanted to hold it up to her ear and shake it but that would’ve made it seem as if she cared what was inside.

  She pulled off the bow and then unwound the ribbon, wrapping it around her fingers to make a circle before setting it aside. Carefully picking the tape off the corner, she peeled back the edge and repeated the process with the other side before sliding her thumbnail under the last piece. Took the paper off to reveal a glossy white jeweler’s box. Wondering what it could be, she smoothed out the wrapping paper and folded it in half. Then in half again.

  “For God’s sake,” Layne said, a smile evident in her voice, “you’re killing me here. Just open the box, already.”

  “Her mother was the same way,” Uncle Ross said.

  Surprised, Jess raised her eyes. “She was?”

  He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Christmas morning I tore through my presents, had them all opened and half of them played with before she even finished unwrapping hers. She said her favorite part about opening a present was the anticipation leading up to it.”

  Tears burned the back of Jess’s throat. She cleared them away. That was the part she liked best, too. The expectation, the hope of what could be inside.

  Holding her breath, she flipped the lid of the box open. Nestled against the fluffy white bottom was a wide cuff, the deep silver of it etched with flowers. Her vision blurred, her fingers trembled as she took the bracelet from the box. It was heavy, the metal cool in her hand.

  Unable to believe it, she met his eyes. “Is this…is this the bracelet I was looking at that day?”

  “What day?” Layne asked leaning forward to get a better look at the present.

  “A few days before we moved here, Uncle Ross took me to the mall to get some summer clothes.” And, she recalled with no little amount of shame, she’d acted like a brat, acted as if she hadn’t wanted anything when in truth, she’d been thrilled to have clothes that no one had ever worn before. “We walked past this jewelry store and I saw this bracelet… .” She waved the cuff. “This bracelet and I was looking at it and…” Swallowing she shifted to face her uncle fully. “You bought this for me?”

  “I went back the next day. Happy birthday,” he said solemnly.

  Layne held out her hand. “Let me see.”

  And it was all Jess could do to let go of it long enough to let Layne look at it.

  “Pretty,” Layne said, turning the bracelet this way and that. She handed it back to Jess who had to stop herself from clutching it to her chest the way that kid in the store last week had held on to his candy. As if afraid someone would snatch it away. “Good job, Chief. You can never go wrong with jewelry.”

  Jess was reeling. She couldn’t stop staring at it. He’d bought it for her over a month ago, had gone back and got it, made a special trip to buy it because he’d noticed she’d looked at it. Had figured out that she’d liked it. Wanted it.

  “Try it on,” Uncle Ross said, taking it from her and slipping it onto her wrist, his hand holding hers for the briefest of seconds. “Do you like it?” he asked sounding nervous. Unsure.

  Like it? She loved it. More than any gift she’d ever gotten. “It’s…” Perfect. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

  He linked his hands on the table on top of the morning paper. “Jess, I spoke with Grandma last night. She and your grandpa talked about it and they said if you want to, you can move back with them.”

  She froze. “They…they said that?”

  “There are a few stipulations of course,” he said quickly. “And your behavior would have to significantly improve but…yes, they said that.”

  Keeping her eyes down, she traced her fingertips over the bracelet’s design. “Oh.”

  “If that’s what you want, we can go to Boston next weekend.”

  Of course that’s what she wanted. It’s what she’d been wishing for ever since he brought her to Mystic Point.

  So why wasn’t she jumping up and down and insisting he take her there today?

  “Or…” he continued, drawing the word out, his voice sounding funny. Strained, as if he was afraid of her answer. “Or you could stay here. With me.” He sat back, kept his eyes on hers. “I’d really like it if you stayed. I want you to stay.”

  Her breath lodged in her chest. “You…you do?”

  “I do,” he said, sounding so sincere, she almost believed him. Almost.

  “You only want me to stay because you think it’s the right thing to do.”

  “That’s part of it,” he admitted and her stomach sank. “But mostly, I want you to stay because, even though you don’t need it, even though you don’t need me, I want to take care of you. You deserve someone to take care of you. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get on your case or punish you when you break one of my rules,” he added quickly, but surprisingly, it didn’t bring her down. Not when his earlier words had her feeling like she was floating. “But no matter what you do, I’m still going to want you to stay with me. I’m still going to want you in my life. I’m still going to want you. That won’t change.”

  Hope lit in her heart. She tried to douse it. After all, she was smart enough to doubt it, jaded enough to be terrified by it. But it kept burning, growing brighter and warmer until she had no choice but to accept it. To believe that maybe, just maybe this time, things could be different.

  She could be different.

  Besides, if she stayed, it’d be that much easier to get Anthony back.

  “Yeah, okay,” she agreed, running her fingertip over the bracelet. “I mean, I guess I can stick around. Since it seems to mean so much to you and all.”

  His lips twitched. “It does. Thank you,” he said, laying his hand over hers and squeezing her fingers gently.

  And for a second—really, just the briefest of mo
ments—she let him.

  But when she slid her hand away, he didn’t seem hurt or offended. More like…understanding.

  “Now that we’ve got that settled,” he said, “why don’t you bring Bobby in and take him upstairs while you get your stuff?” He shot an unreadable glance at Layne before turning his attention back to Jess. “And take your time. I’m not in any hurry.”

  “Ohh-kay,” Jess said, though she had no idea what that was supposed to mean. But then she noticed how he kept looking at Layne. And how Layne seemed to avoid looking back.

  Jess’s eyebrows shot up. Her uncle and Layne? She hadn’t seen that one coming. But the more she thought about it—and really, she tried not to think about it too hard because…well…eww—the more she realized it made perfect sense. Her uncle needed someone to help him see there was more to life than being a cop and that it was okay to let go of that hold he had on his precious control once in a while. And Layne needed someone to take care of her once in a while. God, she couldn’t believe she was actually thinking this, but they were made for each other.

  Wonder if they’ve figured that out yet?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I HAVE TO ADMIT,” Layne said after Jess led the dog out of the kitchen. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Didn’t think I had what in me?” Ross asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

  She waved a hand in the air then wrapped it around her coffee cup. “The whole sensitive male thing. But you nailed it. Now, the only question is—did you mean it? Or are you a better liar than I ever gave you credit for?”

  “I meant every word,” he said quietly. “I want Jess.” He leaned forward, noted the flare of wariness in her eyes, the way her breath hitched. “I want you, too.”

  Her smirk fell away as her mouth went lax. “What?”

  “I. Want. You.” And he wasn’t about to let her go without a fight. One her reaction so far told him he’d soon be embroiled in. “I want to have a relationship with you. I want us to be together.” He watched her from hooded eyes. “That clear things up?”

  “What?” she repeated but louder this time, her voice cracking. “That’s… You…” Shaking her head, she leaped to her feet, the sudden movement causing her chair to topple precariously before it settled on all four legs once again. “Oh, no. No.”

  She began to pace the length of the kitchen muttering under her breath about mistakes and men and idiotic ideas. He stretched his arms overhead then linked his hands behind his head and just watched her. No hardship that, not when she had on a pair of fuzzy, dark blue shorts and a clinging T-shirt the color of the summer sky. Her hair was down, her long legs bare and he would’ve liked nothing better than to take her upstairs, see if those shorts were as soft as they looked, if her skin was as warm as he remembered.

  But between his niece being upstairs and Layne doing her best to wear a trench in her hardwood floor, he didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

  “Why no?” he asked, stepping into her path so she either had to stop, or mow him down.

  Lucky for him, she chose the former. But she did look at him as if he’d lost a few brain cells at some point during the night. “Look, if this is about what happened the other night—”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  “Don’t pull that cop routine on me,” she snapped, all flustered and beautiful.

  “Not a routine,” he lied because of course it was. The technique of making a witness spell out exactly what she meant, to clarify every point by asking questions was something he did often. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

  She glared. “Fine.” She glanced at the empty hallway. “If this is about the other night when we had sex—”

  “Twice.”

  “I can count,” she said from between clenched teeth. “It…both times…was—”

  “It wasn’t a mistake,” he said lowly, hotly.

  She seemed startled. “No. Not a mistake. More like a one-time thing.”

  He edged closer, both amused and frustrated when stubborn, hold-her-ground-for-anything Layne Sullivan backed up a step. “What if we want more?”

  Hope, yearning, flashed in her eyes but then she lowered her gaze, firmed her mouth. “It won’t work. It could never work.”

  Though he wanted, badly, to touch her, he kept his hands at his sides. “Why not?”

  “You’re my superior officer for one thing. God.” She dragged her hands through her hair, held it back from her face. “What if it got around that we were…you know.”

  “Sleeping together?”

  “Seeing each other. I’d never live it down. Every time you assigned me a case or if I were up for a promotion or commendation, everyone would think it was because I earned it in your bed. And I’ve worked too hard for my coworkers’ respect to let that happen.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  She snorted.

  Worried she was going to rip the hair right out of her head, he encircled her wrists and tugged her hands down, held firm when she tried to break free. “What if we didn’t work together?” She went so still, stared at him silently for so long not so much as blinking, he shook her wrists. “Did you slip into a coma?”

  “You want me to risk my career?” she asked bristling, practically vibrating with outrage. “My reputation and position in the department for sex?”

  “No, damn it. I don’t want you to risk anything. And it’s not just sex. Not for me.” He ran the pad of his thumbs over the inside of her wrists. Felt her pulse jump. “I care about you, Layne. And you care about me.”

  Her tongued darted out to lick her lips. “Sure, I like you well enough—”

  “You’re crazy about me.”

  “Hey, now,” she said with a smirk, but her voice shook, “let’s not get delusions of grandeur.”

  “And I feel the same way about you.” She swallowed and dropped her gaze. He bent his head to look into her eyes. “Which is why I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.” Was ready to do whatever he had to to keep her in his life. “Including resigning as chief of police.”

  Her eyes went wide, her face drained of color. “No.” She yanked away from him and crossed her arms. “No. I don’t want you giving up your job for me. I don’t want you giving up anything for me.”

  He wondered at the panic in her voice, the vehemence. “It wouldn’t be for you. It would be for us. And it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I’m putting you first,” he said softly, echoing her words to him last night.

  But instead of seeming happy, relieved that he understood what she wanted, what she needed from him, she just looked scared. “I’m sorry. I am. But I just don’t think I can—”

  “Look me in the eye,” he demanded gruffly, taking hold of her upper arms even as he felt his chance, felt her slipping through his fingers. “Look at me and tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t want to be with me. If you can do that, I’ll walk out of here and we’ll never speak of this again.” Reaching up, he touched her cheek, slid her hair behind her ear, prayed she would choose him. That she’d take a chance on him. “Is that what you want, Layne? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

  * * *

  LAYNE COULDN’T ANSWER, could barely draw in a breath, not when Ross stood so close, his eyes searching, his expression somber. He was so handsome, so honorable and so damned good. He’d come through for Jess in a big way, was willing to make sacrifices for those he cared about, was willing to change, to work for what he wanted.

  Do you want me to leave you alone?

  No one had ever asked her that before. Not her mother when she’d chosen Dale. Not her father who still chose life on the sea. She was always left alone.

  But this time, the choice was up to her.

  “I don’t know if I can be with you,” she said, her voice hoarse. She felt too much when they were together. Wanted too much. It scared her to death.

  “I can’t promise things w
ill always go smoothly, or that we’ll ride off into the sunset together,” he said, his accent becoming heavier, making it sound like togetha. “But I can promise that you can trust me with your heart.” He slipped his hand behind her head, his words strong and sure. “I won’t hurt you, Layne.”

  No, he wouldn’t hurt her.

  But how could she be sure she wouldn’t hurt him?

  She pulled his hand from her head, stepped back and crossed her arms. “I’m no good at this sort of thing. I’m too stubborn and I want everything my own way and I’m bossy and arrogant. I don’t trust easily, I’ve never been in a long-term relationship and I come with a boatload of baggage.” Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he understand she wasn’t for him? “You don’t want to be with me.”

  “I think I’m capable of deciding who I do or don’t want to be with,” he said, sounding as though he was quickly losing patience. That’s what she did. She pushed too hard. Always pushed too far.

  “And you’re right,” he said. “You’re all those things, not to mention cocky and argumentative. But you’re also loyal and loving and funny and smart and one of the best cops I’ve had the pleasure of working with. And when I touch you,” he continued relentlessly, stalking toward her until she was backed into the corner by the sink, “when I kiss you, I see my future.” He picked up her hand, raised it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss in her palm. Met her eyes. “Be with me, Layne. Be my future.”

  She wanted to. So much she could almost see that future, see them together—today, tomorrow, always—sharing their lives. But it was an illusion, she thought, tugging her hand free. Because that’s not how it worked. Relationships were imbalanced, imperfect. There was always one person giving. The other taking. She couldn’t be like her father, loving someone to the point of self-destruction.

  Would rather die than be as needy, as selfish as her mother.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw, her hands linked in front of her. “I’m so sorry.”

  His expression hardened but it did nothing to disguise the hurt in his eyes. Pain she’d caused. He nodded stiffly. “I’ll see myself out.”