by Beth Andrews
Layne turned so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk away from her. Stared blindly out the window above the sink as he called up the stairs for Jess then shut the door quietly behind them as they left. And that was that. He was out of her life.
Bobby came into the kitchen and, as if sensing her mood, whined, nudging her leg with his head. Layne didn’t move. Just stood there, her eyes dry, her heart breaking as she tried to convince herself she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted.
* * *
IT WAS HERE. FINALLY.
If Jess hadn’t been weaving her way through the café’s packed dining room with a plastic bin filled with dirty dishes, she would’ve done a cartwheel. Not that she knew how to do a cartwheel, but still…
Today was something to celebrate because after two weeks of being grounded, she’d reached Freedom Day.
Or, as Uncle Ross liked to call it, The Start of Parole.
Pushing open the door to the noisy, bustling kitchen, Jess gave a mental shrug. Whatever. Hey, she’d survived two weeks without her phone, laptop or iPod. With limited access to the TV and nightly dinners with her uncle. And really, if she could survive his cooking, she could get through anything.
She set the dishes on the counter, avoided making eye contact with Luke, who still couldn’t manage to look above her neck when he tried talking to her. Smiled at Joe, who sent her a wink then went back to whistling along to some old rock song on the radio.
“Order up, Jess,” Celeste said, ringing the bell.
“Got it,” Jess said, swinging back through the door to take the plates from the other side of the window. After setting the plates on her tray, she picked it up with two hands. While she may have gotten better and better at her job, she still lacked the skill to balance a full tray with one hand.
But at least she’d learned if she was actually pleasant and solicitous, she got bigger tips.
Luckily it was easy to be both with Mr. and Mrs. Lombardo, an elderly couple who came in several times a week for breakfast. She delivered their food, promised Mr. Lombardo she’d bring him extra cream for his coffee and headed toward the back to pick up a menu before crossing to one of the booths in the corner.
“Hi,” Jess said, handing a pretty brunette, only a few years older than her, a menu. “I’m Jess. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“I’ll have coffee,” she said with an easy smile. “And could you bring another menu? I’m meeting someone.”
“No problem.”
Jess grabbed another menu and kept it tucked under her arm while she got Mr. Lombardo’s cream, took an order from a family of five and offered coffee refills to two of her tables before making her way back to the booth, the coffeepot in hand.
And about dropped the damn thing on the tile floor when she saw who was with the pretty brunette.
“Anthony.”
She hadn’t realized she’d said his name aloud until he faced her, the look in his eyes arctic. She blushed furiously. Cleared her throat as she poured the brunette’s coffee.
“Coffee?” she asked him, her gaze on the table.
Instead of answering, he flipped the upside-down coffee cup right-side-up. She poured then, still not looking at him, handed him the menu as the brunette’s phone played LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It”.
“Oops,” she said, checking the caller ID. She rolled her big brown eyes. “Sorry, it’s my mom.”
Anthony smiled at her. “No problem.”
“I’ll be right back.” Sliding out of the booth, the brunette held her phone up to one ear, covered the other one with her hand and answered her call.
Jess watched her go, envied her for her glossy hair and flowy summer dress. For her ability to walk in those gorgeous high heels and for her designer purse.
Envied her for being with Anthony. For being on the receiving end of his smiles.
Jess shifted. Anthony still wouldn’t look at her. “I…uh…I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”
He nodded, his jaw tight, his brow lowered.
And she wanted to scream. To rail at him to look at her. To stop pretending he hadn’t liked her, hadn’t kissed her and told her she was pretty. She whirled on her heel only to spin back around.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted breathlessly. “Please, Anthony, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t,” he said, his lips barely moving. “Not here. Not now.”
But she knew she had to do this now, while she had the chance. She slid into the booth, set the pot on the table.
He bristled. “I’m not interested—”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, leaning forward, “for lying about my age. It wasn’t a trick or a joke.”
“No? What was it?”
“I just…I really liked you. And I wanted, for once, to have something good in my life.” Her heart raced, her palms were damp. She tucked her hands under the edge of the table onto her lap. “With you I didn’t…I didn’t feel so…alone. And I just…I really wanted that to last.” She held her breath but he didn’t say anything so she barreled on. “For so long it was like I was going down this dark road and the farther I went, the darker it got until it surrounded me and I…I got lost,” she admitted on a whisper. “Until I met you.”
“You lied to me,” he said fiercely, glancing around before shifting forward. “You made me look like an idiot. Made me—” He pressed his lips together, shook his head. “What do you want from me?”
The only thing she could ever get from him. What she didn’t deserve. “I want you to forgive me,” she said, unable to stop her eyes from welling with tears.
“Don’t,” he said, looking disgusted. With her. “You don’t get to cry. Not after what you did.” He straightened, his expression hard. “You want forgiveness? Talk to a priest because I’m not ready to absolve you of anything. Not yet. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave before my date gets back.”
Numb, Jess slid to the edge of the seat and picked up the coffeepot. “I am sorry,” she said again, softly this time as she stood there feeling awkward and so unsure of herself. “I’m sorry I lied about my age but that’s the only thing I lied about. My…feelings for you? Those were the truth. Just as it’s true that when I was with you, I felt more like myself than I ever have in my entire life.”
A muscle worked in his cheek and he lowered his head, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. She waited…she waited for what seemed like hours but was probably only a minute.
He didn’t look up.
Her throat tight, she walked away, kept it together until she reached the restroom, only then did she let her tears fall.
* * *
“I DON’T CARE WHO is on the other side of that door,” Layne told Bobby with her most serious tone, “you are not to jump on them. Do you understand?”
Bobby barked twice, leaped into the air then barked again upon landing.
Clearly they had a communication problem.
Layne opened her front door. “Ross,” she said, so surprised to see him standing there, the afternoon sun glinting off his badge, his hair recently trimmed, that Bobby raced past her. “Bobby,” she said, snapping her fingers. “No.”
“Heel,” Ross ordered in his deep and yes, commanding voice.
Bobby heeled.
“What are you?” she muttered half impressed, half irritated. “The dog whisperer?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your Saturday off, Captain. But I need to speak with you.”
He hadn’t called her by her name since he’d walked out of her house two weeks ago. Hadn’t spoken to her, looked at her, with anything other than professional courtesy and respect. Hadn’t smiled at her once.
It was exactly what she’d wanted when she’d sent him on his way.
She hated it.
“Well then,” she said, moving aside and gesturing widely, “by all means, do come on in. Chief.”
Ross stepped inside and instantly the foyer felt crowded. Intimate. She ste
pped back, pretended she just wanted to lean against the wall. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked as Bobby sniffed Ross’s shoes.
“No, thank you.”
Him being there made her edgy and nervous and reminded her of what she’d thrown away. The chance to have him in her life, to possibly have that future—that bright, fictional future he’d proposed. One where she wasn’t alone, where she had a partner to lean on, to share her burdens with. Someone to celebrate the good times with and hold her hand when things got bad.
What a fantasy. She was too responsible, too sensible to believe in it. Even if she did find herself wishing she could.
Crossing her arms, she lifted her chin. “If this is about that defense attorney’s claim that I didn’t have the proper warrant—”
“It’s not.” He took off his sunglasses, hooked them onto his pocket. “It’s about your mother’s murder investigation.”
Her heart stopped only to resume its natural rhythm with a vengeance. “Did you find him?” she asked, afraid to hope but wanting so badly to do just that. “Did you find Dale?”
“No.” His expression softened, his voice gentled. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded numbly. In the past two weeks there had been no new leads, nothing at all to point to Dale York’s whereabouts. And while her father and sisters still believed Valerie’s killer would be found, Layne knew better.
Life didn’t always have happy endings.
And chances were, her mother’s murder would never be solved.
Her head spun, her knees went weak so that she started sliding down the length of the wall. “I’m okay,” she said when Ross reached out to steady her. He immediately dropped his hands and stepped back and she could’ve bitten her tongue. But she didn’t need anyone’s support. Never had.
“The case will remain open,” he said. “We’ll keep searching for Dale.”
“Even if you do find him, there’s no guarantee you’ll find enough evidence to convict him…hell…to bring him to trial for Mom’s murder.”
“No. There’s no guarantee,” he said in his calm, rational way as his phone buzzed. “There are never any guarantees. But that’s no reason to give up. Or not move forward. Excuse me,” he said, clicking on his phone. “Chief Taylor.”
There are never any guarantees. But that’s no reason to give up. Or not move forward.
“Are Keira’s parents going to be home?” he asked whoever was on the other end of the line—Jess obviously. “And you’ll stay there all night? No going out?” Pause. “Why don’t you give me Keira’s parents’ number?” Another pause, a longer one that had Ross pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I think we’ve already established that I’m anal.” He exhaled heavily. “It has nothing to do with not trusting you and everything to do with trying to help you make the right choices on your first night of freedom in two weeks.” Pause. “No, just text me the number when you’re done with work. And, Jess? Thanks.”
“Keira’s a good kid,” Layne said as he put the phone back in his pocket.
He slid her an unreadable glance. “I’m sure she is.”
“She is.” Layne winced. Okay, she’d already said that. Because she had no idea what to do with her hands, she snapped her fingers for Bobby. Scratched his head when he sat by her feet. “If you want, I could call Keira’s dad. Andy works with my brother-in-law…my ex-brother-in-law over at—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Right,” she couldn’t stop herself from snapping. “Because that would be crossing that boundary again, the one between professional and personal.”
His eyes narrowed. “I seem to recall you’re the one who wanted that boundary back firmly in place.”
She was. She did. She just hadn’t realized how hard it would be to keep from leaping over it. Hadn’t realized how much she’d miss him.
“Would you like me to accompany you while you inform your family about the status of the investigation?” he asked, back to being all-cop.
She laughed harshly. “God, no. I think I can handle it on my own.”
His expression didn’t change. “I’m sure you can.” He crossed to the door, opened it and paused. “I want you to know,” he said quietly, “I’m not giving up.”
Her heart stuttered. She swallowed in an attempt to work moisture back into her mouth. “You’re not?”
“No. No matter what, I’ll keep looking for your mother’s murderer.”
He meant the case. Not that he wasn’t giving up on her.
She could’ve cried.
“I appreciate that,” she said.
With one last, unreadable look, he walked out.
There are never any guarantees. But that’s no reason to give up. Or not move forward.
She stiffened as his words ran through her mind. No, he wouldn’t give up. But she did. She always gave up instead of fighting for what she wanted. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. She’d let him leave. Again.
Oh, God.
“Wait,” she cried, flinging open the door. Bobby barked and raced after her as she flew down the front walk, the concrete warm on her bare feet. “Ross!”
He was already pulling away from the curb. Frantic, knowing only that she had to get to him, that this time she had to stop him, she leaped over the low bushes lining her yard, crossed the sidewalk and jumped out into the street.
He stopped the vehicle inches from hitting her, tires squealing, his door opening before he’d come to a complete stop. “Are you insane?” he yelled as he stalked up to her. Him. Chief Cool, Calm and Collected Taylor was yelling at her. It was great. “I could’ve killed you!”
She bent forward, tried to catch her breath. “I want…to move…forward.”
He scowled at her, no longer stoic. No longer impassive. “What?”
“You were right,” she said, straightening to meet his eyes. “I am crazy about you. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”
“No.” He shook his head, his posture rigid. “No. You don’t get to do this to me. Not again.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Bobby raced around them, quivering with excitement. “I was just…God…I was so scared. Am so scared.” And admitting that was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. But Ross was worth the hard. Worth any sacrifice she had to make because she knew he’d sacrifice anything for her, too.
“I’m so tired of not moving forward,” she continued, clutching his hand, emboldened, hopeful when he didn’t tug away. “It seems like I’ve been at a standstill all my life, living in my mother’s house, waiting for her to come back…” She had to stop. To swallow past the tears thickening her voice. “I don’t need a guarantee or for everything to be perfect. All I need…all I want…is you.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “Layne, I don’t—”
“Please,” she whispered, knuckling away a tear. But she stood on her own two feet and she looked into the eyes of the man she loved and she knew she was making the right decision. “I know I can handle whatever happens with Mom’s case on my own, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I love you, Ross. You offered to be my future and I was too stubborn, too scared to accept. Please don’t tell me I’m too late.”
He wiped moisture from her cheek with the pad of his thumb then cupped her face in his large, warm hand. “I love you, too. And I’ll be your future, as long as you promise to always be mine.”
Her heart leaped with joy, with a relief so profound she couldn’t catch her breath. Then Ross kissed her and she forgot all about breathing, all about anything, everything except him.
When he leaned back, she smiled at him and linked her hands around his neck. “I can definitely promise you that.”
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459230828
Copyright © 2012 by Beth Burgoon
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