When He Returns

by Kimberly Rae Jordan

  “That’s a great idea,” Dalton said. “I hope she takes your advice.”

  “Well, with all my work with kids, I’ve found that for most, preparing them ahead of time can be helpful.”

  “I’ll be curious to hear how it goes.”

  After Sierra promised to let him know, she hesitated for a moment then said, “I’m sorry…about tonight.”

  Dalton gave her a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. You can’t help the way you feel.”

  “I know, but—”

  He held up his hand. “No buts. It’s fine.”

  Unfortunately, as soon as he’d said goodnight and stepped into his apartment, he realized it wasn’t fine, not really. But he also realized that he’d made a huge mistake in thinking that Sierra would ever consider a relationship with him.

  First of all, he’d ignored her as a teen when she’d had a crush on him. It was a wonder that she’d even talked to him when he came back for the wedding. And it was no surprise that she was looking long term while he was stuck with short term vision.

  What had he been thinking?

  Dalton sighed as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a drink from the fridge. He’d been thinking that Sierra made him feel better when his cravings were at their worst. She made him feel strong when his brain told him he was weak.

  Too late, he realized that it was all about what she did for him. Definitely selfish on his part. Even from only really getting to know her over the past couple of months, he knew that what he had to offer her—namely his fame and fortune—were things she didn’t care about. He’d been a complete and total idiot to not think more about what he could do for her than what she did for him.

  But it was done now.

  All that was left was for him to try and uphold his promise to her.

  Sierra helped Ethan get more comfortable in the bed once they’d elevated it a bit.

  “I really hate this,” he said slowly. He was definitely improving physically, but his speech was still slow, and he struggled with words sometimes.

  She wasn’t entirely sure if he was referring to something specific or just everything in general. He was looking better, although the kids would probably be shocked at his bald head. As soon as he’d realized part of his head was shaved, he’d told Makayla he wanted all of his hair gone.

  “Seeing the kids will make you feel better,” Sierra said, knowing for a fact that that would be the case. Ethan lived for his family.

  “Maybe, but how will seeing me make them feel?”

  “You’re their dad, and it’s been awhile since they’ve last seen you. They have asked to come visit you, so I think they’ll be okay.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Ethan muttered as she adjusted the pillow behind his shoulders.

  Sierra dropped a kiss on his head, grateful that he was distracted by the kids’ visit so he didn’t pay too much attention to her. She’d spent a restless night questioning if she’d done the right thing with Dalton.

  Which was ridiculous because she knew she had. There was no way it would have been a good decision to shift their relationship from friends to something more. And it wasn’t just because of where Dalton was in his life.

  “Do you want me to do anything else before they come?”

  Ethan sighed. “Do you have any…makeup in your…uh…purse?”

  His hesitation over certain words wasn’t as upsetting as it had been in the beginning when he’d struggled with a lot more words. He sometimes said the wrong words too, which she was sure was the case in this situation.

  “Makeup?” Sierra asked as she moved around so she could see him directly.

  “Yeah. To cover this,” he said, waving a hand at his face.

  “Oh. To cover your bruises.”

  He tilted his head as his brows pulled together. “Well, I don’t want to use stuff on my lashes.”

  Sierra couldn’t help but laugh, happy to see that under everything, her brother’s sense of humor still lingered. “I’m sorry, E. You know I don’t wear a lot of makeup. You’d do better diving into Makayla’s purse.”

  “Not if I want to keep my hand.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

  Sierra laughed again then said, “If you want, I’ll bring you some concealer and a wig tomorrow. Would you like to try being a blond?”

  “I hear they have more fun,” Ethan responded.

  “Oh my goodness,” Sierra gasped out in between a fit of giggles. She knew it wasn’t that funny, but she was so glad to be sharing humorous moments with Ethan when she hadn’t been sure they’d ever get to that point again. Now it was such a relief to see his sense of humor was still intact, even in the midst of a serious moment.

  She pressed her cheek against the sandpaper roughness of his head and let out a long exhale. “I love you, Ethan.”

  He managed to lift his hand to touch her cheek. “I love you, too.”

  “Don’t scare me like this ever again,” she whispered. “You’re not allowed.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said, his voice gruff.

  They stayed that way for a couple of minutes before voices outside the door had Sierra straightening even as she felt the tension increase in Ethan’s shoulders. The door swung open to let Makayla and the kids into the room.

  Sierra stepped back to allow them to greet Ethan, relieved that there didn’t seem to be any hesitation from them as they approached his bed. Watching the kids eagerly talk over each other, she wasn’t sure if she should stay or go. She and Makayla hadn’t discussed that ahead of time, but Sierra felt that maybe this was a time for their family to be reunited. She’d had her time with Ethan, and she’d have more in the days ahead. If Makayla needed her, she was just a text away.

  In the meantime, Sierra headed for the waiting room just down the hallway from Ethan’s room. It was the nicest of the waiting rooms they’d spent time in since the accident. The paint was a nice soft peach with dark green accents. There was a flat screen TV along one wall and along another were large windows. Of course, they didn’t look out over anything spectacular. Just the street and some buildings.

  It was currently empty, so Sierra had her pick of seats. She chose one near the window that allowed her to see the street. It was busy, with plenty of cars moving in both directions. There were also plenty of people walking on the sidewalks.

  She slipped her shoes off and settled sideways in the chair, drawing her legs up so she could wrap her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she stared out the window. Though she wanted to think about Ethan and Makayla and the kids, she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts on them.

  Instead, they kept going to Dalton and what had gone on the previous evening between them. Though he’d brushed it off, she was sure that it hadn’t been easy for him to hear her rejection of his attempt to take their friendship to a deeper level. He hadn’t texted her yet that day, but he had said he had appointments, which wasn’t unusual for him.

  If the events of the night before hadn’t occurred, she would have been texting him about Ethan’s humor that morning and letting him know that the kids were with Ethan right then. She’d all but demanded that he not let what had happened between them impact their friendship, but here she was the one doing just that.

  If she would have texted him before last night, she couldn’t let those events stop her from texting him now. It was going to take effort on the part of each of them to keep their friendship going despite what had happened.

  Sierra pulled her phone out and stared at it, remembering the moment Dalton had given it to her. She’d already shared how he’d done it with Ethan when he’d noticed she had a new phone and had asked exactly how long he’d been unconscious. She lifted the phone and pressed the rounded corner against her lips, trying to figure out why she felt she had to work up the nerve to text him.

  After a couple of minutes, she lowered the phone and unlocked it with her thumb—another neat feature her old phone hadn’t had. After another brief hesitation
, during which she continued to lecture herself about not being the one to make their friendship awkward, she tapped out a message for him.

  Sitting in the waiting room while the kids and Makayla spend time with Ethan.

  She pressed send then waited. Minutes passed without a response, but given he had appointments scheduled, it was possible he wasn’t able to reply right away.

  Had a good laugh with Ethan a little bit ago. I was so worried that he’d lose his sense of humor or forget the things that we laughed over, but it doesn’t appear to be the case. So very grateful for that answer to prayer.

  There was still no response, so Sierra didn’t send another text. She didn’t want him to be getting a slew of texts while he was in his appointment. He’d respond when he could—she hoped.

  She remembered Dalton’s words of the night before, but not the ones where he’d essentially asked her out on a date. No, what her mind kept focusing in on was his promise that things wouldn’t change. Though she was sure that he’d meant what he said, the very fact that Sierra herself was struggling with keeping things the way they had been told her that most likely, Dalton was struggling even more.

  If he couldn’t follow through on his promise, would her efforts alone be enough to keep their friendship going? And if he did slip up on his promise to maintain their friendship, would she be strong enough to call him on it? Or would she just let what they’d built over the last couple of months fade away?

  Sierra closed her eyes as she let out a long sigh. She didn’t want to lose Dalton as a friend. At first, she’d welcomed his presence because of Danica’s distraction with JD, but now he held a place in her life all of his own. She didn’t want to imagine a life without him. Unfortunately, she had a feeling that if they couldn’t hold a friendship together, he wouldn’t be much a part of her life at all.

  So she’d give him some space to accept that things between them wouldn’t be changing the way he’d hoped, but she didn’t think she’d be able to give him that space indefinitely unless he specifically asked her to.

  Sierra just prayed he didn’t do that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Pounding at his door dragged Dalton from sleep. Groaning, he pushed himself to an upright position, his muscles protesting the awkward position he’d been sleeping in. He wasn’t surprised to see that he’d fallen asleep on the couch yet again. His guitar lay on the floor with the television remote beside it. His notebook lay open on the coffee table, words scrawled across the pages in dark ink. Also on the coffee table were empty soda cans and bags of chips.

  All of it evidence of how he’d spent the last few days.

  When the pounding came again, Dalton got to his feet and made his way to the door. He moved his head in a circle a few times to work out the kinks in his neck that had developed as a result of being bent over his guitar and notebook for hours, followed by a couple of nights sleeping on the couch.

  “Hang on,” he muttered as yet a third round of knocking came. He braced himself for a lecture from Danica and jerked the door open. Only it wasn’t her standing there. “Sierra?”

  “You promised,” Sierra said, a frown marring her usually serene expression. The frown deepened as her gaze moved from his face all the way down to his feet then back up again. “Are you okay?”

  Dalton reached a hand up to run it through his hair, only to encounter the headband he’d dug out of his stuff from the rehab center. He was in bad need of a haircut, but that was low on his priority list. So instead of going out to get one, he’d resorted to an old habit from when he’d had long hair, to keep the strands out of his face while he worked on his music.

  “I’m fine,” Dalton said as he turned away from the door. “Just been working on music again.”

  Funny how love and heartache had opened the floodgate of words and music for him.

  Dalton ran a hand down his face, pausing briefly at a familiar sensation against his palm. He never grew his beard beyond some scruff. The only time it had been longer was when he was too high or drunk to care enough to maintain it. This was way beyond scruff. This wasn’t far from full on beard status. Had it really been that long since he’d taken the time to care for his beard?

  Glancing down at his rumpled T-shirt and cotton sleep pants, Dalton could only guess that it had been.

  “You promised me, Dalton,” Sierra said again.

  He turned to face her, seeing she’d come into his apartment, though his door still stood open. “What day is it?”

  “What day is it?” Sierra’s expression morphed into worry. “Why don’t you know what day it is?”

  Because he’d been busy writing songs about her and the heartache of her rejection. Of course, he wasn’t going to say that to her. “I’ve been a bit immersed in my music.”

  He turned back to his mess and went over to begin cleaning up the empty chip bags and soda cans. It wasn’t unusual for him to let the world slide into chaos around him when the music drew him in. The only reason he hadn’t lived in a complete pit in Toronto was because he’d had a housekeeping service which came in every couple of days to clean up his mess. And of course, there had been Jesse who’d prod him into showering and getting out of the apartment if his reclusive episodes began to stretch out too long.

  The reality was that he hadn’t been just busy with his music. He’d been nursing a bruised heart, after all. So there had been lots of sleeping along with TV watching. And he may, or may not, have watched You’ve Got Mail a time or two, along with a few other romantic movies. When he’d tired of watching people fall in love, he’d binge-watched true crime shows. From love to murder and mayhem then back to music again.

  Basically he had just avoided the world using methods that were better than the drugs and alcohol he would have turned to at one point. But still, avoidance was avoidance. Not that he hadn’t been dealing with those cravings that week along with everything else, but at least he’d managed to resist the temptation to give in.

  “Time got away from me,” Dalton said as he dumped his garbage into the can under the sink.

  “A whole week?”

  He straightened and turned to face her. “A week, eh?”

  “Yeah, a week.” Sierra crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Is it common for you to lose a week’s time?”

  “Not without the help of drugs.” He sent a look her way as he returned to the living room and stacked up the couple of notebooks he’d been using. “And no, I haven’t been using drugs.”

  “I didn’t say anything about that,” Sierra said. “I’m just worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Seriously. This is how the music takes over sometimes.”

  “That can’t be healthy,” Sierra said. “Have you had a decent meal this week?”

  Dalton was glad that she hadn’t said healthy because then he’d have to say no. But decent? Canned chicken noodle soup counted as decent, didn’t it? Oh, he’d also gotten a rotisserie chicken with the groceries he’d had delivered early in the week.

  “I have.” He put his guitar over by the piano. “But you’re right, it isn’t healthy for me to let the music take over the way it does.”

  “So you’re really okay?”

  Dalton paused at the concern in Sierra’s voice. “I am.”

  Looking at Sierra standing there, looking like a breath of fresh air in a pair of fitted jeans and a light pink shirt, in contrast to his rumpled, dirty appearance, Dalton knew that he needed to straighten up. He had to find a different way of dealing with the tensions when his music and emotions wanted to take over.

  He was a grown man. It was time to start acting like one.

  Sierra hadn’t been sure what to make of Dalton the day she’d finally caved and gone to his apartment after having not seen or heard from him in almost a week. He’d texted her back that first day in response to her texts about Ethan, and things had seemed normal enough. But then he hadn’t initiated any texts after that, nor had he replied to any she’d sent af
ter the first day with anything but one or two word responses.

  Between work and time with Makayla and Ethan, she’d put off contacting him even though she’d been concerned as the week had progressed. Danica had been busy with preparations for the new school year, so Sierra hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet about what had happened between her and Dalton.

  The moment she’d seen Dalton’s rumpled appearance, Sierra had worried that he’d relapsed. However, his eyes had been clear, and his speech had been coherent. Though the air had smelled a little stale, there was no telltale smell of smoke or alcohol. So, she took him at his word, and when he texted to say he was making dinner for their group a couple of nights later, she breathed a sigh of relief and agreed to show up.

  Given how well Ethan was doing, Sierra was back on her normal shift schedule which meant she was glad to enjoy a meal she didn’t have to cook at the end of the day. There had been no breakfasts on the landing, however.

  The first thing she noticed when she arrived in Dalton’s apartment that evening was that it smelled good, and it was all cleaned up. He’d also gotten a hair cut, and his facial hair was back to stubble length instead of the beard he’d been sporting earlier that week.

  He greeted her with a smile—the kind he would have given her prior to that fateful evening—and soon they were all seated at the table in their regular seats. While she had expected Dalton to be awkward about things, Sierra was the one who struggled to act normally.

  Though she managed to hold up her end of the conversation, Sierra found herself pleading tiredness almost as soon as they were finished their dessert. No one questioned her because she was usually the first one to bail on their evenings together anyway, especially on a day she had worked a shift with another one the following day.

  The next evening, when she heard a knock on her door, Sierra was slow to answer it, not sure what to do if it was Dalton. To her surprise, it was Danica who stood outside her door.