The Book Babes Boxed Set (Texas Ties/Texas Troubles/Texas Together)

by Jean Brashear

  “Don’t say it, Ava.” He ground out the words. “Don’t say something you’ll regret. Luisa needs me. I have to go now or I’ll be late.” Turning, he headed for the door.

  But she couldn’t let him go, couldn’t drop this. Not now, not when the doubts were swirling higher than ever. “What about me? What about how I need you?”

  He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her. “Do you? Do you, really?”

  Her heart went still. “How can you even ask?”

  “I don’t know—maybe because you’re so wrapped up in your career you’ve stopped noticing anyone else?”

  “That’s not fair. I pay attention.”

  “Oh, really? Did you know that they’re trying to replace me as lead counsel?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? Why?”

  “Never mind. It would take too long to catch you up. I have to go.”

  But she couldn’t let him drop that bombshell and just leave. “I’m going with you.”

  He glanced at his watch. “You have to catch a plane in three hours. You can’t risk it.”

  She wanted to scream in frustration, but he was right. Her agent had called the previous afternoon, ecstatic that she’d finally been able to book Ava on the Carol Chase Show. Ava was a last-minute substitute, but the opportunity was a gold mine, far too good to pass up. Only if Ava were dying could she skip this.

  Her thoughts whirling, she glanced up to see Tom’s gaze measuring her. As if satisfied that he’d already known her answer, he nodded, his brown eyes sadder than she’d ever seen them.

  “I—” She turned up her hands. “I—we could be back in time, right?”

  Tom grimaced and shook his head, his shoulders sinking in resignation. “I can’t guarantee that. Go on—go back to bed. If I can’t get back before you leave, I’ll call to tell you what’s going on.”

  The deepest part of her whispered that if she let him go like this, the damage might be irreparable. “Tom, I—” She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted a way out.

  He crossed to her then, something in his eyes she’d never seen before, something she couldn’t name. With one hand, he cupped her face, lowering his lips to hers. “It’s a big deal for you, this show. Go on—and knock ’em dead.” Then he kissed her, but it was like no kiss he’d ever bestowed on her before. Something was different.

  At the door he stopped, his hand on the knob, his voice so low that she could barely hear him. “I told you there’s always a price. While your star is rising, most of us are already headed downhill. Don’t judge the rest of us by how you feel, Ava—not Ellie, not Luisa, not me.” Then he turned just enough that she could see his profile, could realize how her firebrand was aging.

  “Don’t rush to judgment, Ava. Not until you’ve walked in another man’s shoes.” He smiled, but it was a smile full of sadness. “Knock ’em dead, babe. And hurry home.”

  She followed him to the outside door. “I love you, Tom. I’ll cancel if you want me to.”

  He shook his head. “This is something you want, something that answers a need in you that I can’t. But I love you. I’m in your corner. Don’t forget that.”

  With that, he was gone.

  It wasn’t until later, much later as she stood with her bag and waited for the cab instead of lying sleepless in the bed that smelled of him that Ava realized what it was in that kiss he’d given her that was so different.

  It was distance. From her. His kiss tasted of goodbye.

  The cabbie honked the horn, and Ava jerked out of the sudden sharp stab of terror and grabbed her bags. She’d be back tonight. Surely nothing could go that wrong between now and then. When she got back home, they’d talk. Straighten things out. It wasn’t hopeless. The goodbye in his kiss might be her writer’s imagination again.

  When she stumbled going down the stairs, she blamed it on the rain instead of eyes too clouded with tears to see where to go next.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry. Is Ava angry?”

  Tom’s jaw hardened. “We argued. It’s not your fault.”

  “Tom, I—” Just then, the door opened. Luisa could see her son’s shoulders stiffen the moment he saw her, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

  Tom must have read her mind. “Easy,” he murmured, clasping her arm in his big hand. “He’s scared half to death.”

  She looked closer and saw that Tom was right. Carlos looked like he had at five when he’d left his bike behind the car and Ramon had run over it. Luisa drew in a deep breath and prayed for the right words.

  Tom saved them both. He clapped a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and drew him close, giving him the hug she knew her son would reject from her. For one brief moment, he relaxed against Tom, his eyes closing slightly, his face revealing how vulnerable he felt.

  And for that moment, she wished, traitorous thought or not, that Tom were not another woman’s husband. That she had a right to those strong arms, to that broad chest, to the enormous inner strength of him. Just to rest against him, to let him help her figure out what to do with this troubled child… just for a while. Until she could figure out where she’d gone so wrong.

  “Carlos, you can’t go back to Ramon’s house.” She couldn’t have picked a worse starting point, she saw instantly. His hackles were almost visible.

  “He needs me.”

  “He’s using you. Can’t you see that? He’s the one who stole those goods, isn’t he?”

  “Mom, they’re not stolen. It’s just some stuff he traded for and I told him I’d take them to this guy for him.”

  “Carlito, can’t you see anything? Can’t you tell what he really is? He’s a liar and a con man, a drunk, a man who beats women and children, a man who—”

  “Luisa, calm down.” Tom’s voice snapped her out of the spiraling anger.

  She looked around them, saw the curious faces, saw Carlos’s look of hatred. Heart pounding as if to leap from her chest, she felt like she was looking at a stranger and not her son. Not the boy she’d known.

  “What has he done to you?” she whispered. “My poor Carlito—” Luisa reached out for her son, to fold him into her arms.

  Carlos jerked away as if burned. “Don’t touch me. You hate him, you always have. You don’t see what you’ve done to him.”

  “Done to him?” she screeched. “What about what he has done to me? What about the bruises, the blood? The times I let him take me like an animal so he would leave my children alone? You dare to talk to me like this, you spoiled little brat—”

  Tom grasped her arm, keeping a tight hold on both of them, and ushered them both from the room, out into the parking lot.

  When they were outside, she and her son squared off like the enemies Ramon was making of them, chests heaving with emotion, anger running high and hot. Carlos jerked out of Tom’s hold and glared at her. “I’ll never come back to your house. You don’t care. You don’t understand. He needs me. You’ve left him with nothing. You’re why he’s drinking again. I’m trying to help.”

  Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell? “He’s using you, Carlos. To get back at me. He doesn’t love you—he’s incapable of real love.”

  Nothing she could have said could be worse. Carlos’s voice went high like a much-younger boy. “He loves me. It was you—you who kept us apart all these years. You hate men. You hate him, and you’ll do anything to keep us apart, even tell me lies about him. He loves me, and you’re lying!”

  Luisa gripped her hair in both hands, pulling so hard that tears sprang from her eyes though she never felt the pain. A keening wail rose from her throat, a sound she’d never heard from herself before.

  The sound of a mother who has lost her child.

  The sound of a woman all alone.

  “Stop it, Carlos. Both of you. Before you can’t repair the damage.” Tom turned to her, grasping her shoulders, then pulling her close, rocking her slightly while she shuddered. While her heart cracked into pieces. “Shh…” he murmured. “Jus
t slow down. Take a deep breath.”

  Luisa leaned against his chest, feeling his arms around her. Wanting to stay there until the world returned from its madness. “I’m leaving.”

  Tom held her tightly, speaking over his shoulder. “I’ll drive you back.”

  “No—” She jerked back. “He has to come home—”

  Tom looked down at her, speaking softly. “I’ll bring him back to you, but for right now, I want some time to calm him down. Can you get yourself home or shall I call a cab?”

  A shudder ran through her. Behind Tom, her son stood, his gaze filled with anguish. And hatred. And confusion. Much as she wanted to be the one to soothe him, she knew she could not. She’d done too much damage with hasty words. Fingers digging into Tom’s back, she leaned against him once more, drawing a deep breath and grasping for the shreds of her composure. Through sheer will, she forced her fingers to let go of Tom and stepped back.

  She gazed at her son, this child of her heart. Wrapped her arms around her middle and tried not to fly into a million tiny pieces. “I’m—I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know—”

  Carlos turned away from her, facing the street.

  Tom looked down at her and whispered, “I’ll take care of him. Just—” His eyes were tender—and worried. “Luisa, if you can wait here, I can call Laken to take you home.”

  “No, I’ll be all right. Take care of him—and bring him home to me. Please.”

  Tom nodded.

  She grabbed his forearm. “Tom, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He smiled tenderly, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Just get home in one piece, all right? I’ll talk to you later.” Then he turned and caught up with the boy who was striding across the grass, his movements jerky and pained.

  Luisa watched them go. When they got into Tom’s car and drove away, she sank to the grass, too drained to move.

  Up through the trees, she saw the early morning light filter down like a blessing.

  Luisa prayed for the strength to reclaim her child.

  And to quit wishing for a man like her friend’s husband.

  * * *

  Tom looked over at the boy beside him. In the daylight, he could see the damage. Carlos had lost his innocence this night. He broke the silence that had filled the car since they’d left, Tom trying to give Carlos room to calm down. “You hungry?”

  Carlos glanced over, startled. He shook his head.

  “Well, I am. You’ll join me?”

  The boy gave a reluctant nod. “I guess so.”

  Tom pulled into a taquéría a few blocks from Ramon’s apartment. “You want to stay in here or come with me?”

  Carlos shrugged. “Come with you, I guess.”

  When they got to the window, Tom ordered breakfast tacos, more of them than he could eat, along with coffee and orange juice. After he paid, he nodded toward the shade tree nearby. “It’s a nice morning. Mind if we sit there?”

  Carlos shook his head and followed.

  Tom sat down beneath the tree and unwrapped one of the tacos, taking a bite and sighing with pleasure. Then he glanced over at the boy still ramrod-straight beside him. “Ease up, Carlos. I’m not going to yell at you.”

  A quick, startled glance told him that a lecture was exactly what the boy had expected.

  Tom ate the rest of his taco, gesturing toward the bag. “They’re good. Try one.”

  Carlos eyed the bag, then gave into temptation. Like a starving young wolf, he devoured one taco, then looked at Tom for permission to eat another.

  “Go ahead. I got too much.”

  Carlos smiled faintly. “You knew I’d want some, didn’t you?”

  Tom grinned. “I suspected as much. I could never get full at your age.”

  Shadows flitted across the boy’s gaze. “I’m sorry. What happened back there…”

  “You know she loves you.”

  One shoulder lifted. “Yeah. But she doesn’t give him a chance.”

  “She’s been through a lot with him. A lot you don’t remember or weren’t there to see.”

  “But he’s—” Suddenly, the boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I keep trying to help him so he’ll get it together. I keep thinking he’ll get his life straightened out and then she’ll see that he’s okay.”

  “And then maybe they’ll get back together?”

  Misery shone from the boy’s eyes. “Stupid, huh?”

  Tom shrugged and clasped Carlos’s shoulder. “Understandable. There’s not a kid in the world who doesn’t wish his parents would be happy together. Even when it’s not very likely.”

  Carlos stared at the ground. “But they won’t, will they?”

  “I’m not going to lie and tell you it will happen. The odds are against it. But what you need to realize is that whether or not your dad can get his act together, you’re not responsible for him or what he does. And you can’t make him into someone he’s not.”

  Carlos shot him a tormented glance, then looked away. “She’s wrong, though. He does love me.”

  “Of course he does. You’re a hell of a son. Any man would be proud to claim you.”

  With those words, the cord of tension that had held Carlos rigid seemed to snap. He slumped over, his thin shoulders shaking.

  Wordlessly, Tom pulled him close and let him cry it out, his own eyes suspiciously damp. Poor kid. Taking years of bad history between Ramon and Luisa all on his too-young shoulders.

  After a few moments, Carlos straightened. Without a word, Tom handed him a napkin, and Carlos blew his nose.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve had a rough night. A rough few months.”

  “I don’t know what to do now.”

  Hoping Ava would understand, Tom made an offer that seemed right. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come stay with Ava and me for a few days? You could have Grayson’s room, or you can stay in the guest room.”

  Carlos’s head whirled to face him. “You would do that?”

  Tom nodded. “We’d enjoy having you. House gets too quiet sometimes.”

  “Mrs. Sinclair wouldn’t mind?”

  “You know Ava likes you.” It was true, no matter what he and Ava still needed to work out between them.

  A tiny spark of hope lit in the boy’s brown eyes. Then it dimmed. “What about my dad?”

  “He can call you anytime he wants.” If he’s not in jail. Tom had had some words with the cop who’d arrested Carlos, pointed him in what he was sure was the right direction to find the true criminal.

  “When would I come?”

  “We could go get some of your things right now. I don’t think school’s in the picture today, do you?”

  The first real smile shone from the boy’s face. “Cool.”

  “But you will be there tomorrow.”

  Carlos sighed. “All right.”

  Tom had to fight to keep the smile from his own face. “Then let’s get a move on. I need to show my face at the office for at least a few minutes.”

  “Am I going to jail?”

  Tom rose and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I don’t think so. I can’t promise, but your past record works in your favor, and if you’ll stay on the straight and narrow from here on, your chances for probation look pretty good.”

  The shadows were back. “I was so scared in there.”

  “Not much fun, is it?”

  “How would you know?”

  Tom smiled and began walking, drawing the boy with him. “Ah, my checkered past comes back to haunt me.”

  “You? Really? In jail?”

  “I never stole anything or hurt anyone. But at more than one protest march, I wound up inside the hallowed halls of justice.” His grin faded. “But jail’s a much meaner place now than it was then, even juvie. I have no interest in going back, and neither should you.”

  “Never.” Carlos’s voice quivered with emotion. “I never want to go near there again.”

  “Good. Let’s get your things.”


  “Tom?”

  Tom turned.

  “I really thought he owned that stuff.”

  The look of broken faith made Tom’s heart ache. “I know you did. And I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for coming to get me. Can you take me by to see my mom after we get my clothes?”

  Tom smiled. “You betcha.”

  * * *

  Several blocks later, they pulled into the apartment complex where Ramon lived. The stench hit Tom the instant Carlos unlocked the door.

  Carlos ducked his head and apologized. “I try to clean it up, but…”

  Spilled beer and cigarette smoke competed with grease and stale air to curdle inside the nostrils. The place had the look of a cave, drapes drawn, rooms dark. A talk show buzzed low from the television in the corner, but Ramon was nowhere in sight.

  The boy’s embarrassment touched Tom’s heart. “Go on. Gather your things. Need some help?”

  Carlos shrugged. “You can come back if you want, but I can handle it.”

  What he’d seen thus far wasn’t encouraging, but Tom followed the boy. Carlos’s room was spare as a monk’s cell, everything painfully neat, though there was no furniture but a twin bed and one old kitchen chair with a torn seat. His clothing was stacked carefully by type on the floor along one wall.

  Tom thought back to Luisa’s spotless house, to its color and life. This boy paid a high price for his compassion, and he was paying still. How this could be resolved and still keep Carlos from feeling like a failure was a big problem to surmount. He was dying by inches in this place, but he would never leave Ramon as long as he believed his father needed him. Or as long as he thought Ramon could be redeemed.

  But it wasn’t up to one sixteen-year-old boy to redeem a man who would knowingly send his child out to fence stolen goods and let him take the rap.

  Carefully schooling his features to keep his dismay hidden, Tom jingled his keys in his pockets, more than ready to leave this dump.

  “Okay, I think that’s it. No, wait—one more thing.” Carlos went into the hallway toward the bathroom.

  Just then, Tom heard the front door hit the wall.