by Kilby Blades
Jeff held up his hands in an attempt to reason with her. “The trellis on the back of the house is a no-go for us, but it could easily support your weight. It’s attached to a lower roof, a clear path to the second-floor windows.”
Her gaze bounced between the two men—one with a cast on his left leg and the other who tipped the scales well over three hundred pounds—and she scowled.
“Given that inane logic…sure, why the hell not?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and threw up her hands. “You seriously expect me to scale the side of the house on a rose trellis, crawl in through a second floor window, bag a frightened squirrel, and escape—with the squirrel!—unnoticed?”
They nodded in unison and had the audacity to crack enthusiastic smiles.
“Bèn dàn,” she muttered. The Mandarin equivalent of idiot. “Are you both crazy? Do I look like I specialize in breaking and entering? That’s what we pay you for!” She glared, wiping the stupid grins off their faces. “How do you expect me to catch this thing? With my bare hands?”
Jeff held up a finger, then rummaged in one of the storage lockers and pulled out a small dart gun with a cassette of multi-sized cartridges. He loaded the smallest cartridge into the chamber and offered her the dart gun with a self-satisfied look.
“We added this to the toolkit after the fox disaster. Just nip the little guy with one of these. Takes about ten seconds to knock him out, then scoop him into the burlap sack. Should be easy.”
“Ha! Easy for a professional,” she grumbled and pointed to the monitors lining the van’s interior. Tanya was upstairs in the guest room next to where the squirrel had temporarily holed up in a closet. “She’s too close. How are you going to distract her?”
Tim opened the costume trunk and pulled out a policeman’s uniform, a utility belt with everything including a sidearm, and a radio. “Leave that to me.”
They were good, she’d begrudgingly give them that.
She rolled her head back to stare at the van’s roof for a second, then took a deep breath and snatched the dart gun. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.
Olivia’s heart pounded as she jimmied open the unlocked second-floor window, and gingerly stepped into the sparsely decorated guest room.
“Sweet Jesus, I’m in,” she muttered. The night vision goggles were badass but the headgear made her feel like a coal miner.
Their furry four-legged friend could be anywhere among the butt load of unpacked boxes, folded tarps and paint cans that surrounded the bed and small dresser. It looked more like a storage room than guest accommodations.
She lowered the window and crept farther inside. Not wanting to fry her retinas, she avoided glancing through the goggles at the slim, blinding shaft of light that filtered in through the slightly open bedroom door.
“Where is it?” Olivia whispered.
“Still in the closet,” Jeff said through her earpiece.
In the bathroom on the other side of the wall, she heard the rustle of makeup and Tanya singing along to a Sade tune that played on the sound system. Tanya’s pitch-perfect voice sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine. That girl could sing.
You better do right by her, Tate, Olivia thought. Not to mention, make this squirrel hunt worth it.
“You there?” Jeff asked, pulling her back.
“Yup.” Olivia shucked off the backpack, unzipped it, and removed the dart gun. The downstairs doorbell rang.
Officer Tim, right on time to return Tanya’s stolen suitcase, the one Liv pilfered to ensure Tanya wore the eye-popping present she’d left on the porch. They needed that kiss.
Tanya’s footsteps receded then echoed down the wooden staircase.
A scratching sound came from inside the closet.
“He’s in there,” she whispered.
“Whatever you do, don’t spook the little guy. They can shred the place in no time fast.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. Like she didn’t know that?
As Tanya exchanged a few words with Tim downstairs, Olivia crept to the closet and peered inside.
The squirrel froze with a peanut clasped in its tiny paws.
Just as Olivia aimed the dart gun, the squirrel let out a squeak, dropped the nut, and leaped out of the closet. In a fluffy blur of tail, the squirrel dashed out the open bedroom door and into the hallway.
Mandarin curses flew from Olivia’s mouth that damned not only the rodent’s mother but its entire bloodline.
“Abort! I repeat, abort!” Jeff hissed through the earpiece.
Wine bottle tucked under his arm, Tate balanced the hot pizza box and dug for the spare key hidden inside the potted shrub at the base of the front steps.
His pulse quickened at the thought of seeing Tanya. “I must be out of my damn mind,” he muttered. Inviting her here had seemed like a good idea in the moment, but he hadn’t really thought it through.
But she needed him, right? That’s what mattered.
Old bullshit could wait. Yet once the shock had worn off, it’s all he thought about since he’d stepped into the shower at the firehouse. How she’d let him down then disappeared from his life without a trace… until tonight’s fire.
He keyed open the lock and walked in. Over the R&B music, her favorite, he heard her engrossed in conversation on the phone upstairs.
Not wanting to disturb her, Tate headed down the hall to the kitchen. He didn’t envy her the hassle of dealing with the insurance company or sifting through what remained of her burned and smoke-damaged possessions.
Footsteps descended the front stairs as he placed the wine on the granite-topped island and rested the pizza box on the stove.
“Hey,” a familiar sultry voice said from behind him, sending an unexpected shiver over his skin straight down to his groin. Damn. Seventeen years later, the sound of her voice still unwound him.
He took a steadying breath and pivoted. “I hope you like mushroom and meatball on …” The words died in his throat. He blinked, once, twice. “Holy… You look… Amazing.”
His appreciative gaze soaked in every detail—the heels; the slinky green sheath dress that matched her eyes and clung to her curves; all that smooth cocoa skin. She wore no makeup other than gloss on her full lips, which would’ve been enough to make her traffic-stopping gorgeous even if she’d worn a potato sack. Her spiral locks fell loose, taken down from an earlier bun, and touched her bare shoulders.
Holy. Wow. She looked like Naomi Campbell in her supermodel heyday. That, coupled with her incredible talent had been the impetus behind her moving to L.A. after high school to pursue a music career.
As he stood there gaping like an idiot, he remembered the missing suitcase. His brow creased, “Wait a second, you couldn’t have found that in my closet.”
She glanced down at her outfit, and her lips twitched up into an amused smile. “I didn’t. It was a gift from Liv and my neighbors at The Commons. They left it in a box on your porch. I’m shocked that it all fit.”
Thank you, Liv. Rebooting his brain with a mental bitch slap, he pulled out a corkscrew, swallowed hard, and reached for the wine. “Resourceful bunch. Much better than a pair of my sweatpants.” He chuckled, but the thought of her in his clothes had the same effect on his blood flow as the dress.
He held up the wine bottle. “Drink?” God knew he needed one if only to inebriate the jackrabbit doing a River Dance in his stomach, and to rid the air of nervous tension.
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. “Thanks for calling your friend. A police officer dropped off my suitcase.”
His brows flicked up. Why hadn’t his buddy let him know? “Really? That’s great,” he said, not thinking too hard on it. With a light pop, the cork slipped free of the bottle. He brushed his gaze over her again. “For what it’s worth, that’s a great dress.”
Her smile smoothed the worry lines on her face, and for the first time all night, he saw his T-Girl poking through. “Thanks.”
“I heard you on the phone. Insura
nce company?” he asked.
She nodded, pulled out one of the stools from under the island and sat. “I have an appointment with the adjuster tomorrow morning at ten.” Then her lips curved up into a soft smile and she met his gaze. “Thank you, Tate…for everything.”
Warmth filled his chest and he cleared his throat. “Did I get all of the pictures?”
Her smile faltered a fraction. “Most.”
He frowned. “What did I miss?”
She gave a shrug like it didn’t matter, but after all these years he could still read her tells—the quick glance away, the quirk at the left side of her mouth. “The one on my bedside table.”
His frown deepened and he shook his head. “I checked every surface, T. There weren’t any pictures next to your bed. I promise.” Losing his own father had been tough, but they’d never been as close as Tanya and her dad. “Does your Mom have a copy—“
She reached over, squeezed his forearm, and said softly, “It’s all right. I’m so grateful for what you found.” The touch of her fingers unlocked a familiar yearning for more.
He covered her hand in his, gave her a gentle squeeze, and slipped free of her grasp. He needed space between them, to get away from her gravitational pull before he did something stupid.
“Hungry?” he asked, feigning nonchalance, and moved across the kitchen to retrieve two wine glasses, plates, and some napkins. He pointed to the pizza. “One slice or two?”
She gave a little laugh, dispelling the tension. “Two. I’m starving.”
That made one of them. He still couldn’t believe she was here. In his mind, she’d always been the one who had gotten away. And he still didn’t know why…what he’d done for her to disappear on him like that. A question that’s haunted him for seventeen long years. If nothing else, he needed the answer.
He doled out the wood-fired pizza, sat beside her, and poured them each a glass of Chianti. He held up his glass, “Toast?”
Her eyes lit up and she touched her glass to his.
Hoping he wasn’t being too presumptuous, Tate said, “To new beginnings and getting to know each other again.”
“I’d like that,” she said, giving a tilt of her head and taking a sip.
The wine hit his tongue in an explosion of flavor. He downed half the glass before thinking better of it, and let his frayed nerves slowly settle.
They ate in companionable silence. He refilled their glasses and plates. The tension of unanswered questions rippled silently between them as he worked up his courage.
When he looked at her, he still saw the girl who held him in her arms and sang to him softly during those dark days filled with survivor sadness. The same girl he held when she broke down, unable to keep the tears from falling. Out of the sadness came solace and a soul-deep friendship that turned into more. Inseparable, they spent almost a year together. He gave her his body and his heart, and when he left for Notre Dame, part of him stayed with her.
More than anyone, he understood the root of her passionate drive to pursue a singing career, the one thing beside him that held her together when they were teens. Yet, in his desperation, he had tried to hold on to her.
He started slow, and asked quietly, “Where’ve you been all these years, T? Why didn’t you keep our promise?”
Where to begin? Tanya thought, letting out a soft sigh and pushing her empty plate aside. She stared into Tate’s expressive blue eyes. Old pain and hurt stirred behind them and cut her to the core.
She couldn’t believe she sat here in the kitchen of the boy, now man, who she’d left that day and who had owned her heart from the moment she met him in their grief group at seventeen. Staring into his eyes, she realized her soul had never stopped yearning for him. He deserved an answer.
The last time he’d seen her was the day he’d left for Notre Dame, and she’d left with her mother on their cross-country road trip to L.A. to pursue her dream.
Her throat tightened. She’d sacrificed her promise to him to keep another. She’d promised him that she’d give their long-distance relationship a chance.
At the time, she had no idea what it would take to keep the first promise she’d made…The one she’d made to her father—to pursue her dreams of a music career. She’d naively thought she could keep both.
What she hadn’t counted on was how quickly the lifestyle she found in L.A. would devour her days and nights. Her calls to Tate grew less frequent, her letters shorter.
It all came to a head that first fall, Tate’s freshman year at Notre Dame. She’d promised to visit him for the biggest football game of the season and stay the weekend. Part of their plan to stay together while they both pursued their dreams.
Her eyes welled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
He reached for her hand and wrapped it in warmth. His brow furrowed, his gaze penetrating, “I waited at the bus station for hours. You never showed up or returned my calls… I got the note a few days later. What did I do?”
The thought of Tate waiting and worrying…
Her tears spilled over, and she wiped them away with one hand as she squeezed his hand in her other. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered, “It was me.”
He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Tell me,” he said softly.
She pressed on, ashamed at how she had handled things. “I had an audition a couple of days before I was supposed to see you. A producer for one of the record labels who represented a few big named R&B bands heard my demo of ‘I’ll Carry You with Me.’ One of the bands had an unexpected opening for a backup singer. The producer said, if I got it, I’d have the opportunity for a solo spot to crowd test the song.”
He nodded, his gaze coaxing but unwavering.
She paused and slipped her hand from his before she continued. It didn’t feel right to be touching him as she relived this. She stared at her lap and let the scene play out in her head. “They hired me on the spot. But they didn’t tell me until I got there that I would need to join their tour the next day, and that I would be gone for six months.”
She paused, remembering the awful scene that night with her mother and her manager as she tried to persuade them to ask the producer to delay her start by a few days. Her insides had ripped apart over the decision as she’d clutched the bus ticket Tate had sent her. Not wanting to choose between seeing him and the potential opportunity of a lifetime.
Tanya sighed. “My mom and I had a big fight. She said I had to choose...that if I passed up the opportunity, I’d resent you.”
“Baby, I know you think you love that boy, but you can’t fool yourself into thinking you can have Tate and this dream you’re chasing. You need to focus on your music. Don’t give up your dream for foolish promises you can’t keep. Make your daddy proud.”
Tate swallowed. “I would’ve understood. You didn’t have to cut me out of your life.” Anger tinged his hurt.
Her voice quivered and she shook her head. “She was right. In my heart, I knew if I couldn’t choose you then I had to let you go. Not because I didn’t love you, but because I couldn’t put you first,” she sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Any of it. Then it was too late, so I sent the note…” How often she’d thought of that note over the years. Every cowardly word of it.
Forgive me, Tate. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done and for what I’m about to do. It’s not because I don’t love you, it’s because I do.
There are places I need to go that you can’t follow.
I’m giving you back your freedom and taking mine.
Not forever, but for now.
This isn’t goodbye.
I promise.
I love you, Tanya
“My life went crazy after that. When I got back from the tour, I signed a record deal for ‘I’ll Carry You with Me,’” she said, giving him a sad smile. “But the song wasn’t just about my dad anymore it was about you, too.” She placed a hand to her heart. “You’ve always
been here, Tate. Even when I couldn’t be with you, I’ve carried you with me.”
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. There so many times she thought of Tate and what they could’ve had. So. Many. Times. When it all went wrong with the record company, she thought of giving up the dream and coming home. And she almost had…
A smile ghosted over his lips. “I remember when the song came out. I was so proud.” Then a pained expression crossed Tate’s face. “You said you’d come back, T.”
She brushed her fingers down the soft wool sweater covering his arm. “I did…”
The muscles in his arm tensed under her touch. “What do you mean? I never saw you again.”
The tears came faster than she could brush them away. “Christmas break your senior year of college. You were home for the holidays with your mom.” When they’d still lived in Montclair.
Tate frowned deeply and shook his head, his blue eyes burning. “What are you saying…?” he whispered.
She gave him a watery smile. “I was in New York City, on a 10-city tour with an R&B band. I worked up my courage and dropped by one night. I prayed that you’d talk to me. But you weren’t home. You were out for the night with your girlfriend.” She remembered her feelings of utter desolation along with her guilt over how she’d let him down.
Tate’s jaw twitched and his eyes misted. “I didn’t know.”
Tanya laid her hand on his. “That’s because I asked your mom not to say anything. After what I’d done, I didn’t have a right to disrupt your life. I was too late…That girl, she was the one you married?”
He nodded once and swept a hand over his face. “God, T. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me?” he asked with a hint of frustration.
“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
He passed a thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears, and said, “I would’ve given anything to be with you.” He looked as bereft as she felt.
His words cracked her wide open. “You had dreams, too, and I couldn’t let you give them up.” Had he been home that night and unencumbered, maybe things would’ve been different.