by Crowe, Liz
“Sara,” Jack said. But she held up a hand.
“Goodbye,” and she walked out with a word to no one, straight to her car, and drove to the airport for her redemptive vacation. Alone.
The wind whipped her hair, the radio blared, and Sara’s eyes were dry as she blasted her way to Detroit Metro Airport. The phone jangled through the expensive sound system, startling her out of her driving trance. The image of her husband, the man she loved beyond life itself, whom she had resisted for years, risking her own happiness in order to protect herself and her daughter—holding that woman in his arms was seared into her psyche. Why? She pounded the steering wheel. Why did she doubt him?
They’d been here before. And had had many discussions about that Vegas-condoms-in-the-suitcase moment, agreeing that they both used it as an excuse to break from the too-soon engagement. Now, in the deepest part of her soul where she buried all the mistrust and anger over her father’s serial cheating, she found it. The nugget of trust she needed, that he had earned. She’d probably interrupted some kind of innocent moment. Shannon had a problem, went to him and he comforted her. Jack brought that out in people, women especially.
“God damn it!” she yelled into the empty car as she passed a semi on interstate ninety-four. She was such a knee-jerk reactionary. She clenched her jaw, satisfied with the events she had put in motion by calling Rob first, then Maureen. Jack needed a kick in his ass. Rob would start it, and she would finish it. If he decided to join her of course. There was always that chance—that he would not.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm even to her own ears.
“Hi honey, what are you doing?”
“I’m driving to the airport.” Sara looked over her shoulder and merged into the exit lane, keeping her tone neutral.
“Oh,” her mother said, letting the unspoken “why?” hover on the airwaves.
“I’m, um, taking some steps, you know, to salvage my marriage. What are you doing?”
“Good for you,” her mother said. “We’re moving back to Ann Arbor.”
Sara nearly swerved into the oncoming traffic. “What?” She said, righting herself and trying to process the bombshell.
“I can’t take it down here anymore. I need to be near my family…what’s left of it.”
“Mom,” Sara turned into the long term parking structure. “I don’t know if, oh, never mind.” She held back arguments as she drove around looking for an empty parking spot. What did it matter anyway? And having her around for the kids wouldn’t hurt. “But, Dad can’t be up in Jack’s face all the time.” She slid the car into a spot, closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel hoping that Jack would even be around for her father to bother, because there was no doubt that about that second part. The next voice she heard was Matthew Thornton’s—the man who, in her opinion, was a pompous, cheating, asshole.
“Sara,” his tone was low. “I know this isn’t exactly good news to you, but I’m really worried about your mom. I suggested it out of desperation, and she jumped at it. I love her, I love you, and I loved Blake. I only want all of you to be happy. So….”
Sara stayed silent but a tear slipped down her cheek at his words. “Dad,” she whispered.
“No, hear me out. I fully realize what a shit I was for the majority of your growing up years. I didn’t earn your love. If anything I dishonored it until you were sixteen, when I got my act together. I’m lucky,” his voice faded and Sara sucked in a breath. A glaring, ugly memory speared her brain—from Blake’s memorial at her house. They’d forgone a formal funeral at Sara’s insistence. He would have hated that shit. Blake had not only saved Rob’s life with his organ donation, his corneas had given sight to a man with a young family. They’d had him cremated after that but no one had the emotional energy to do anything with the remains, to do what Rob wanted and take them to the lake house, so at the moment her parents had them down in Florida.
But the visual memory that smacked her between the eyes was of her parents. Dr. Beth Thornton, stoic, strong, beautiful almost always with a wry, knowing smile playing at her lips had stood at a table covered with photos and memorabilia from Blake’s life. She’d spoken of her son, or tried to. Dr. Matthew Thornton, never without some smart ass, deprecating comment about what everyone around him was doing wrong, and nearly intolerant of public displays of emotion had caught his wife before she hit the ground. Rob had gotten out of his wheelchair at the sight of them, huddled together and distraught. He’d put his arms around them both and they all stayed there a good long while. Sara had had to escape inside just to get away from the sight.
She sat in the car and caught her breath. She would not, could not, allow her father to be anything but her own memory of him. She’d dehumanized the man for years, been amused by his recent foray into pro-bono work at a women’s clinic with her mother down in Florida, but refused to see him other than “that asshole.”
“I’m lucky,” he continued, his voice strong again. “Your mother never gave up on me, and I won’t give up on her now. If being back home, near you and your kids and Gabe is what she wants, then, by God, that is what we are going to do.”
“Good,” she whispered. “I’m glad. I love you dad.” She hung up before it got any weirder. She clutched her hands in her lap, bit her lip. This was right. She was going to save her marriage because she trusted her husband and loved him enough to finally admit it. But he was in for a surprise first. He needed to understand that she was willing to work for it, after he opened up to her, under duress.
Chapter Eighteen
The sun was setting by the time Rob drove across town to his old friend’s sprawling retro ranch house in Ann Arbor Hills. The clouds made it picture perfect, mocking him in the way only beautiful things did. He didn’t know why but since Blake’s death he despised good weather. It pissed him the fuck off. He wanted it crappy, cloudy, windy, rainy, thundering if possible, all the time. It matched his near constant mood. He could practically hear Blake’s voice berating him, could see his snapping green eyes and feel his anger. His lover’s fury had had a visceral nature to it and he would meet you halfway on any fight.
But tonight, the sight of the movie-like sunset did something else for him—it made him smile. Maybe he would survive. It would be what Blake wanted, for certain, and he’d been mourning the man in a shit head way—ignoring Lila, pretending he didn’t care about her anymore. As if her beauty, her love brought out his contrarian, made him resist her. But today, he’d ended all that crap and would be working to make it up to her.
His heart sped up as he drove to Jack’s, prepared to play the part of Blake and beat the truth out the man. He would not tolerate his friend fucking up his life with Sara. No way, no how. He wanted to believe what Sara saw when she opened Jack’s office door was a misunderstanding, a misplaced innocent embrace between two people in crisis. But he was by god going to find out. Grateful that Sara was willing to go through with her plan for the weekend, he had every intention of getting the truth, then putting his old friend onto an airplane.
“I love you,” he said into the empty truck cab, his eyes dry but his throat tight. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”
He pulled into Gordon’s long driveway and jumped out of the truck. After pounding on the door hard enough to make the dog apoplectic but without rousing Jack, he went around to the patio and peered into one of the many floor to ceiling windows that lined the back of the house. “Gordon,” he yelled, finally catching sight of the man leaning on the kitchen counter clutching a beer. “Let me the fuck in. Now.”
He clenched his fists while Jack wandered over and flipped the door lock then walked away. Rob slid it open, marched up to his friend and shoved him up against the dining room wall, forearm across the other man’s neck. Jack just stood there, staring at him, his eyes alarmingly vacant. “Better just tell me now. Don’t make me—”
“Get off.” Jack’s voice was low, and harbored no option for argument.
&n
bsp; Rob was not intimidated; too many years and too much shit had passed between them. “Sure thing old buddy,” he pressed harder. Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t do this, Rob. It’s not your fight.”
“Oh, yeah?” He stared into his friend’s eyes. “Guess again. Tell me now what I think is true. That you are not fucking around on her. Tell me…”
Jack pushed back, shoving Rob into the dining room chair and stalking past him to the kitchen. Rob followed him, grabbed his arm, turned him and planted his fist into Jack’s nose. Jack retaliated with a quick punch to Rob’s jaw. It landed, hard, jarring him but he shook it off, yanked Jack’s still extended arm and wrenched it up behind him, forcing the man to the cork floor. He put a knee in Jack’s back. Blood from his nose formed a red puddle.
“Get the fuck off me!” he yelled.
“Can’t hear you, sorry,” Rob pulled his arm up higher. “I need other words my friend. Or I will beat your sorry ass senseless then shove you on a plane to your wife where you belong.”
“This is none of your god damned business Freitag.” Jack squirmed, kicked his feet, tried to flip them over, but while he might be stronger at this point in their lives, Rob had the advantage. He pressed harder into the other man’s back with his knee.
“Nope, sorry. Not the words I’m looking for. I need to hear it, Gordon,” Rob put his face close to Jack’s still holding onto his wrist. Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he kept quiet. Rob just glared at him, waiting until a sharp pain hit him hard in the forehead when his friend head butted him forcing him to let go of his arm. Jack leapt up, landed a punch to Rob’s eye, and received another hit to the gut. Rob’s heart was pounding but he felt great, alive and with a purpose. The men circled each other. “Tell me you mother fucker. Tell me you are not cheating on her. Because I don’t think you are.”
Jack stopped, put his arm up to his still bleeding nose. “Jesus, man. You know I’m not. Why the hell are you trying to beat the shit out me then?”
They stared at each other across the dining room table, both men breathing heavy and sporting emerging black eyes. “Because you needed this. You were overdue a beating over all this shit with Sara. And I intend to keep it up until you tell me with your own words what happened today.”
Jack sat, his face blank once again. Rob gripped the back of the opposite chair, his jaw and eye socket aching. “We are too fucking old for this crap. Seriously.” Jack looked up at him. “I love that woman with every fiber of my being and you know it. I didn’t do anything and honestly, I think she knows it but she…she’s…I’m…fuck.” He threw up his hands and headed into the kitchen, emerging with two wet towels. He handed one to Rob. “I’m terrified, overwhelmed and running on three hours of sleep a night. I have this new project that is about to really get wheels. And the real estate business is kicking ass right now. And the kids… Katie won’t stop mourning Blake. And I have no idea how to be a father to a son, you know? I suck at it already I’m sure of it. And Sara has been so, I don’t know, stoic about her brother. Didn’t fall apart like I expected her to. I don’t get who she is anymore, sometimes….” His voice trailed off
“Lame.” Rob declared, marching into the kitchen and grabbing two beers from the under-counter drinks’ fridge. He popped the caps and handed one to Jack. “You withdraw from her because she’s stronger than you expected? Jesus. You guys are impossible.” They sipped, holding the towels to their faces. “You need to tell her this. Really talk to her. Let her be strong sometimes. It’s okay. Honestly. You are allowed to have fear and weakness. That’s what a relationship is for. So you can be both things at different times, the one in control and the one being controlled, or helped, or however you want to look at it.”
Jack nodded. “Damn,” he put the cold bottle to his face.
“She has your suitcase with her, on a plane to some resort in Georgia. I have your flight info here,” he passed a printed out email over to his friend. “My suggestion to you, if you’re inclined to listen to me,” Jack flinched and held up a hand.
“Yeah, I’m way too old for any more combat.”
“Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Get your sorry ass on a plane and meet your wife for the weekend. And really talk. We’ve got the kids covered. Your daughter and I are overdue a discussion anyway.”
Jack stood, downed his beer and held out his hand. Rob stood and took it surprised when the other man pulled him into a fierce embrace. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back and looking into Rob’s eyes. “I’m really sorry. And you’re right. But I hope you are doing something similar with your woman. Because I’d hate for us to have to repeat this little song and dance.” He made a circling motion with his finger. “I don’t think we’re up to it.”
Rob laughed. “Yeah, Lila and I are working things out. I think. And we want to have a two-year memorial for Blake, at the lake house, like he would have wanted.”
Jack shot him a sharp look. “Okay. But as long as we are being all girlie and talking about our feelings….”
“I love Lila, and I intend to marry her, if she will have me.”
“Cool.” Jack said. “I’m gonna get a shower and some ice and have a plane to catch.”
“Oh, and when you get back I want all the details on the soccer team. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring all that.”
“Well, I’ve gotten the thumbs-up, almost all the funding, found the land and signed a construction contract for the stadium.”
Rob fished some ice out of the freezer to put on his aching jaw. “Nice. What about players? Those are sort of important.”
“Rafe, the Argentinean kid who played for LA and is DOC for Katie’s club, is helping out. He’s on salary now, and is heading over to Turkey to talk to a guy about coaching in a couple of weeks. After he nails my sister first, I guess.” Jack shrugged.
Rob burst out laughing. “Classic.” He said slapping Jack’s shoulder. “Mo could stand some Latino happiness.”
“Yeah,” Jack ran a hand down his face. “Whatever. Now, get the fuck out of my house. Go back to Lila. I have my marching orders.”
Rob wiped his eyes, still streaming from his laughing fit. “I will. Don’t screw this up. I mean it.”
“I won’t. Thanks.”
Rob headed home, still smiling through his rapidly stiffening jaw. He climbed out of his truck, already sore but not even caring. He craved one thing, his woman. And he was gonna make it a night she never forgot.
He opened the door, bypassed the messy kitchen, took a quick look at his son, still sleeping soundly in his crib.“Mmmm….” Lila shifted when he slid in behind her. It was only ten o’clock but he was exhausted. Well, except for one part of him. She stirred, shifted her hips back against his at-attention cock. He cupped her full breast and buried his nose in her hair. Thank god he hadn’t lost her.
She rolled onto her back, blinked, and sat up, flicking on the lamp. “Jesus Christ, Robert your face!” She rolled out of bed and stood. He leaned back, wincing at the creak in his shoulders. “You…Jack?”
He nodded. “He looks worse. Now get your sweet ass back in our bed. I have something for you.” He raised an eyebrow.
Chapter Nineteen
Rafe tried not to stare at his watch, attempted to stop sighing with impatience as the next sets of parents came into the conference room. He owed it to them to provide a thorough evaluation for each of the girls. But his skin tingled and his heart pounded alarmingly at the concept that tonight, Maureen, the woman he’d been fantasizing about since he first laid eyes on her nearly two years ago would finally be his.
“Um, what? Sorry,” he smiled at people sitting across from him, and used the leather tie to control his hair again. He shifted in his seat remembering the look in her eyes when she’d handed it back to him, just a few minutes ago. Dios. He wanted more and could not wait to really get his hands on her. The mystery remained of how he would work it all out, to be with her all the time like he wanted. Her kids were going to
be an issue, especially Ella, who had essentially stopped talking to him since her brother had caught him kissing their mother in front of the house.
He put his hand near his face so he could catch a ghostly scent of her which did not help the issue below the table, and he forced himself to be calm so he could at least stand and shake hands without displaying the tent in his shorts.
He’d never felt this way about any woman. Not even his erstwhile, underwear-model ex-wife. She’d been arm candy at best, a requirement for him at a certain point of his life. But they had been too young and too eager to please the press and his agent who all wanted a fairytale, expensive romance to publicize. And it ended in disaster when he’d caught her flat out sucking his teammate’s cock. In his own house. He didn’t hate her, really. Had not even been surprised. He’d had the requisite fist fight with the other player, booted her out, and filed for divorce the next day, with relief. They still talked some. She’d come to rely on him for career advice after she’d remarried and then summarily divorced the guy.
But Maureen Taylor had been all woman to him from the start, and he was drawn to her like a bee to a beautiful, unattainable flower. While he disgusted himself with his sappy neediness, he had been resolute after that moment in the hotel hall. He had to have her. And not just in his bed either. He wanted a place in her life, forever.
Agreeing to work with her brother had helped his cause. He and Jack had talked over beers a few nights earlier, and Rafe had just come right and admitted to the man how strongly he felt about Jack’s sister.
“Really,” Jack stared down into his glass of dark porter. “Well, good luck with that.”
Rafe stayed quiet, unsure how to answer. “Thanks, I think.” He finally said, sipping the rest of his own beer.