Harlequin Superromance September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: This Good ManPromises Under the Peach TreeHusband by Choice

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Thank you. You don’t seem that steady yourself.” Unable to stop himself, he reached for her hand. Squeezed it. “How are you holding up?”

  Seeing her fingers wrapped around his helped to settle him even if it didn’t do a damn thing for her. He had to be careful. It was one thing to ask her out to dinner so they could put the past to rest. But having her here, with his family, stirred up so much more.

  He wished they wanted the same things. But he’d be leaving Heartache soon and he could never fulfill the longing she had to have a real family of her own. She deserved it after what she’d gone through with her parents, never having siblings and barely having her parents in her life. But Mack’s family had created so many problems for him that he refused to recreate the same situation with children of his own. He’d visited shrinks plenty of times over the years just to be sure his occasional bad days were normal. Level. He wasn’t about to pass on those fears to a kid.

  “I’m okay.” She let go of his hand to retrieve some tissue from a leather purse tucked under one arm. “I drove her and Ally here because Bethany didn’t want to call an ambulance, and I didn’t blame her. Ally’s arms had stopped bleeding by then.”

  The weight of what his niece was going through him hit him like a semitruck.

  “I got a text from Scott.” He didn’t mention the thirty texts he’d received from his mother.

  “He beat us to the ER so he was able to help Bethany when we arrived. I stayed down here to wait for you because I didn’t want to be in the way, and I knew coming here would be—” she gestured to the waiting room “—tough.”

  Nina must remember him telling her about the nights as a kid when his dad would wake them up so he could drive their mom here. She didn’t know about that darkest of ER visits with Jenny.

  “The toughest part is realizing that Ally could be facing the same kinds of issues Mom does.” The elevator doors swished open and an orderly pushed a wheelchair with a smiling young mom holding a newborn wrapped in pink. A dad juggling bags and flowers sprinted out ahead of them, car keys jingling.

  “You don’t think—” Nina bit her lip, her gaze lingering on the pink bundle before returning to him. “That never occurred to me. I guess I just figured...I don’t know. Teenage angst.”

  Unlike him, who saw mood disorders everywhere he looked.

  He nodded toward the stairs. “Do you mind if we walk up?”

  “That’s fine.” Nina double-checked her phone. “Ally is waiting for a consultation from a dermatology specialist upstairs, but Bethany said we could meet in the fourth-floor waiting area.”

  “Did Ally say much on the ride here?”

  “No. The ride was so silent I intruded with babble just to make noise or make it less awkward. But then I thought maybe I was the only one who felt really awkward.”

  “There’s a lot of silence going around in that house.” He reached in front of Nina to shove open the door to the stairs, the scent of her vanilla fragrance stirring memories in spite of the hellish day. Didn’t it figure she would smell incredibly edible?

  His phone vibrated. He cursed.

  “If you need to take it in private,” Nina offered, “I can meet you upstairs.”

  “It’s not that. It’s Mom.” The door fell shut behind them and they started to climb. Mack withdrew his phone again and checked the message. “She’s had a rough year since Dad’s death and I’m...” He blew out a pent-up breath. “I’m not Scott. I can’t provide constant reassurance. I just—can’t. I’ll send her a note when we get upstairs.”

  Nina was quiet.

  “I know that makes me a heel.” What decent guy ignored his own mother?

  “God, no,” she confided, her frankness something he’d always enjoyed about her. “I can totally identify with drawing boundaries when you have a strained relationship with your parents. I just didn’t realize you’d reached that point with your mom.”

  Long ago. Mack had left town before his mother had found the right mix of medications that seemed to be helping her more lately. But unfortunately, he hadn’t found a new, healthy way to relate to her. Avoidance had become his go-to coping mechanism.

  “You remember she ended up in the hospital after Vince’s accident.” One of many reasons he never could have gone to New York with her.

  * * *

  NINA TRIED NOT to let her jaw hit the floor at Mack’s comment. Had he honestly just said that?

  “Of course I remember. That was one of many things I blamed myself for in those months after we broke up.” She’d been devastated when he’d told her his mom had been hospitalized. That was in the first few weeks after Nina had left town, when they’d still been speaking.

  “Why would you blame yourself?” He halted on a step. “You must have known she had problems long before that, even if I never talked about it.”

  Mack had never talked about himself, his emotions, or his family. To a grown woman, that would have been a red flag. For Nina, she’d been too caught up in all the good stuff they shared to think about what they didn’t.

  “I was eighteen. I tended to believe everything was my fault,” she backpedaled, not ready to talk about the argument she’d had with his mom before she left town. He had too many other family concerns to deal with today. “I remember thinking at that exact moment—when you told me she’d been admitted—that you were never coming to New York with me.”

  That had been devastating enough. But it had been far worse to imagine she’d played a role in pushing his mom over the edge when they’d argued.

  “That wasn’t the main reason I didn’t get to New York.” Mack’s boots thudded heavily on each stair as if the weight of old grief dogged his steps even now. “If it had just been my mom...”

  He trailed off and she guessed all the ways he might fill in the blank. Logically, she understood the aftermath of his best friend’s death had been traumatic. That she should have been stronger for him instead of expecting him to be there for her. She’d been selfish. Self-centered.

  And eighteen.

  “I know it was more complicated than that. I just meant—”

  “Jenny miscarried Vince’s baby two days after the accident.” He hit the top step on the fourth-floor landing but paused before he opened the door. “I’d promised I wouldn’t share her secret back then because she was eighteen and scared to death, but she came to terms with that a long time ago. She wouldn’t mind me telling you now.”

  Shock glued her feet to the floor. In all these years, she’d never guessed. Never suspected there might be something so...significant that had drawn Jenny and Mack together. Her picture of the past reshuffled like a deck of cards in an electric dealer, the placement of all the pieces shifting too fast to comprehend.

  “I had no idea.” Even as new understanding dawned, finally giving her insight into everything that had happened since she left town, she also felt the sting of hurt that Mack had willingly chosen to keep her in the dark after all that they’d shared. He’d chosen Jenny over her. “I’m so sorry you had to bear that.”

  “It felt like the right thing to do at the time, and it was a lot worse for Jenny.” He met her gaze evenly. Stoic even now. Until he blinked slowly. Shook his head. “But I can’t help remembering it today because I brought her to this same ER. The whole thing happened two floors down.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “CAN YOU TELL me when the scratching started, honey?”

  Later that evening, back at home and settled on her bed like she had the flu instead of “emotional issues,” as she’d overheard one of her nurses call it, Ally stared at her mother and wondered how to answer the question. Her bandaged arms throbbed with the fresh cuts and antiseptic ointment that was supposed to keep everything clean, but her mind was on the folder the hospital had sent her family home with, a folder full of info
rmation about counseling and live-in treatment centers for troubled teens.

  Her mother had tried to hide it in her purse, but Ally had already looked up the places on her phone. The thought of living somewhere like that scared the hell out of her.

  “Why do you want to know?” Ally was cranky and miserable because her life was only going to fall apart more from here. Yes, her arms would heal and she could hide the scars left behind.

  But too many people would find out about the incident at the salon. It didn’t matter that her mother had taken her to a doctor outside of town to keep talk to a minimum. Sooner or later, rumors would spread. Worse, she had a referral to some psych doctor to “assess her condition further.” Translation? She needed her head examined. How would she ever pull off her plan to leave Heartache if she had a shrink looking over her shoulder and her parents breathing down her neck?

  Now that Ethan wouldn’t be leaving town with her...she needed to go all the more.

  “Why do I want to know? Because I nearly fell over when you told the doctor this wasn’t the first time you’ve cut yourself.” Her mother sat at the computer desk Ally had outgrown two years ago, her fingers walking over the old bulletin board full of dumb pictures from sophomore year she hadn’t bothered to change.

  “Are you sure you’re not asking just so you can find a way to blame Dad for my problems?” Ally knew it was wrong to say. She also knew it would hurt her mom.

  She’d talked to her parents once about her “moods” and her mother had said Ally could have the same genetics as Gram. In other words, she could have inherited the crazy genes through her father. She’d also overheard Gram say that Uncle Mack wouldn’t even have kids in case he passed on those genes.

  Meaning...what? That Ally was a genetic misfortune? She’d adored Uncle Mack before that. Now...she didn’t much care what he thought of her.

  “Does it make you feel better to lash out at me?” Swiveling on the hot-pink office chair to face the bed, her mom spoke softly.

  Shame almost made Ally sorry she’d said it. She toed off the boots she’d worn to work and tugged a purple afghan over her feet.

  “You and Dad get to lash out every day.” Every. Freaking. Day. “If you’re not yelling, you’re silent. And if you ask me, that’s worse.”

  “I did not ask you.” Her mother folded her hands carefully on the top knee of her crossed legs. “I want to know when else you’ve cut yourself.”

  “It’s not cutting. It’s scratching.” There was a difference. People who cut themselves were even more messed up than her. “And I can’t remember when I started.”

  That was a lie. She remembered the exact date she’d first found relief by digging her nails deeper into her skin. She’d been frustrated over getting a B and then her parents had started arguing about the lack of quality family time taking a toll on everyone, and her lame grade had been in the eye of the storm. But she’d hurt her mom enough for one day.

  “Ally, I’m sorry that you feel like you can’t talk to me lately.” She wrapped her arms around herself, her face and body thinner every month. Clothes that fit her just two months ago were loose now. “I hadn’t realized how much my problems with your father are affecting you.”

  “You want to get out of this house as much as I do,” Ally muttered, tugging the blanket higher toward her chin.

  “Excuse me?” Her mom stilled.

  “Nothing.” A wave of exhaustion came over her and she wanted nothing more than to burrow under the blankets. “I’m just tired, okay?”

  Standing, her mom turned toward the window to pull the shade down and paused.

  Ally heard the rumble of a car slowing down.

  “Is someone here?” She didn’t need more well-meaning visitors.

  Uncle Mack had shown up at the hospital with Nina Spencer. Then, when Ally had finally returned home, two of the hairdressers from the salon had been in the process of leaving cookies and balloons on the front porch when her mom had pulled up in the car. So embarrassing to have to face people from work with her arms all bandaged.

  “It’s Ethan Brady.” Her mother pulled the shade. “I’ll tell him you’re not feeling well.”

  “No.” Ally vaulted out of bed, her heart in her throat. “I’m fine. Is he by himself?”

  Rachel Wagoner had told the whole hair salon that she had a date with him tonight. Was she sitting in the passenger seat even now?

  “I don’t see anyone with him. But why don’t I just tell him—”

  “I need to speak with him.” She dodged her discarded boots on her sprint to the bathroom and grabbed a hairbrush. Why would he come here? And why wasn’t he with Rachel? Good or bad, Ally wanted to find out for herself what he wanted. She just hoped he hadn’t heard about the incident at the salon. She’d gone out a back entrance with Nina when they’d arrive to take her to the hospital.

  But it was a hair salon. Of course people would have been talking about it afterward. Rachel must have overheard something.

  “Ally, you’re not well.” Her mom folded her arms and used the parenting voice.

  She wouldn’t seriously try to stop her from seeing Ethan?

  “Neither are you,” Ally shot back, her emotions a wild tangle while she searched for a mascara wand in the clutter of discarded hair ties and lip glosses around the sink. “You’re wasting away to skin and bones while everyone pretends not to notice. But you don’t let that stop you from going to work or talking to people.” Seizing the mascara from behind the faucet, she whipped out the brush and coated her lashes. “Why should I be any different?”

  She’d never back-talked to her mother as much as she had in the past ten minutes. Ally didn’t know if it was blood loss messing with her judgment or if maybe the sedative they’d given her two hours ago was making her run off at the mouth. She should try to rein it in, though, because if her mother grounded her and wouldn’t let her see Ethan...

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” she blurted, giving up on the makeup, since she already had a Bride of Frankenstein thing going on. Brushing past her mother on the way out, she stopped to lean her head on her mom’s bony shoulder. “Those meds must be making me loopy.”

  The doorbell chimed before her mother could say anything. Ally yanked a red long-sleeved flannel off a hook by her bedroom door and slipped it on to cover the bandages. She felt light-headed by the time she hit the top of the stairs, so she went down slower. One ER trip per day was more than enough.

  Her father reached the front door before she could.

  “It’s for me.”

  Her dad frowned.

  “Are you sure?” He looked up the stairs, from daughter to mother, his face taking on that tense mask it always did when he looked at her mother lately.

  Ally couldn’t deal with an argument about this, which did not involve them at all.

  “It’s fine,” she insisted for what seemed like the millionth time. “We’re just going to talk, okay? I’ll be right outside.”

  Flinging open the door, she came face-to-face with Ethan through the screen. Or, face to chest. She tilted her chin up to meet his gaze in the dim glow of the porch light.

  “Hey, Ally.” He made a half wave at her parents, who still stood behind her.

  How awkward that her whole family had come to the door.

  “Hey, yourself.” Her voice trembled a little and she hoped it was from exhaustion and not because she was still wildly crushing on him. Especially not if he was dating Rachel.

  Swallowing down the dread, she pushed open the screen and met him outside, grateful she at least still wore her socks even though she had no shoes. The night air was cool, but the days were still mild enough that her mother left all the patio furniture out, from bamboo rugs in bright colors to hurricane lamps on the tables between Adirondack chairs.

  “What’s up?”
she asked as soon as her father—thank you, God—closed the door behind them.

  Leaning against a porch rail, she used her thumbs to grab the buttons on each cuff of her shirt and anchored her sleeves over the bandages with a tight grip. If he hadn’t heard what happened, she sure wasn’t going to give it away.

  “You tell me.” He joined her at the rail, except he looked out over the lawn toward her grandmother’s old farm while she kept her back to the rest of the world and a wary eye on her own house. She didn’t need her mom spying through the blinds.

  “What do you mean?” She bit her lip, bracing herself in case he knew she’d been dragged out the back door of The Strand Salon in a flood of tears and scratches.

  “I thought we were going to meet up this weekend.” He turned to rest a hip on the white wooden railing while he shook his head. “Don’t you remember? You said we’d make plans for—you know.” He glanced up at her house and lowered his voice. “The great escape.”

  A smile played around his lips and Ally wondered if he really hadn’t heard about her meltdown. And what about Rachel?

  “Unless...” He folded one arm over the other and crossed his ankles as he leaned back next to her. “You weren’t serious about that after all.”

  “No.” Her head was close enough to his shoulder she could have tilted it an inch or two to the right and she’d be resting her temple against the gray cotton of his thin sweatshirt. “I was totally serious. I thought maybe I’d see you last night—”

  Once she started that sentence she had exactly nowhere to go with it. She didn’t want to admit she’d been staring at him and Rachel for the better part of an hour, watching them laugh together while her heart broke.

  “You must have left before I could talk to you. Didn’t you see everyone from school over by Davy’s truck?”

  Should she ask about Rachel and risk looking jealous when he wasn’t even her boyfriend? Or just fake like nothing unusual had happened?

  “I must have been distracted.” She kept her hands tucked behind her.