Nobody's Fool

by Sarah Hegger

  “What am I going to do?” Portia’s shoulders heaved under the strength of her sobs.

  “The first thing is to get you out of here.” Holly hated these cubicles. They were all the same, weary and soulless, like the collection of human misery had seeped into the walls and floor.

  Portia was just one more to the tally.

  Her resentment was selfish and unworthy of her. The battle armor of coping fastened around Holly. “Then we’re going to try to get you home as soon as possible. You’re always better when you’re home and where things are familiar. Right?”

  Portia nodded slowly. “I want to go home.”

  “Good.”

  “Can we go now?” Portia sounded like a young child.

  Holly gritted her teeth against the surge of irritation. “Well, there may be a small problem until I get a new passport.”

  “I didn’t lose my passport,” Portia said. “I hid it.”

  “Okay.” One obstacle overcome.

  “It’s not good for me to be here,” Portia said. “I need to go home.”

  “Yes, don’t we all?” Home to their nondescript, three-bedroom apartment just off campus. It didn’t fill Holly with peace. It hovered in front of her like a layer of cling wrap over her nose and mouth.

  Josh approached the cubicle where Richard said Holly’s sister was being kept under observation. This was some heavy fucking shit. He should’ve been running in the other direction as fast as his legs could carry him, but he wasn’t. It hadn’t occurred to him not to get involved.

  “Josh.” Richard caught his forearm, his brother’s face grave. “This is big. Are you sure you want to get involved with this? This is some heavy fucking shit.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.” Josh gave a bark of laughter as his brother’s words neatly echoed his thoughts. “I’m still here, though.”

  “Josh?” Richard’s eyebrows lowered heavily over his eyes.

  Josh sensed a lecture in the air. Jesus. Richard could be such a supercilious prick sometimes.

  “I’ve got this.” He cut his brother off.

  “But it’s—”

  “I’ve got this.”

  Richard gave him a hard, searching stare but released his forearm and stepped back. “Want to tell me why you’re getting yourself into this?”

  “Haven’t got a fucking clue.” Josh shrugged. “But it’s got something to do with that small brave woman in there.”

  Richard’s face gentled. “Okay, but you know where I am if you need me.”

  “I know that.”

  “Good.”

  On the other side of the privacy curtain, Portia huddled like a child against Holly.

  A wave of fierce protectiveness staggered him. Not for Portia but for Holly.

  Portia was much larger than her older sister. Taller and larger framed, but Holly held her nonetheless, arms stretched to physical capacity to contain the weeping maelstrom in her arms. And wasn’t that just like Holly? She’d give damn near everything if she loved you.

  “Um, there was one thing.” He stepped back toward his brother and let the curtain fall shut. “I thought I should take them to Mom’s place. Maybe Portia will be better there until we can sort the passport thing out.”

  Richard moved up to peer silently over his shoulder.

  Holly and Portia were locked in their private communion. It was one of a handful of unguarded moments Josh had seen with Holly. Her face was wistful and melancholy, her head hung in defeat.

  Richard murmured his agreement about the house.

  More than anything, the look on her face got to Josh.

  Holly wasn’t helpless, and she didn’t give up or give in. At times she was only marginally more congenial than a ferret, but she didn’t allow herself to be brought down.

  Josh wanted to make it go away for her. He wanted to rush in and take the burden off her dainty shoulders and heft it around for her. The only thing stopping him was that she’d probably cut off his balls before she allowed it.

  Holly caught sight of them and her face settled back into the fierce lines he was used to. Only in flashes did he catch the softer, hurting woman.

  “Hey,” he said. “Richard will see to getting her released, and we were thinking maybe we should take you two back to my mother’s house.”

  “Joshua?” Portia stuck her head up and wriggled free of Holly’s arms. She scooted off the bed and got to her feet. Her eyes gleamed at him, tears swelling up in their depths. “Joshua.”

  “Hello, Portia.” Something was very off, and the skin on his nape prickled.

  “I thought you’d never get here.” Her cheeks flushed pale pink and her hands drifted over her stomach as she gazed at him with the sort of abject hero worship that made his guts tighten.

  Over her head, Holly frowned, her dark brows a violent slash across the peach of her skin.

  “We had some trouble finding you.”

  “I’ve been waiting to tell you our news.” Portia’s lashes lowered over her eyes and she took a step into his space.

  “Our news?” He was getting a bad, bad fucking feeling here.

  Portia put a hand to his chest. “About the baby.”

  It was an elegant hand, with long fingers and clean nails at the tip, stark against the fabric of his shirt, and he took it away. He had a sort of surreal, out-of-body thing taking over.

  “Portia?” Holly came up behind her sister and touched her on the elbow.

  Portia shook Holly’s touch off.

  Holly’s midnight eyes went dark as an abyss.

  “Are you happy?” Portia beamed adoration that made him want to gag. She touched her flat belly almost reverently. “You are happy, aren’t you? About the baby?”

  “Portia, I don’t understand.” The world seemed to tip and reel under his feet. He was very much afraid he did understand.

  As if she were his lodestone, Holly drew his gaze. Her eyes gleamed hard and black as pitch.

  “Oh, Joshua.” Portia launched toward him, her arms like manacles around his neck.

  Instinctively Josh wanted to shove her away, but he stopped the impulse and grasped her arms and pulled them from around his neck.

  “It doesn’t matter now because you’re here. You came, darling. I knew you would come. As soon as you found out about the baby, I knew you would come. Are you happy, Joshua? Tell me you’re happy about the baby.”

  “Jesus.” Josh stepped away from her as if she was radioactive. His mind blanked as he tried to form the denial in coherent sentences. He shook his head and kept his eyes on Holly. “No.”

  Holly stood frozen in place, her eyes wide with shock and her face pale.

  “No.” His glib tongue totally deserted him. Now, when he desperately needed the right words, his ability to speak had abandoned him. Helpless rage surged through him.

  Portia tried to get closer to him, and his hands shot out and held her at bay. “No.”

  Why was Holly looking at him like that? “I never touched her.”

  Questions crowded her expression.

  Portia’s eyes filled with tears. “But Joshua?”

  Holly put her arm around the younger woman’s waist. She murmured quietly to her sister.

  Portia subsided into a wounded silence.

  The slow boil of his temper simmered below the surface of his skin. He clenched his fists until his knuckles ached. He didn’t dare lose it here. “Let’s get back to the house and then we can talk.”

  Holly had that stubborn twist around her mouth, like she might refuse.

  “You have nowhere else to go and we need to sort this out,” he said.

  “What’s wrong, Joshua?” Portia stared up at him. “Aren’t you happy?”

  Christ. He wanted to shout a denial. He wanted to physically force the lies back into her mouth.

  “Josh?” Richard’s hand was strong and sure on his arm. “Not here and not now.”

  “It’s not—”

  “I know,” Richard said.
r />   A hot, sweet wave of relief flowed over him. The blood drained to his extremities and he wanted to sit down.

  “I know you,” Richard said.

  Josh nearly hugged his brother. He settled for a nod and a slap on his shoulder.

  “And I can count,” Richard continued in a quiet undertone. “Not even you can work that fast.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Josh parked in front of a Willow Park red brick Edwardian that showed signs of being lovingly restored.

  “This isn’t your condo.” Holly spoke for the first time since they’d left the hospital.

  Portia was jammed in the tiny backseat and she leaned forward, between them, to look out the window.

  “No, it isn’t.” Josh got out of the car and walked around to open the door, but Holly got there before him. Already helping Portia out.

  “Where are we?” Holly asked as he hauled Portia’s bags from the trunk. She’d followed him around to the back of the car.

  Portia stood to one side, listlessly looking around her.

  “We’re at my mother’s house. I mentioned it earlier, before—Christ!” Josh stormed up the neatly paved pathway to his mother’s front door.

  A week ago he’d been living the life of Riley and now this. The Partridge sisters had tracked him down and systematically dismantled his perfect life, piece by piece. What the hell was he thinking, still standing in the middle of the wreckage and helping them do it? If he had any good sense left, he would pack them off to a motel and walk away.

  Holly stood beside his car, the one she’d called a penis, in her badly fitting clothes and looking like she bore the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.

  His muscles clenched in protest. He wasn’t going to pack them off anywhere.

  “And your mother is okay with this?” Holly had a good game face, but her vulnerability shimmered in the air around her.

  He must be the only person on the planet, Holly included, who got how fragile she was. And did that make him an idiot or the rest of the world blind? Fucked if he knew either way.

  “My mother isn’t here.” He cranked the key in the lock with more vehemence than necessary. The door jammed, reminding him it needed more finesse to open the old girl. He needed to get it together. He gently twisted slightly to the left and up. The door opened. “And if she were, she would be fine with this.”

  “Why here?”

  The woman was going to kill him. That was for damn sure. She couldn’t take a helping hand without checking it over to make sure there wasn’t a concealed dagger. The anger bled out of him.

  Life had taught Holly that lesson. His chest ached for her. She’d always taken care of her sisters at school, and it looked like she still was.

  “It’s quieter and there’s more space. I thought it would suit … your sister better.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say Portia’s name. He knew she was sick, he got it, but naming him her baby daddy scraped him raw. Worse was the suspicion that Holly believed her. God knows, the lady had no high opinion of him in the first place.

  The two women trailed him into the entrance hall, looking around them like a pair of stray cats. Josh opened another door and motioned them through. “The kitchen,” he said. “Make yourselves at home. There probably isn’t much here, but I’m sure you can find a cup of coffee. None of the bedrooms are being used; pick whichever one you like.”

  “Where are you going?” Holly’s voice stopped him.

  The truth? He was going to drive around the block as many times as it took to get his frustration under control. He needed to talk to Holly, but not while his fight/flight reflex held the reins. “I’m going back to the condo to fetch some stuff. I’ll pick up some basics. Anything specific you need?”

  The way his day was going, he braced for one of them to ask for tampons.

  “No.” Holly shook her head. “We’re good.”

  Of course they didn’t need fucking tampons. One of them was pregnant. Ah, Christ. It crashed down on him. How the hell was he going to deal with this?

  Holly couldn’t believe he’d slept with Portia. Even if she had no faith in him, she was a math whiz kid. She could add the months, same as Richard had.

  The ground beneath him was unstable and shifting and he didn’t like it. He needed answers and certainty and things to fit into place. Even if Holly did believe he hadn’t fathered Portia’s baby—what then?

  Holly tucked Portia into bed. She ached like she was a hundred years old.

  “Whose room is this?” Portia looked around her with cursory interest.

  “Thomas’s,” Holly said. “He’s the younger brother. Wasn’t he in the same year as you?”

  “I don’t remember.” Portia rolled over onto her side and ended the conversation.

  “No,” Holly said, as if she hadn’t been dismissed. “Actually, I believe he’s a few years older than you. Didn’t he have a skateboard?”

  A big blond boy beamed underneath his graduation cap from a photograph on the bedside table. He wasn’t as dark as his older brothers, but the clean, handsome lines of his face marked him a Hunter brother. That and the direct, unwavering glance of those clear blue eyes. All the Hunters were good-looking boys, but Joshua still took the blue ribbon.

  She pushed down a huge sigh. Josh Hunter was going to be a problem in her life again, but for a whole other reason. She wanted to tuck herself under the strong, clean line of his chin and have him tell her everything was going to be all right.

  God, he must be mad enough to chew nails right now. Mad enough to want nothing more to do with the Partridge sisters.

  This was insane. Two days ago she’d have put her head on a block she would never see Josh Hunter again. Just a smidge over forty-eight hours later and she needed to be near him so much she ached with it.

  Portia’s eyes drifted shut and Holly made a move to climb off the bed.

  Portia’s eyes popped open. “Stay.” Her sister still didn’t look at her but closed her eyes. “Stay, Holly, like you used to when we were little and we couldn’t sleep.”

  But you’re not little anymore.

  Her sister’s face relaxed as she got drowsy.

  You’re not little anymore, but I’m still stuck on the end of the bed, watching you sleep. It had to be some kind of deep and meaningful metaphor. What the hell? She wasn’t going to do metaphoric today. Holding her head up on her shoulders was more than enough.

  The room was like being part of The Dangerous Book for Boys. Everything was neat and in its place, but the room still spilled testosterone in messy, invisible leaks. Boy stuff littered every surface, rugby posters of big men with cabbage ears and battle-scarred legs and arms rubbed shoulders with Miss September of the surgically enhanced body.

  Portia lay still under the bold diagonal stripes of the duvet. The red contrasted harshly with her wan features.

  Holly smoothed back a strand of her hair. Questions she couldn’t ask bubbled up, and she distracted herself by reading book titles.

  Trophies propped the ends of a row of books on the rickety bookshelf. Charles Dickens and Jane Austen kept time with The Principles of Statistical Thermodynamics and Advanced Calculus. A raft of engineering tomes made Holly tired looking at them and, right beside them, an extensive collection of science fiction and fantasy.

  The contrast to Josh’s clinical condo struck her. All of Thomas Hunter lay around her, for her to see and understand, a visual clue to the man.

  Josh’s beautiful, perfect condo gave nothing away. Rather like the man himself, a beautiful disguise hiding the real man beneath it.

  Portia’s chest rose and fell in a more relaxed rhythm.

  Holly got comfortable while she waited. The men in this family liked their beds big. The king mattress swallowed her and Portia.

  Holly had helped her bathe and washed her hair before tucking Portia into bed. Portia was tired and overwrought. A good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure her, but it would certainly help—stability was the key. It
was the most important thing for Portia. She needed things to be secure and familiar. Stress was a trigger, and Holly did what she could to mitigate the effect on her sister’s life.

  Melissa hadn’t stood a chance with their vagrant lifestyle.

  Portia’s eyes grew heavy.

  A fist of sadness clenched in her chest. It was such a large, crushing disease against impossibly frail Portia.

  “Are you still there, Holly?”

  “I’m here, Portia.”

  Down the hallway, the low murmur of voices indicated the brothers were in the kitchen.

  Josh had returned some time ago with the unmistakable growl of the XK-E. He’d stayed as far away from them as he could this evening, and Holly didn’t blame him.

  What were they talking about? Probably her and her screwed-up family. The old horror of having their secrets found out tightened in Holly’s stomach.

  Francis would have been horrified at someone seeing behind the perfect facade the Partridge family presented to the world: Francis, the world traveler and professional engineer, with his beautiful Venezuelan wife and their four lovely girls. It was the picture the family preserved at all costs.

  Your girls are not so lovely. They are broken and scarred, and you’ve left them behind now that you have a new family to play with. One of them has the same disease as her mother, the other is a flake who does what she can to perpetuate the myth that life is a fairy tale. The second oldest has ruthlessly constructed her world in an ordered and antiseptic fashion that has no space for messy and ugly. And your oldest daughter …

  She must have made a sound because Portia glanced over. “Did you say something?”

  “No.” Holly closed her eyes. She was tired; that’s what was wrong with her. It had been an eventful day, all things considered: the stress of looking for Portia, the relief of finally finding her, and the shock of the pregnancy.

  Tomorrow was another day. Holly stretched her mouth in a grim smile. Unfortunately, it threatened to be the same as today.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Holly couldn’t quite summon up the energy to do anything about her hunger.

  She wandered into the kitchen, a large, homely room. Unlike Josh’s condo, there were signs of life everywhere. The notices pinned to the fridge, the jumble of boots and coats in the corner, and the collection of misshapen pottery lined up on the windowsill. School projects from long ago, proudly on display.