“Your mother loved that girl, you know. Or maybe you don’t. Of course, Jeannie would have taken in every needy kid in the world, if she could have,” Preston said on a slight laugh. “But that one had a special place in her heart. She said Kelly always seemed so...fragile. Like she’d break if you looked at her funny.”
Before Matt could interject, his father continued. “Her parents’ fault, if you ask me. They were good people, don’t get me wrong. And your mother and I liked them well enough. But there’s a fine line between protecting your kids and smothering them. And they crossed it.”
“Huh. Sabrina said pretty much the same thing.”
“We could never figure out how the girl could hang around your sister—hell, any of you kids—and not have some of that spunk rub off on her. But it didn’t. At least not before her father died, and her mother and she moved away.” He paused. “How’s she doing?”
“Hard to tell. Although I think she found that spunk. At least enough to get herself and her kids out of what sounds like a bad situation.”
“Spunk, hell. That takes guts. Which you know.”
His father was only echoing what Matt had said to Kelly that morning. Words Matt had meant with every fiber of his being. So why did he feel like rats were gnawing at him from the inside out?
“So you’re okay, then,” he said, “with her being here?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Can’t tell you how often your mother mentioned Kelly after they moved. Asked Sabrina if she’d heard from her, how she was making out. And I know for a fact if Jeannie were still here, she’d be gratified that Kelly felt she could come to us. So you take good care of her. And as it happens...I was going to call tonight, anyway. Think I might stay down here a little longer.”
“Really? How much longer?”
“Haven’t decided.” Pop laughed. “Although the way the weather’s been up there, I may not come back until June. I didn’t figure you’d mind.”
“Um, no, of course not—”
“Abby okay? The other boys?”
The “boys” being Matt’s adopted brothers. Tyler, the youngest, was always “okay,” as far as Matt could tell, his salvage business growing like gangbusters as he went through girlfriends like popcorn. Matt’s older brother, Ethan, however, was another case entirely, parenting four kids on his own after his wife’s death three years earlier.
But they were all adults now, making their own choices and decisions. After raising them, not to mention everything their father had gone through during their mother’s illness, the old man deserved to live his own life. Have a little fun. Soak up the Florida sunshine. So Matt reassured the Colonel they were all good, to go frolic with the gators as long as he liked.
The call finished, and it occurred to Matt that, actually, the whole making-your-own-choices thing was a crock. Or at least a myth. Especially when fate had other ideas.
Because if it were up to him, he thought, stopping in front of a toy-store window, he’d still be married. Maybe a dad himself by now. If it were up to him—he went inside, just to look—redheaded crushes from his past would have stayed in his past, not shown up in his present to seriously mess with his head. If it were up to him—he picked up a Star Wars LEGO set, put it back, picked it up again—his sister would have given him every reason to boot said redhead back to Haleysburg to work out her problems with her ex. And his father wouldn’t have twisted the knife by playing the your-mother-would-have-wanted-this card.
The mother who’d saved his sorry butt when he’d been too little to know his butt needing saving.
Never mind the risk involved, he thought as he plunked the LEGO set, as well as a brightly colored sock monkey, on the counter by the cash register and pulled out his wallet, should he get involved.
His phone buzzed as the cashier handed him back his credit card, the bagged toys. And not only to your career, bonehead, he thought when he saw Kelly’s name and number in the display, and his heart thumped.
“Hey...what’s up?” he said, aiming for casual...which went right out the window when he heard Kelly’s next-door-to-hysterical laugh in his ear. No, not a laugh, some sound that defied description. Now outside, his hand tightened around the phone. “Kelly—?”
“Rick’s dead,” she choked out, then burst into sobs.
Chapter Four
It wasn’t until the front door opened that Kelly realized she hadn’t moved from the floor in front of the family room sofa for more than an hour. The dog sashayed out, only to return a moment later with Matt, who immediately kneeled in front of her, his gaze focused. Kind, yes, but all business. Thank God.
“Where’s the kids?” he asked.
“With your sister. She’d offered to take them to Target while I went over to the kitchen. My catering kitchen, I mean. I’ve got a job this weekend....” Bile rose in her throat. She shut her eyes, willing the world to stop spinning. Matt wrapped his hand around hers. She didn’t object. Couldn’t.
“What happened?” he asked gently, and her stomach twisted. A hundred times, she’d probably replayed Lynn’s words in her head, but she hadn’t yet said them out loud.
“Best guess is a heart attack,” Kelly whispered, keeping her eyes averted. Afraid to look at Matt, knowing she’d fall apart if she did. Even more afraid to acknowledge the vicious, nonstop voices inside her head that it was her fault, that she’d given up and walked away and now he was dead and it was her fault, her fault, her fault.... “But no one knows for sure. His m-mother found him in his room. The poor woman....”
Her eyes flooded again as sadness swamped her. Letting go of her hand, Matt grabbed a box of tissues from the end table, held it out. Kelly yanked one from the box and pressed it to her mouth until she could speak.
“Rick was Lynn’s only child. She was already heartsick. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I should be with her, but I couldn’t leave until—”
The garage door rumbled open. Kelly’s eyes shot to Matt’s as her heart bounded into her throat. He’d gone perfectly still, his breathing calm and steady, like Rick’s had been in the delivery room with Coop, back when things were good. When she’d taken “forever” for granted, could have never imagined what would happen. But now it was Matt holding her gaze, being a rock in the midst of her turbulent emotions, helping her breathe through a pain she doubted anyone else would understand. And for the moment—since this is all it was, this freakish, momentary intersection of their lives—she was grateful.
She struggled to her feet. “I should get the kids’ things together.”
“Why?” Matt said, standing, as well.
“Um, so we can go back home? Since we don’t need to hide out anymore?”
“Plenty of time to do that tomorrow. Or whenever.” At her undoubtedly puzzled expression, he said, “Don’t you think it might be better to let the kids stay in a neutral zone for now? Especially Cooper.”
Cooper. Oh, dear God. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “How am I going to t-tell him, Matt?” At his frown, she said, “It wasn’t all bad. I swear. Not for a long time, at least. Coop used to worship his daddy. And I think what hurts the most is that, in spite of everything, he probably still does. Or at least wants to.”
For a moment, something sharp flickered through Matt’s eyes. Then his gaze softened. “Do you want me to tell him?”
Not in a million years was that going to happen. Even so, catching her haggard reflection in a nearby mirror, she sighed. But then, why shouldn’t she be upset? Whatever had happened between her and Rick, this was a horrible shock. Was going to be horrible for some time. And to pretend otherwise would be hideously unfair to their son.
“Thanks. But no.”
“You sure?”
Not at all. But such was life, right? Nodding, Kelly turned back to Matt. Concern buckled his forehead and her heart swe
lled. For his goodness, if nothing else. That he’d grown up even better than she’d imagined he would.
Whereas she was still a very shaky work in progress.
“I’ve spent far too much of my life avoiding the hard stuff, letting other people run interference for me. The last thing I need to do right now is let Cooper think his mother is a wuss.”
“He will never think that,” Matt said softly, a moment before Abby and the children burst into the room. Coop took one look at her and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
Not even bothering to check her tears, Kelly opened her arms.
* * *
“What’re you doing out here?”
Slouched in one of the big rattan chairs in the sunroom off the dining room, Matt shrugged at Abby’s question. “Thinking,” he said, stretching out one foot to lay it on the matching ottoman.
“That’s not like you,” she said, and he smiled in spite of the knot in his chest. “You okay?”
“Me being okay isn’t the issue.”
Abby tromped across the terra-cotta-tiled floor and dropped into another chair a few feet away. “Which is why I don’t get why you’re out here and not in there.”
“Did you see the look Cooper gave me after Kelly told him about his dad?”
“Please don’t tell me you think that was really aimed at you? For God’s sake, the kid was in shock.”
Punching out a frustrated breath, Matt pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids, still trying to figure out how the world could go ass-over-teakettle in less than a day. Bad enough that some chick he’d never expected to see again shows up out of the blue, but then her ex—who was the reason for her showing up to begin with—dies? Holy hell. Although you’d think, considering how often life had clobbered him in the past, he’d be used to it by now. Coop, however...
Matt squinted against the glare of late-day sunlight slashing across the leftover snow outside. No, he didn’t know the kid. Or, beyond what Kelly had told him, anything about his relationship with his father. But he understood the upheaval and uncertainty, the “what comes next?” the kid was probably feeling. And Abby was right, the boy’s reaction wasn’t personal. In fact, it had nothing to do with Matt. A fact that would probably make a lot of men sigh in relief.
Except relieved was one thing he most definitely was not right now, logic be damned. Frustrated as hell was more like it—
“You’re pissed that you can’t fix this, aren’t you?” Abby said, startling him.
“What?”
A slight, slightly smart-ass smile touched his sister’s mouth before she stood, contorting her arms into the most painful-looking position to crack her spine. Then, releasing what sounded like a blissful sigh, Abby punched her hands into her hoodie pockets. “I know that look. God knows I’ve seen it often enough. And not just on your face. On Dad’s, too. Never mind that you haven’t seen this woman in years, that you don’t know these kids. If someone’s in trouble, you want to make it better. No...you have to. Am I right?”
Glaring at the backyard, Matt locked his hands behind his head. “Yeah. And maybe that’s why I do what I do.”
“And we all love you for it,” his sister said, leaning over to give him a quick hug. “Most of the time, anyway.”
Matt pushed out a dry chuckle and Abby straightened, her hands in her pockets again. And maybe it was the light, or because his brain was on overload, but suddenly he saw a...seriousness behind the sparkle in those bright blue eyes he’d never noticed before. Huh. His baby sister was all grown up.
Then her gaze shifted to the open French doors behind him. Matt twisted around, surging to his feet when he saw Kelly in her coat and scarf, her curls abandoned to fend for themselves. In the stark light she looked paler than ever, her hand tightly fisted around the purse strap straddling her shoulder.
“I hate to ask, but...” A nervous smile flickered around her mouth, apology screaming behind those ridiculous glasses. “I really do need to go see Rick’s mom for a little while, but...I’m not sure I should take the kids—”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby said. “I’d be glad to watch them, but I’ve got to get back to work—”
“You go on, Abs,” Matt said. “I’ll stay.”
“You’re sure?” Kelly said as Abby hustled past her. “I mean, if it’s a problem I’ll take them—”
“Kelly, for crying out loud, I ride herd with Ethan’s rugrats all the time. I’ve got this, okay?”
“Except these rugrats just lost their father. I mean, Aislin’s okay—about that, anyway, she doesn’t really understand what’s going on, although God forbid you give her the wrong sippy cup, your ears will never be the same. But Coop...” Her chin trembled for a moment, killing Matt. She looked back—no, more like leaned back—into the house. “He didn’t say a single word when I told him. Didn’t cry, nothing.” Worried eyes met his again. “Is that even normal?”
Given what she’d said? The kid’s emotions were probably more tangled than Kelly’s hair. “Everyone reacts differently—”
“I shouldn’t leave him, should I? I mean, I know Lynn needs me, too, she doesn’t have anyone else, but she is an adult. Damn it—” Kelly shoved the heel of her hand into her temple. “Why can’t I figure out what to do?”
Speaking of tangled emotions.... “It’s okay,” Matt said, wanting to hold her. Wanting to run. Most of all, to wind back the clock. “Really. We’ll all get through this, I promise.”
After a moment, she nodded, clutching that purse strap like she’d fall into the abyss if she let go. “I should be back by dinnertime. I hope. And they’re in the family room, watching a movie—”
At that, Matt took her by the shoulders, gently swiveling her toward the front door. “You can call me every five minutes if it’ll ease your mind. But the sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment before, with another nod, she left.
In the family room, Aislin lay on the carpet, staring blankly up at the beamed ceiling, thumb in mouth. Matt figured the toddler had five minutes, tops, before she zonked out. Coop, however, was scrunched up next to Alf in the sectional’s corner, head propped in hand, gaze fixed at the garishly hued figures cavorting across the fifty-inch screen.
“Hey,” Matt said softly. Alf thumped her tail, but neither kid responded. Matt entered the room, the seen-better-days recliner wobbling and groaning when he sat on its edge.
“You don’t have to stay,” Coop said, not looking at Matt. “I’m watching Linnie.”
“I can see that.” Matt leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “Just checking in.”
God knew he’d been around enough kids that they didn’t scare him, like they did some men. Actually, he thought they were pretty awesome, the way they processed the world around them, how they’d say whatever popped into their brains. Ethan’s brood slayed him, the stuff that came out of their mouths. Of course, some kids were harder to read, to connect with. Same as adults. But Matt discovered some time ago he liked the challenge, figuring out how to make that connection. Like the Colonel used to do. Yeah, he’d studied under the master, for sure.
“Whatcha watching?”
Coop gave the tiniest shoulder shrug and said, “I’m not. But movies help Linnie fall asleep, so Mom put it on.”
Matt nodded, then asked, “You okay?”
The boy reached up to rub his eye underneath his glasses, knocking them askew. Shoving them back into place, he shrugged again.
“Hungry?”
Alf lifted her bearlike head, ears perked, her tail thumping with a little more oomph. Dogs were supposed to understand about one hundred and fifty words, Matt had heard. In Alf’s case, at least ninety percent of those were food related.
“No. Thanks.”
>
The beast swiveled her massive head toward the boy, before, with an equally massive doggy sigh, lowering her chin back onto her front paws. From a few feet away, Matt caught the slow-motion drift to earth of Aislin’s hand as her thumb disconnected from her sagged-open mouth. He pushed himself up to grab the afghan from the back of the sectional, crouching to carefully drape it over the now-sleeping baby.
“Mom does that, too,” Coop said behind him, and Matt glanced over his shoulder. His forehead slightly knotted, the boy was looking at his sister. “Lets her sleep wherever. Because she’ll wake up if you try to move her.”
Stretching out his back muscles as he rose, Matt smiled. “Abby was like that, too. So I know the drill.”
“Abby said you took care of her a lot when she was little.”
“We all did. All of us kids, I mean. She was like another pet. But louder. And smellier.”
Coop sort of smiled. “Mom said Linnie doesn’t know. That Dad died.”
Matt sat again on the recliner. “She’s a little young, yeah.”
“So she won’t even remember him?”
Sad though the conversation was, that the boy was even talking to him warmed Matt through. It took a lot to earn a child’s trust. As well he knew. “Maybe not. I sure don’t remember anything from when I was three. Do you?”
The boy’s forehead scrunched harder. Then he shook his head. “Not really.” He shifted on the sofa; the dog shifted right with him. Then they all fell into a silence so brittle Matt could practically feel the air molecules shattering between them. A silence brought on, he suspected, by a little boy’s holding in a boatload of thoughts and feelings that would only keep multiplying and expanding until they nearly strangled him. He knew that drill, too.
“Um...if you want to keep talking, I’m a pretty good listener.”
This time, Coop shot him an are-you-nuts glance, then faced the TV again. “Why would I do that?”
“Because sometimes it helps. To get all the stuff crammed in your head out of your head—”
The Real Mr. Right Page 5