Nothing Between Us

by Roni Loren

  He held up a hand. “It’s fine. Really. No big deal.”

  Her hands fluttered around her coffee cup before grabbing and taking a sip. Awkward silence ensued.

  He sipped his coffee, watching her. “You can say whatever you’re thinking, Rowan. We’re off the clock, and I’m not going to be offended.”

  A little puff of breath escaped her. “I just never would’ve, I mean, it’s fine, but—good Lord, if you heard what some of the teachers say about you. They’d be crushed to know they were barking up the wrong tree.”

  He chuckled, back on comfortable ground. “I date both men and women, so equal opportunity. But I keep my private life private.”

  “Of course,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Which is why I feel like a jerk for barging in on you like this. I just didn’t want to have this conversation at school. That lawyer would’ve liked to keep you in the dark, but there’s no way I’m letting you walk into that interview to get blindsided.”

  “I really appreciate that,” he said, setting his cup down. “I’ll answer whatever questions they have. I want to do whatever it takes to get past this so I can get back to my students.”

  “You and me both,” she said, getting up from the stool. “And now I’ve taken enough of your time. I’ll let you get back to, well, whatever.”

  He smiled, enjoying seeing his usually unflappable boss blushing her face off. He had a feeling she was still picturing Keats in his very well-fitting underwear. “Any idea when they’re going to want to talk to me?”

  “This Friday. They need to do the Hickory Point interviews first. I’ll call you with a time,” she said, grabbing her purse from the counter.

  “I’ll be there whenever they need me.”

  He walked Rowan to the door and exchanged good-byes, keeping his nothing-bothers-me face in place. But when he shut the door, he leaned back and tapped his head against it. “Fuck me.”

  “Everything all right?” Keats asked, coming into the living room. He’d thrown on a T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts.

  “Not so much.”

  He leaned against the back of the couch. “What’s wrong?”

  “You know how I told you that kid’s parents hired a lawyer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, turns out he’s a nosy one. He’s digging into my background and talking to people from Hickory Point.”

  “What?”

  Colby laced his hands behind his neck and sighed. “They’re going to look into your disappearance, Keats. And they’re going to talk to your father. He lives in Burleson now, so the lawyer is driving down there early this week to see him.”

  Keats paled.

  “Does he know?” Colby asked. “Did you ever go back to tell him you were okay?”

  “No. He would’ve killed me.” He stared down at his hands. “I couldn’t go back.”

  “How did you manage to get a license? Or identification to work?”

  Keats looked like he might get sick. “When I turned eighteen, I went to the local police station to tell them who I was. I was tired of only being able to take jobs that paid under the table. I told them I didn’t want my family to be notified because my dad was abusive. They said they couldn’t make any promises, but nothing ever came of it, so I guess they just quietly closed the case.”

  Christ. Colby rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay.”

  “Is this going to mess things up for you? Like, are they going to hold what happened with me against you?”

  Colby pushed away from the door. “I didn’t do anything wrong back then, so no, it shouldn’t be held against me.”

  “But if they talk to my dad, who knows what kind of lies he’ll say about you? He could make you look really bad.”

  “I’ll figure it out. I’m a big believer that the truth usually prevails. It’ll work out.” He headed back toward the kitchen, needing more coffee for this kind of morning.

  Keats followed. “I could tell them who I am. My side of the story.”

  Colby pressed his palms against the counter, keeping his back to Keats. “Then I have to explain to my boss why the student I had no inappropriate relationship with was in my kitchen in his underwear.”

  Keats groaned. “What we’re doing now has nothing to do with back then.”

  “You know people wouldn’t see it that way. Best to lay low. I’ll handle it.”

  But Colby had a bad feeling that this wasn’t going to go well. Keats’s father had been a self-serving, cruel bastard from the get-go, and Colby had no doubt the guy had only gotten worse with age. Given the chance to screw with some “fag” teacher’s life, that guy would take it.

  But there was no way he was going to ask Keats to face that man. He could see that buried little-boy fear flash over Keats’s face at the thought that his father was less than an hour’s drive away. He wouldn’t put him through that.

  Colby walked over to Keats, who still looked to be freaking out a little at the news, and put a hand on the back of his neck, giving it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s start today over and leave this be for now. We have a naked woman sprawled in our bed who would probably appreciate a creative wake-up call. You game?”

  The wrinkle was still parked between Keats’s brows, but he gave a nod. “I’m always game.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Well, look who’s up and smiling a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile so early in the morning,” Leesha said as she adjusted the angle of her monitor for the video call.

  Georgia shrugged. “Always happy to talk to my infinitely wise therapist.”

  “Bullshit,” Leesha said, leaning back in her chair. “That is a morning-after smile if I’ve ever seen one. You’ve had that same smile every time I’ve talked to you lately. I guess things are still going well with the neighbor?”

  Georgia tried to swipe the goofy smile from her face. She could see it staring back at her in the little video chat box in the corner, but she couldn’t seem to keep it down long. Since last Saturday, when she’d stayed overnight at Colby’s for the first time, each day had been another step forward, another victory—not to mention another hot night. “Things are going really well.”

  Complicated. But well.

  “He’s a great guy. I’m having a good time with him.” And Keats. But she wasn’t going to tell Leesha that part. Her best friend wasn’t one to judge, but Leesha would flip the shrink switch and analyze it to death. She’d probably tell Georgia she was acting out or rebelling or something.

  Hell, maybe she was. But right now, for the first time in over a year, she felt like there was sun shining on her face. Things were looking up.

  “Uh-oh,” Leesha said. “He’s a great guy? You’re not getting serious about him, are you?”

  Georgia rubbed her lips together, smoothing the balm she’d swiped on before running over from Colby’s house to her own to make it in time for this call. “Would that be so awful?”

  Leesha grimaced. “Babe, I’m glad you have that capacity in you still. But now’s not the time to be starting something serious. It’s only a few weeks before we need you to move back here. I don’t want to see you get attached to a guy and be heartbroken when you have to break it off.”

  Georgia knew Leesha was speaking the truth, but she didn’t want to hear it this morning. Not after the amazing two weeks she’d had with the guys. The past few days had been the best of all. Waking up in the morning surrounded by their warmth and affection had felt more right than she wanted to admit to herself. And even though she knew it was temporary, she didn’t want to think about the end when it felt like so much was just beginning. “I could come back here after the trial.”

  Sympathy crossed Leesha’s face—the oh-honey look. “The trial could take months. He’d have to wait on you. And what if . . .”

  Georgia raised her palm, her happy mood plummeting. “Don’t
. I know what you’re going to say.”

  What if Phillip is acquitted? That was what Leesha was going to say. Georgia didn’t want to consider that possibility, but of course, she had, over and over again. It kept her awake at night.

  Leesha sighed and opened a drawer in her desk. She pulled out a stack of envelopes and set them on top of her day planner. “I wasn’t going to mention it because I didn’t want to add to your plate, but the lawyer said that you have the right to make the decision on it since technically it’s your mail.”

  Georgia leaned forward, wanting to reach through the screen and pick up the stack. “What are they?”

  “Letters from Phillip,” Leesha said, her frown lines marring her flawless mocha complexion.

  Georgia’s skin chilled. “I thought those had stopped when I moved away.”

  “No, he only adjusted where he sent them. He’s sent one every couple of days to my office since the last restraining order expired, but they’re addressed to you. I’m sure I broke some law, opening them without your permission, but I needed to make sure they weren’t threats or anything we could use against him in court.”

  “He’s too smart for that.”

  “Yes, he is. But you should know they’re long love notes. He says he wants to forgive you. He asks for you to take your accusations back. He wants to be together no matter what, blah blah blah.”

  Georgia closed her eyes and rubbed them. “He’s so goddamned sick.”

  “And obsessed, Georgia. If he walks out of that courtroom, he’s not going to give up on you. You need to be prepared for that, have a plan.”

  And that was when what Leesha was really trying to tell her settled in. Phillip wouldn’t stop. If he went free, he would focus everything he had on finding Georgia. And when he did, everyone she cared about would be at risk again. Maybe he wouldn’t “hurt” her because he loved her. But if he showed up and saw she was in a relationship, he would go mad with rage again. Both Colby and Keats would be in the line of fire.

  Phillip had tried to kill a man she had seen only a handful of times. He certainly wouldn’t hesitate to go after the two men Georgia was sharing a bed with every night.

  She would never be free if Phillip walked. She’d never be able to care about someone without wondering if Phillip was watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to quietly take that person out.

  She sat her elbows on her desk, put her face in her hands, and screamed in frustration.

  “I know, sweetie,” Leesha said. “I can’t imagine how impossible this feels right now. But we still have a good shot at getting him locked up. And if that doesn’t happen, we’ll figure out something for you so that you can feel safe. Renew the restraining orders, register things in a different name.”

  “I don’t want to be some goddamned sitting duck the rest of my life, Leesh,” she said, getting more pissed than scared now. “I can’t take it. I’ll kill the motherfucker first. I’d rather be in jail than running away my whole life.”

  Leesha frowned. “Let’s not go with that plan. Though I don’t blame you for considering it. Even when I know he’s too smart to do anything to me because it’d be too obvious right now, he’s got me looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. I check under my car for brake fluid every morning. I can only imagine what things have been like for you.”

  “There’s got to be something we can do, something more than we’re doing already.”

  “The best thing you can do is get yourself strong enough to come back home and face him in the trial. Your testimony is the best shot we’ve got.”

  “Oh, I’m going to be there,” Georgia said, not putting up bravado but really, truly believing it for the first time. “This bastard is not going to win. I don’t care if I need to ask one of the guys to sedate me and carry me into my plane seat. I’m going to get there.”

  Leesha’s expression turned puzzled. “One of the guys?”

  Shit. “Nothing. Long story.”

  Leesha still looked confused, but she didn’t push. “I know you can do this—and without sedation involved. You’ve been making leaps lately, just don’t let up now. Train like you’re going to be climbing Mount Everest. Every day push yourself a little more. We need you here, babe.”

  “I know,” she said, nodding and making plans in her head. “I promise. I’m not going to let anything . . . or anyone get in the way.”

  —

  Keats stared at the screen on the laptop, the letters starting to merge together after a while. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

  “How’s the résumé coming?” Georgia asked from her spot on the couch. She’d had her head buried in a stack of edits all morning and hadn’t said much to him at all. When he’d asked her if everything was okay, she’d assured him she was just busy. But he didn’t believe that work was what was bothering her. He’d sensed something was wrong when he’d first walked in today. She’d been distracted and jumpy. But obviously she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

  Keats stretched his neck and closed out of the window he’d been staring at—which had not been his résumé. He’d finished that on Wednesday and had already emailed a few out to job listings. “Okay. I think it’s pretty much ready to go. But I’m having trouble concentrating today.”

  She marked her place in the stack of pages. “Worried about Colby?”

  “He’s been up at the school for hours. That can’t be a good sign, right?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He has nothing to hide.”

  “But they talked to my father. That’s bad, George. He probably made Colby sound like some pedophile.”

  “Did Colby say that?”

  Keats shook his head. “All he would tell me was that they met with my father on Tuesday. But I heard him talking with his boss last night on the phone before you came over. I couldn’t decipher most of the conversation, but he was angry and called someone a backwoods bigot. I’ll give you one guess who he was talking about.”

  Georgia frowned. “He seemed okay this morning.”

  “He puts on the all-is-well face because he doesn’t want us to worry about him. He’s good at helping people with their problems, but he sucks at sharing his own.” Keats shifted in his chair. The thought that Colby was taking any flack for what happened back then made him want to jump out of his skin. “I just hate that he has to deal with this.”

  “It’s awful,” she agreed, concern on her face. “But I’m not sure there’s anything we can do to help except be there for him if he wants to vent.”

  Fuck that. He clicked the laptop closed, the address on the screen imprinted on his mind, and set it on the coffee table. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit on his hands and hope for the best. George and Colby might be optimists, but he’d learned not to make that mistake in life. You couldn’t trust that things would turn out okay, because so many times they absolutely didn’t. Even if it wasn’t right. Even if it wasn’t fair.

  He rubbed his palms on his jeans, nervous energy making his hands tremble.

  Georgia must’ve picked up on his agitation because she set aside her papers. “Hey, you okay?”

  He wet his lips. “You up for an outing this afternoon?”

  Her forehead scrunched. “We already did all the errands I needed this morning. What’d you have in mind?”

  “You want to keep practicing, right?” That was what she’d told him when he’d walked in this morning. She’d been raring to go, ready to run those errands, a new resolve in her whole demeanor.

  “Sure. I mean, every little bit helps.”

  He nodded. If he tried to do this for himself, he’d chicken out. But if he could convince himself that he was getting in the car to help Georgia and going where he needed to go to help Colby, maybe he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.

  “It’s a little bit of a drive. And I’m not going to promise
that I won’t turn around halfway there. But if you’re willing to come with me, I might be able to do it.”

  Her face was the picture of concern now. She leaned forward. “Where are we going, Keats?”

  “I need to see my father.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Keats couldn’t get out of the car. They’d driven the forty-five minutes, found the address Keats had memorized from the computer, and parked across the street. But the walk from Georgia’s car to the tired-looking house a few yards away seemed to stretch for miles in Keats’s mind.

  There was an older-model Ford truck sitting in the driveway with a Dallas Cowboys bumper sticker. Keats had no doubt it belonged to his father. The truck was an updated version of the one Keats had grown up with. His dad had simply switched colors when he traded in the other.

  But Keats couldn’t quite grab hold of the fact that the man who had tormented his memories for so long was in there, living some quiet life in small-town Texas. So many questions filled his mind. Had his dad grieved him? And what had his father told Keats’s older brother when he’d come back from overseas? Keats had always felt bad about leaving his brother behind without a word. They’d been close when they were kids, even though Justin was five years older. But when Justin had hit his teen years and become a star football player and then gone into the Marines, fulfilling all that their father wanted him to be, Keats had spent a lot of time resenting his golden boy of a brother. That hadn’t been Justin’s fault. Their father had created those bad feelings by always comparing the two of them—Keats always coming out on the short end.

  But the biggest question of all that plagued Keats as he sat there was how would his father react to seeing him now?

  Keats pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, a wave of nausea overtaking him.

  Georgia took his hand. “You don’t have to go in, you know? No one is making you do this.”

  Keats clasped her hand and tried to take a deep breath. She’d been intensely calm the whole ride down here, a solid support there next to him. He wouldn’t have been able to make it this far without her there. If she of all people could put her anxiety aside and be calm on his behalf, he could be brave enough to face this. “I need to see him.”