A Not-So-Perfect Past

by Beth Andrews

  Luke laid Hayley down. She didn’t even wake when Nina took her coat off and tucked her under the covers. Nina didn’t waste any time hauling her rear back out into the hallway. A good thing, too, since Luke was staring pensively at Nina’s closed bedroom door.

  She steered him down the hallway, not stopping until they were in the kitchen. “Thank you so much for bringing her home.”

  “Is she still sleeping?”

  Nina nodded. “I’ll stay on her floor tonight, in case she gets sick again.” She forced a smile, crossed her arms. Uncrossed her arms. “Anyway, it’s late and I’m sure you want to—”

  “Nina?” He stood with his hands on his hips. “What the hell is Dillon Ward’s truck doing in your driveway?”

  “Dillon’s truck?” Damn.

  “Yeah. His truck. The one covered in snow—which tells me it’s been here for quite some time.”

  “Uh…well…I…uh…had a few glasses of wine, you know, at the reception? And…uh…I didn’t want to drive home, so Dillon was nice enough to…” Heat climbed her neck. “Drive me home.”

  “That doesn’t explain why his truck is still here.”

  She swallowed. “He…uh…” She wiped her hands down the front of her pants. “His truck. It wouldn’t start. I mean, after we got here, something…it made this sound like ‘ping ping.’ We were lucky to even make it this far.”

  “Ping ping, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She licked her lips. “So Dillon walked back to the bakery. He said he’d call a tow in the morning…”

  “I see. Well, that makes perfect sense.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Right. Well, now you know. So, thanks again for bringing Hayley home. Good night.” She turned to get a bucket from under the sink.

  “So tell me,” Luke said, “when did you get that hickey on the back of your neck? Before or after the ping ping?”

  She slapped a hand to her neck and straightened. “It’s…it’s not what you think—”

  “What I think is you’ve lost your mind,” he hissed. “You barely even know this guy. And what we do know should send you running from him, not sleeping with him.”

  She really didn’t need this. She hadn’t had time to even figure out her own feelings about what had happened between her and Dillon. She didn’t need to listen to her brother’s opinion.

  She dragged him down the hall. “I’m done discussing this with you.” She opened the door and was blasted with cold air. “It’s late, I’m tired and I need to check on Hayley. And if you even think about telling anyone—and I mean anyone—about this, I’m going to make sure the entire town knows how you used to dress up in Blaire’s dance costumes.”

  “I was four!”

  “Were you? Seems to me you were much older. More like…fourteen?”

  He scowled. “Don’t even—”

  “Good night.”

  She shoved him onto the porch and slammed the door in his face. Leaning back against it, she listened to him pull out of the driveway.

  She shut her eyes and sighed. Who knew? Maybe she had a future with this bad-girl stuff after all.

  “You’re in my way.”

  Her eyes flew open. Not because Dillon’s voice was harsh or even all that loud.

  But because it was so cold, it chilled her to the bone.

  Worse, though, was the anger in his eyes. And the disappointment and hurt.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms. “Dillon, I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry about what, exactly?” He was dressed in his wrinkled coat, his tie balled up in his hand. He edged toward her, his walk so predatory, the look on his face so fierce, her stomach pitched. “Sorry your daughter got sick? Sorry your brother came over? Or just sorry we had sex?”

  He towered over her, his hair on end, stubble covering his cheeks and chin. Had she thought he was dangerous before?

  She kept pressed against the door but slid two steps to the side. Her throat constricted. But this was Dillon, she reminded herself. Not Trey. Dillon would never hurt her.

  Would he?

  She pushed away from the door. But when he raised his hand, she couldn’t help but flinch and shrink back.

  His expression twisted into a sneer. “And you thinking I’m going to wail on you is the perfect ending to a completely shitty situation.”

  He opened the door. “Dillon, wait. I didn’t mean—”

  “Save it.” He jerked away from her and stepped onto the snow-covered stoop.

  Her mouth fell open. What had she done? What had she said?

  “Oh, and you might want to do yourself a favor,” Dillon said over his shoulder. “The next time you invite an ex-con to spend the night with you? Make sure you cover your tracks better.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AT THE BAKERY Monday after school, Kyle dipped his paint roller into the tray of white primer and then slapped it on the new drywall. “This sucks.”

  Dillon, priming the wall next to him, grunted.

  Kyle plopped his roller back into the primer. “My arm’s tired.” He glanced down and swore at the white specks covering his favorite Rush T-shirt. “And my shirt’s ruined.”

  “I told you to wear old clothes.”

  “Yeah, well, you can just buy me a new shirt. Hey, I know, why don’t we get one of those spray painter things? You know, you fill it with paint and then—” He held up his roller and swept it from side to side like a spray painter—or machine gun. “The whole room’s done in, like, twenty minutes. That would be sweet.”

  “Watch it,” Dillon snapped. “You’re getting paint all over the floor.”

  Kyle lowered the roller to his side. “Isn’t that what the drop cloth’s for?” he muttered.

  Dillon’s lips thinned. “I’d like less paint on the ground and more on the walls.”

  “Fine.” Jeez, no need to get hostile. He glared at Dillon. Mr. Tightass didn’t care about anything like, oh, having fun.

  He ground his back teeth together. Hell, he’d even started thinking maybe this gig—working with Dillon and all—wasn’t so bad.

  Guess not.

  He’d sort of liked Dillon up until now, but he understood that things changed. And that he needed to trust his first instincts when it came to people. Look what happened when he’d started thinking Joe and Karen could be different—even if they still treated him decent. But he couldn’t forget how they freaked over a little pot.

  Adults. Who needed them?

  “You’re putting too much paint on your roller,” Dillon said coming up behind him. “You’ve got drips everywhere.”

  “So? We’re just going to sand it tomorrow, right? And that better be with an electric sander, ’cause there’s no way I’m doing it by hand.”

  “I’m the boss. You’re the worker. You’ll do what I tell you to do, how I tell you to do it. Got it?”

  “Dude, did somebody stick something up your ass over the weekend, or what? You are seriously tripping.”

  Dillon stepped forward, his expression dark. Ignoring his sweaty palms, Kyle pulled his shoulders back and straightened to his full height. So what if Dillon had at least five inches and a good fifty pounds on him? The guy got in his face, Kyle had to show he couldn’t be pushed around.

  Dillon just shook his head. “Forget it. Just…get back to work.”

  He stalked back to his own corner of the room. Kyle laid the roller against the wall. His hand trembled. He hadn’t been afraid. It was just adrenaline. He could’ve held his own against anything Dillon dished out.

  He wiped his free hand down the front of his jeans. Not that he had anything to worry about. Nothing made Dillon lose his cool.

  The door opened and Hayley and Marcus ran inside, followed by Nina. Hayley took her book bag over to the corner and started digging through it.

  “Hi, Kyle,” Nina said, giving him one of her dimply smiles. “How’s it going?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  Her smile became strained and her dimples disap
peared when she faced Dillon. “Can I get you two anything? A drink or—”

  “No,” Dillon said, not even looking at her.

  Kyle raised his eyebrows at Dillon’s abrupt, do-not-talk-to-me tone. He caught Marcus’s eye, shrugged a shoulder. He had no idea what the sudden tension in the room was all about. But he couldn’t wait to find out.

  Nina took a cautious step forward, as if Dillon was a chained dog and she wasn’t sure if she should get too close. “Are you sure? I made some—”

  Dillon’s pissed-off look shut her up real quick. “I’m sure.”

  Nina shrank back. Sort of like his last foster mother used to when her old man raised his voice. Which was smart, since once that bastard raised his voice, he usually raised his fist as well.

  “Here, Kyle.” Hayley held out a folded piece of green construction paper.

  “What’s this?”

  He opened it. Inside was a crayon-drawn Christmas tree, a bright yellow spot he guessed was some sort of star and colorful squares under the tree that must’ve been presents. On the left were the words: Thursday. 7:00. And My School.

  “It’s a invitation to my Christmas pageant,” she said, skipping over to Dillon. “I made one for you, too. It’s Thursday night and we get to dress up and sing three songs and then we’ll have cookies and drinks.” She clasped her hands together and smiled up at Dillon as he opened his invite. “Will you come? Please?”

  Nina laid her hand on Hayley’s shoulder. “Honey, Dillon and Kyle might be busy…”

  Hayley’s eyes filled with tears.

  Dillon sighed. “I’ll be there.”

  “Yay!” Hayley threw her arms around Dillon’s leg before turning to look at Kyle.

  He slapped the paper against his palm. Hang out at a grade school watching a bunch of kids sing dorky Christmas songs? Yeah. That sounded like a great time. Then again, he was still grounded. But if Joe and Karen thought he was going to the Christmas show thing, they might give him the night off.

  He grinned. “Sure. I’ll go, too.”

  Hayley clapped her hands and did a little hop. Then, since she got her way, she ran over to bug Marcus who now had his video game out and his headphones on.

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Nina approach Dillon again.

  She was either really stubborn. Or really dumb.

  “Dillon. Can we please—”

  “I need to get something out of my truck,” Dillon said, and he left.

  Nina nibbled on her lower lip, her shoulders hunched as she stared after him.

  Kyle went back to his work. Huh. Looked like someone could make Dillon Ward lose control after all.

  SHE BLEW IT. Again.

  “I have to…uh…do something in the kitchen,” Nina said to her kids. “You two get started on your homework, okay?”

  She hurried out to the back door, but couldn’t seem to make herself walk outside. She tugged at the edge of the turtleneck sweater she’d worn to cover Dillon’s hickey. She couldn’t go one more minute with this awful tension between them.

  She stepped outside. Dillon stood behind the open tailgate of his truck. She hugged her arms against the chill and crossed the parking lot.

  He shoved a toolbox across his truck. It hit the back of the truck bed with a clang and tipped over. He slammed the tailgate shut. “Feeling brave today, huh?”

  She took the blow without wincing. “I guess I deserved that for what I…for my reaction the other night—”

  “You mean for shrinking from me at the door as if I kick puppies for entertainment?”

  She shivered. “It was a…knee-jerk reaction.”

  “Right. Because I’m just like your ex-husband. Or maybe, given my violent history, you figured I always beat on women who piss me off. After all,” he said, crowding her until the backs of her thighs pressed against the cold bumper, “I am a killer.”

  “I know you would never hurt me.”

  She reached out but he stepped back. “You really don’t want to touch me right now.”

  She fisted her hand. “Listen, I didn’t mean to push you out of the house. I just didn’t want Hayley to wake up and find you there.”

  “You think I’m pissed because you put your kids first?”

  She frowned and stomped her feet in an effort to return feeling to her toes. “Well…what else could it be? The way you left, the things you said—”

  “I respect how you put your kids first. I can’t remember how many times I woke up as a kid to find some guy sitting at our kitchen table eating the cereal and milk that was supposed to be for me and Kelsey. You think I want your kids exposed to that? Or that I want to put you in the same category as my mother?” He shoved his hands in his pocket. “Your opinion of me keeps getting worse and worse.”

  “Then, tell me what I did. I want to under—”

  “You didn’t stand up.”

  She blinked, her teeth chattering. “Excuse me?”

  “To your brother.” The wind mussed his hair, made him hunch his shoulders. “You wanted me to stay hidden in your room, but not because of Hayley. Or at least, not just because of her.”

  “That’s not—”

  “When Luke said you’d lost your mind, that you should be running from me, you should’ve told him to stay out of your business. Should’ve made it clear that you’re strong enough to pick who you want in your life and in your bed. But you’re afraid.” Before she could defend herself, he added, “And I don’t have the time, patience or desire to slay your dragons for you.”

  “I…I…” She tried to find the words, the things she wanted to say. She didn’t need him to slay her dragons. She was a strong, capable woman who could handle herself, thank you very much. She didn’t need his help conquering her fears.

  She wanted to say all those things. But she couldn’t. Because they weren’t true.

  She couldn’t admit her failings—such as her miserable marriage. Or the humiliation of knowing she stayed with a man so abusive and manipulative that she couldn’t free herself or her children from him.

  She couldn’t change who she’d always been, who people expected her to be. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try. Because the idea of standing up to her family, of going against their expectations, or worse, of confronting Trey and her mistakes, left her stomach churning and her palms sweating.

  But she’d hurt Dillon. She could see that now. And that was worse, so much worse than just making him angry.

  “You’ve got this all wrong,” she insisted. “I wasn’t ashamed of being with you. I would’ve hidden any man Luke caught me with. Except I don’t want just any man. Dillon…I want you.”

  “Don’t. We just need to move on. What happened Saturday night was a—”

  “Don’t you dare say it was a mistake,” she said, her voice shaking. “Or I might just be the one who resorts to violence.”

  He studied her. “If not a mistake then a reminder. And a really good reason for us to keep our distance until I finish the job and leave town.”

  He walked back into the building. Despite the cold, she followed slowly. Why did she feel so empty…as if she’d just lost something important? Something vital.

  But that couldn’t be, she rationalized as she entered the kitchen. She’d never had Dillon—well, not his heart. And as he’d pointed out, she wasn’t strong enough to face other people’s opinions, their disappointment or derision if she and Dillon were a couple in an open relationship.

  She shut her eyes. She really was a wuss.

  But that didn’t mean she had to continue to be afraid her entire life, did it? If she didn’t want to live this way, she had to be the one to change things. To take chances.

  Be rebellious.

  And not just any rebellion. She didn’t want to be a bad girl; she just wanted to be herself.

  And she wanted Dillon. No matter what people said.

  Now all she had to do was convince him of that.

  She partially opened the door to the dinin
g room, saw Hayley at the table with the headphones on playing a video game. Dillon rolled paint on the wall while Marcus stood next to him. Kyle was nowhere to be found—which meant he’d gone out back to sneak a smoke.

  “I heard you say you were going to Hayley’s pageant thing,” Marcus said to Dillon, who grunted a response. “The little kids are singing and us bigger kids are doing a play but I just did set design since I like to draw so much.”

  Dillon dipped his roller into the tray of paint at his feet. “Cool.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I…I don’t want you to get mad or anything but I probably won’t talk to you.” His hair hung in his eyes. “My dad will be there and he doesn’t want me or Hayley to talk to you.”

  Her son’s voice trailed off and Nina’s heart lodged in her throat. She ducked out of sight but kept the door open enough to see and hear them.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Dillon said as he continued his even strokes. His expression gave none of his thoughts away. “We’ll pretend we don’t know each other.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could sit with you instead of Dad and Rachel, but that’s our night to go to Dad’s house.” He lowered his voice so that Nina had to strain to hear him. “I don’t even like going there but the judge says I have to. Plus, I need to make sure Hayley doesn’t do anything that will make Dad mad.”

  She covered her mouth to keep from sobbing. Oh, her poor baby.

  Dillon stopped painting and crouched so he was eye level with Marcus. “You know, I admire the way you take care of your little sister.”

  “You do?”

  Dillon nodded. “When I was your age I had to take care of my younger sister so I know how hard it can be. But you’re doing a great job.”

  Marcus blushed with pleasure. “Can I help you work today? I got my homework all done.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather play your video game or watch a DVD?”

  “Nah. I like helping you. You don’t call me a baby or stupid if I make a mistake.”

  For a moment, Dillon looked as stunned as Nina felt. She knew Marcus was talking about Trey. How many times had her son been put down or belittled by his own father?