by Beth Andrews
How many times had she thought she was protecting him by finding excuses for Trey’s behavior? All because she was afraid of rocking the boat?
“I could use some help,” Dillon finally said. “You ever paint a wall?”
“No.”
“Then I guess it’s time you learned how.”
She closed the door. Pressed a hand to her unsteady stomach. She’d made so many mistakes and now those mistakes, her failings and weaknesses were being pushed on her kids.
And she’d be damned if she’d let that happen.
AS SOON AS the Annual Serenity Springs Elementary School’s Christmas Pageant ended, Dillon jumped to his feet and headed to the nearest exit. The noise level rose as kids, parents and grandparents—all of whom had just sat through two hours of torture disguised as entertainment—started talking.
He couldn’t wait to get out of here. Nina had insisted he sit with her. And spending two hours with Nina on one side of him, her uptight, stiff parents on the other, had been another form of torture separate from listening to kids butcher holiday songs.
Even though the school gym was packed with people, Dillon didn’t have any trouble working his way through the crowd. He simply scowled fiercely, lowered his head and moved forward.
Everyone gave him a wide berth. Sometimes being the town outcast had its perks.
The lit EXIT sign beckoned, promising him solitude and escape. Just when he thought he was home free, someone ran into him, knocking him back two steps.
Dillon glanced down and frowned. Damn. Waylaid by a three-foot Santa. What were the chances?
“Sorry,” Santa—or in this case, the kid dressed up as Santa—mumbled before racing off to get in line for cookies and punch.
He took a step forward.
“Dillon, wait,” a small voice called.
He looked at the door longingly. So close.
No sooner had he turned around than Hayley, dressed in the same shiny, pink dress and white sweater she’d worn to Kelsey’s wedding, skidded to a stop beside him.
She grabbed his hand and grinned up at him. “You came!”
Well aware people were watching them—including Trey and his skinny wife—Dillon gently squeezed Hayley’s hand and then let go. “Hey, I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Is Kyle with you?” she asked as Nina joined them. “I didn’t see him anywhere.
“Sweetie, I don’t think Kyle made it,” Nina said.
Hayley frowned. “But he said he’d be here.”
“Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.” Nina brushed a hand over Hayley’s braids. “Now you’d better get yourself a cookie before they’re all gone.”
That perked the kid up. “I hope they still have those frosted ones.” Hayley took two steps, stopped and turned around. “I’ll get you both cookies too, okay? Mommy made the chocolate chip ones and they’re really yummy,” she told Dillon before running off.
And so he was stuck.
“Thanks for coming,” Nina said.
He nodded and looked over the people milling around the room. Anywhere but at Nina. Not when she stood so close and looked so good in her black slacks, high-heeled boots and clingy, red turtleneck sweater.
She shifted her coat from her left arm to her right. “Uh…so did you enjoy the show?”
Was she kidding? But she seemed serious enough. And very nervous. He wasn’t about to feel bad about the things he’d said to her. A man had the right to protect himself.
“Emma and Hayley’s song was the best,” he said, since Nina still looked at him expectantly.
She smiled. “True. Although I thought the Christmas rap song the fourth grade did was…unique.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Not as unique as that kid in the elf costume who break-danced.”
She laughed and several people close by sent them quizzical looks. Probably wondering what the hell she was doing talking to him, never mind what he was doing there in the first place.
Something he couldn’t help but wonder about, as well.
“Nina.”
She stiffened as Trey reached them. “Hello, Trey.”
“You look lovely.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her cheek, but she edged closer to Dillon’s side. Trey narrowed his eyes but kept his fake smile firmly in place as he nodded toward Dillon. “Ward. What are you doing here?”
Dillon looked over Trey’s shoulder to where Marcus was standing with his grandparents and stepmother. Remembered what the kid had said the other day about Trey telling Marcus not to talk to him. “My sister’s stepdaughter was in the pageant.”
“Yes, I saw Jack and his new wife. You didn’t sit with them.”
“Hayley invited Dillon to come tonight,” Nina said, shocking the hell out of him. And, by the lemon-sucking expression on Trey’s pretty-boy face, him, too. “Dillon’s been so great with both the kids—”
“Are you telling me,” Trey asked as he stepped closer to them, “that you allow a murderer around our children?”
“Dillon’s past is just that,” Nina said. “It has nothing to do with the man he is now.”
“He killed a man. A fact you seemed to have conveniently forgotten. While your naiveté is…refreshing…” Trey’s voice practically dripped with condescension. What a prick. “I need to know I can trust you to keep our children safe.”
Nina drew herself up to her full height. “I’d never do anything to endanger my children. They’re safe with me. And with Dillon.”
Trey shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I hate to do this, Nina, but if you insist on associating with criminals, you leave me no choice.” He nodded a greeting to a middle-aged woman who passed by and then turned back to Nina. “I’m going to ask the court to grant me full custody.”
Nina’s face lost its color but before she could respond, Dillon said, “No need for the courts to get involved. I’m leaving town in a few days.”
“No.” Nina pushed past him to face Trey. “You can’t bully me, Trey. If you want to take me to court, go right ahead.” She shook her hair back, her back ramrod straight. She looked like a fluffy haired, pissed-off Christmas angel. “But I’ll fight you every step of the way. I’ll fight back.”
Dillon couldn’t help but lay his hand on her lower back. He just hoped she could feel what he couldn’t say. That he was behind her—literally and figuratively. That he believed in her.
Trey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nina, what have you gotten yourself tangled up in this time? I warned you about getting involved with him. How could you be so stupid?”
“Watch it,” Dillon warned.
Trey kept his eyes on Nina. “You’ve always suffered from low self-esteem.” To anyone who happened to overhear, Trey’s voice had just the right mixture of earnestness and caring.
But Dillon saw the anger in his eyes.
“That,” he continued, “plus the loneliness and inadequacy…That must be why you’re behaving irrationally.”
“You really are a piece of work,” Dillon said in awe. He glanced at Nina. “You aren’t buying any of this, are you?”
“Not a word.” But her voice shook. “Shall we go, Dillon?”
She took his arm, but before they got away from Trey, her ex said, “For God’s sake, Nina, have some self-respect. Do you want everyone here to know you’re his whore?”
“No,” Nina pleaded softly when Dillon took a step forward. His hands were already fisted and he could taste the need for violence, for vengeance for everything Trey had ever said and done to Nina, on his tongue. “Please don’t,” she said, pulling on his arm. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just walk away.”
He somehow allowed Nina to tow him along. One step. Then another. But at the third step, Trey’s low laugh reached him.
“She must’ve really improved in bed since I was with her.”
Then, the only things Dillon heard were Nina’s soft gasp and his own blood roaring in this ears.
And the sound of bones crac
king when his fist connected with Trey’s pointy nose.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BLAIRE HANDED Nina a wet paper towel. “Here. You have some blood on your cheek.”
“You’re kidding.” Nina grabbed the paper towel and raced into the small bathroom off Blaire’s kitchen. After leaving the school, she’d driven straight to her sister’s house with the kids—she wasn’t about to let go with Trey after what he’d pulled—then sent Marcus and Hayley upstairs to play with their cousins. Quickly, she filled Blaire in on what had happened.
Nina switched on the bathroom light and grimaced at what she saw in the mirror. She scrubbed at the tiny dots of blood covering her right cheek and jawline.
Dots of Trey’s blood.
Who knew a broken nose splattered blood like that?
“This is a nightmare,” she said as she returned to the kitchen. “I can’t believe Dillon punched Trey. At the Christmas pageant, in front of everyone!”
Blaire poured red wine into two tall glasses. “Well, I can’t believe I missed it. Of all the years to skip the cookies and punch. You think anyone got it on tape? Just about everyone there had a video camera.”
“God, how would I know?” Nina perched on one of the high-backed stools at the wide, granite-topped island. With its stainless steel appliances and dark cherry cabinets, the room was a gourmet cook’s dream. She shook her head when Blaire set a glass in front of her. “I can’t drink this.”
“Honey, if anyone needs a drink, it’s you.”
True. Nina lifted her glass with a trembling hand and sipped.
Blaire sat across the island from her. “So tell me what happened after Dillon punched that bastard.”
“Not much to tell. Trey stood there, blood gushing—”
“Did he do a Marcia Brady?”
Nina frowned. “What?”
“You know.” Blaire covered her nose with both hands. “‘Oh, my nose!’”
A smile tugged at Nina’s lips. She fought it. “No, he sort of grunted and swayed and then…well…he passed out.”
“What a wimp,” Blaire scoffed. She crossed her legs and sipped her own wine. “Okay, so Trey’s passed out on the floor, I assume pandemonium broke out amongst the kiddies and their parents—”
“Not quite,” Nina mumbled, remembering how the gym had gone almost completely silent. How everyone had stared at them. Pandemonium would’ve been preferable.
“What happened then?”
“Well, of course, Rachel rushed over to Trey and Dillon just…looked at me…” She shivered. She doubted she’d ever forget the expression on his face—the anger. The barely leashed violence. His white dress shirt splattered with blood. “And then he said he was sorry.”
He’d said he was sorry but she’d turned away. Her fears, her doubts, had all converged, and she’d realized that she didn’t know Dillon Ward at all. She’d wanted to believe he was different. That he was more than his past. But what if he wasn’t? What if everyone around her had been right?
And she’d been wrong. Wrong to believe in Dillon.
So she’d done the only thing she could. She’d gathered her children—who’d luckily been ushered into the hall by their grandparents—and walked away. Left Dillon standing in the middle of the room surrounded by people who mistrusted and feared him.
Left him to deal with it on his own.
“If you ask me,” Blaire said, “Trey deserved a punch in the nose for what he said about you. Did he talk to you that way when you were married?”
Nina avoided her sister’s shrewd gaze. But even now, she still couldn’t admit how bad her marriage had been.
“That’s not the point,” she insisted, supporting her aching head in her hands, her elbows on the cool countertop. “Dillon kept telling me I needed to stand up for myself, be who I want to be, take control. But when I did that, when I asked him to walk away from Trey, he wouldn’t.”
Blaire reached over and squeezed Nina’s knee. “Honey, he was defending your honor. That’s nothing to be upset about, that’s something to appreciate.”
“But I didn’t want him to defend me. I wanted to handle it on my own.” She fisted her hands in her hair. “I was the one Trey insulted, Dillon should’ve respected me.”
“He’s a guy. What did you expect him to do? Even my mild-mannered husband would take exception to someone insulting me. What’s this really about? You’re not letting what Trey said get to you, are you?”
Nina wiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I was scared,” she admitted just above a whisper.
“Of Dillon?”
“Not of him—he wouldn’t hurt me. But of the situation. Of his reaction.” She groaned and squeezed Blaire’s hand. “I’m such a coward.”
“Oh, honey, you’re not a coward.” Blaire smoothed Nina’s hair back. “But if you’re not scared of Dillon, I can’t help but wonder what you’re so afraid of.”
“Dillon kept telling me not to forget his past. What he’d done.” What she hadn’t wanted to face. “What if he was right? We both know I’m no good at reading people. Look at how Trey had me fooled.”
“Dillon’s not like Dad,” Marcus said from behind them.
Nina wiped her eyes and got to her feet. “Marcus, what—”
“Dillon’s not like Dad,” her son insisted. “He’d never hurt anyone.”
Nina crouched down and laid her hands on Marcus’ stiff shoulders. “You know what happened tonight. Dillon hit your dad.”
Marcus pulled away, his chin set stubbornly. “That’s because sometimes you have to stand up for what’s right and face down a bully, even if it’s hard or gets you in trouble.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Blaire murmured.
Nina suddenly felt dizzy. She staggered and reached out for the stool for support. “Oh, my God. What did I do?”
She knew what she’d done. She’d blown it. Again.
But this time, she would make it right. No matter what it took.
“Can the kids spend the night?” she asked Blaire.
“Of course. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going after Dillon. But first, I have a phone call to make.”
KYLE JOLTED AWAKE, his arms flailing as he fell out of the chair he’d been sprawled in to land on his hands and knees on the floor. “Huh? What?”
He squinted his eyes against the bright light and realized he’d woken up because someone had slammed a door hard enough to scare the crap out of him. As soon as the room stopped spinning—the result of pounding six beers in less than two hours—he was going to kick some serious ass.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Kyle followed the sound of the voice to where Dillon stood in the middle of the kitchen, a major pissed-off expression on his face.
Kyle struggled back onto the chair. “I was waiting for you.”
“How’d you get in?”
“It was easy.” He reached under his knit hat to scratch the side of his head. “You should get a better lock.”
Dillon’s face turned so red that for a moment, Kyle thought the guy’s head was going to explode. Boom! Like a cartoon or something. Which would be messy, but sort of cool, too.
“Well, Einstein,” Dillon muttered under his breath, “the next time you break into someone’s apartment, you might want to close the door.”
Kyle sat up. He hadn’t shut the door? Weird. But that would explain why he was so cold. Despite the coat and hat.
He got to his feet and saved himself from a header by placing both hands flat on the wooden table. “Can I crash here tonight?”
“No.”
“What?” he asked as Dillon left the room. He staggered after the man. “Why not?”
“Because you’re stoned.” Dillon went into his bedroom and switched on the light.
Kyle leaned against the doorway for support. “I’m not stoned. I just had a few beers—”
“You’re wasted,” he said, his voice cold and flat.
<
br /> “So I got a little buzzed. What’s the big deal?”
Dillon jerked open a drawer and took out a T-shirt, slapping the cloth against the top of the dresser. “The big deal is that you’re underage, on probation and you skipped out on Hayley’s pageant.”
“I was going to go to the pageant thing,” he mumbled, “but then I ran into a couple of buddies—”
“Bullshit.” Dillon was as angry as Kyle had ever seen him. “You never planned to go.”
“I told you,” he declared between his teeth, “I was going to go.” He snatched his hat off and hit it against his thigh. “Just let me crash on your couch and tomorrow I’ll make it up to her. I’ve already missed my curfew—” Yeah. Three hours ago. “And if I go back to Joe and Karen’s tonight, they’re going to freak.”
“Not my problem.” Dillon sat on the bed and pulled his shoes off. Threw them—literally threw them—into the closet. Kyle raised his eyebrows. The guy was seriously torqued about something. Then Dillon met Kyle’s eyes and he couldn’t move. “You promised Hayley you’d be there and you weren’t. If you’re not man enough to keep your promises, then you shouldn’t make them.”
“So I got a better offer. The kid’ll get over it. Besides, she needs to learn how to handle disappointment.”
Dillon stood, disgust clear on his face. “You’re a hell of a teacher.”
He shrugged out of his coat and let it drop to the floor. Kyle’s mouth popped open.
“Dude, is that blood on your shirt?” he asked breathlessly. He moved into the room as Dillon, his movements jerky, unbuttoned his blood-splattered shirt, yanked it off and tossed it on top of the garbage can. “What happened? You get in a fight?”
“You need to leave. Call Joe to come and get you. Now.”
A thought struck Kyle. “Holy shit. You didn’t kill someone else, did you?” Dillon turned so quickly, so angrily, that Kyle backed up two steps. He held up his hands. “Hey, it was just a question.”
“No, I didn’t kill anyone,” Dillon snapped as he bent and picked up his coat. “I broke Trey Carlson’s nose.”
“Nina’s ex?” Kyle asked as he hurried after Dillon down the hallway and back into the kitchen. “Why’d you break his nose?”