by Beth Andrews
“Don’t say that,” he snapped, yanking his hand away.
“Why not?” She smiled at him. “It’s the truth. I love you.”
Did she have to repeat it? The way Nina turned her back on him earlier, the way Kyle let him down tonight, only proved that hope was for fools.
“You’re delusional if you want someone with my history by your side,” he said, “and part of your kids’ lives. You think you can trust me? Depend on me? Lady, you barely know me.”
“I see you clearly. Do you?”
“I’m not dependable.” He hardened his heart against the hurt in her eyes and went for the final blow. “And from what I’ve seen, neither are you.”
She stepped back. “No. Don’t say that. I made a mistake—”
“We’ve both made mistakes. Let’s not make them worse.” He held out his hand. “Now, be a good girl and give me my keys.”
AS IF IN A TRANCE, Nina dropped Dillon’s keys into his palm and walked away. It wasn’t until she reached the table that anger began to trickle through the pain.
She didn’t even realize she’d picked up her cell phone until it hit the door—barely missing Dillon’s head.
He jumped and turned around. “What the hell—”
“How dare you throw my feelings back at me and then just pat me on the head?” Her voice was raw. She stormed over to the counter, grabbed the half-empty bag of flour and heaved it with all of her might.
He ducked. The bag exploded in a white haze against the wall, covering Dillon’s head and shoulders. “Damn it, Nina—”
She marched over to the baking racks and started unloading day-old donuts at him. He didn’t even move as they hit him on his chest, just stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Who knew? Maybe she had. It was about time. “I’ve already given up so much, lost so much all these years by worrying about meeting other people’s expectations.” She squeezed a donut so hard butter cream filling oozed out. “And if I don’t fight for what I want, I’ll continue to lose more of myself and my kids’ respect.”
And worse, much worse, she’d lose Dillon.
With both arms she swept the counter clear. Dishes, mixing bowls, utensils, sugar and flour crashed to the ground.
“Nina,” Dillon said firmly, “that’s enough.”
But it wasn’t. The way she felt, it would never be enough.
She shoved the rolling baking rack toward him. It teetered and fell over with a loud crash, rolls and muffins scattering across the floor. “Do you know how long I let Trey tell me ‘enough’?” She picked up a rolling pin.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
She couldn’t say the thought didn’t cross her mind but she still had enough self-control that she didn’t whip it at his head. But she did fling it to the side. It hit an upper cabinet, denting the wood before falling into the sink. “I didn’t walk away from my marriage even though I knew Trey was cheating on me.” She threw a loaf of raisin bread at Dillon’s stubborn, beautiful head.
“Hey.” He batted it away. “Damn it.”
“I stayed married to someone who made me feel so bad about myself that I started to believe I was as worthless as he claimed.” She flipped a chair over. “When Trey left, you know what I felt? Relieved. I didn’t mind being thought of as Poor Nina because I was free. But I should’ve minded, I should’ve set people straight.”
She should’ve been the one to walk away.
All this time she thought no one had faith in her because they felt sorry for her—for Trey leaving. For all the mistakes she’d made. But how could they believe in her when she didn’t believe in herself?
Bone weary and as spent as if she’d just run a marathon, she let her hand drop to her side. “I’m through doing what’s expected,” she said quietly, her words seeming even softer after the noise of her trashing her kitchen. “I love you.”
He stepped forward, the expression on his face conflicted. “Nina—”
She held up her hand to stop him. “But even though I love you and want to have a future with you, even though I want you to love me back,” she said, her voice breaking, “I’m strong enough to let you go if that’s what you want.”
For a second, she thought he’d take her into his arms. But then he bent, picked up his toolbox and walked out the door.
Leaving her to slide down the wall, lay her head on her knees and cry alone in the mess she’d made.
THE WEEKEND PASSED in a blur for Nina. After Dillon walked out, she’d sat in the kitchen until her tears and anger were spent. Leaving only the pain. Leaving her to wonder what she could’ve done differently. What she should’ve said to convince him to stay. What she should do next.
That’s when she knew she’d do what she always did next. She’d get up, brush herself off and take care of her kids and her business.
And worry about getting through each day one at a time.
Facing the destruction she’d caused in her kitchen hadn’t been easy but cleaning it had been therapeutic. Even if it had taken her the rest of the night and a good chunk of the morning.
She hadn’t seen Dillon again but she’d heard him go up and down the stairs as he hauled his possessions out of the apartment. When Lacy showed up for work Friday morning, she seemed to know better than to ask Nina why she looked like hell. Instead, she ushered Nina out the door, promising she’d take care of everything as long as Nina went home and got some rest.
When Nina returned a few hours later—she hadn’t slept but she had showered and felt marginally human—Dillon’s tools and truck were gone. Lacy had silently handed Nina the keys to both the apartment and the bakery that Dillon had left. That was it. No note. No goodbye.
She’d willed back tears. Stuck the keys into her pocket and knew she’d get through.
And the first step in getting through was to contact her attorney about revisiting her custody agreement with Trey. After Trey had threatened to fight for full custody—and the ugly way he’d acted at the pageant—Nina hadn’t wanted to let her kids near him, even for his weekend visit. Except her attorney was worried that keeping the kids from Trey would backfire and hurt her chances of winning any future custody battles.
Not to mention Trey would probably have the police legally enforce his visitation rights.
So she’d had Trey pick the kids up from Blaire’s house Friday afternoon. And she hadn’t stopped worrying about them since.
The only bright spot of the weekend was when Kyle showed up and offered to finish the work Dillon started. He’d seemed so sincere—and almost as hurt as Nina was by Dillon leaving them—that she couldn’t say no. Thank God she hadn’t. The changes in him were subtle but noticeable.
Truth be told, he was capable of being a nice kid. Who knew?
Sunday afternoon, she flipped the Closed sign on the front door. “Wow, it looks wonderful,” she said. “You did a great job.”
Kyle, tapping a lid onto a can of half-used paint, shrugged and ducked his head, but she didn’t miss his small smile.
She leaned back against the table next to him. “So, I guess that’s it, huh? You’re all finished?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
She checked her watch and tried not to worry that Trey was ten minutes late bringing the kids home. She couldn’t get in to meet with her attorney until after Christmas but once she did, Nina was going to do whatever it took to keep her kids safe.
“I was wondering,” she said, as an idea popped into her head. She started to question herself, but she needed to trust her instincts. If she made a mistake, she’d deal with it later. “What do you think about working here part-time?”
He looked up at her from underneath his shaggy bangs. “You mean, work for you?”
“That’s the plan. How about…three days a week to start, including one weekend day. We’ll see how it goes and if you want more hours than that.”
“I don’t have to bake anything, do I?”
“Do you know how to bake?”
/> “Hell…uh…I mean, heck no.”
She laughed. “You’ll be working up front and maybe waiting tables if need be. The tips are pretty good.”
“Sure. That’d be cool.”
“Great.” See? Things would be okay. Life goes on, and all that. The door opened and, to her immense relief, Marcus ran inside. “Hey. How was your weekend—”
“Fine,” he mumbled as he rushed past her.
She stopped him before he made it to the kitchen. “What’s the matter?” He shook his head and she knelt down, placed a finger under his chin and turned his face toward her.
Everything inside of her froze to see the tear tracks on his face. And the bright red spot on his left cheek.
“What happened?” She forced the words out.
“Nothing,” he said trying to pull out of her hold.
Hayley came in and threw herself at Nina, almost knocking her off balance.
“Mommy,” her little girl cried, “I don’t want to go to Daddy’s house anymore. He hit Marcus!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NINA SAW RED. She was surprised steam didn’t billow from her ears. She patted Hayley on the back. “Okay, okay. Calm down so we can all talk about this.” She turned to Marcus. “Is that true? Did your father hit you?”
He lowered his eyes and nodded. She pulled him to her and held him tight.
“Daddy told Rachel he didn’t think you deserved to keep us,” Hayley said, laying her head against Nina’s shoulder. “He called you a bad word and Marcus told him to stop it and Daddy hit him.”
After what Trey had said at the Christmas Pageant, she can only imagine what he’d called her. And her poor baby had tried to stand up for her, tried to do the right thing and gotten hurt.
Oh, God. She’d followed the rules, done the right thing legally and her son had gotten hurt. She was done playing by anyone’s rules but her own. Starting right now.
“Where’s your dad?” she asked Hayley.
Hayley sniffled. “He’s talking to some old lady out on the sidewalk.”
“Okay.” She nodded and turned to Marcus. “I’m so sorry this happened.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“It is,” she said firmly. “But I’m going to take care of it. I’m not going to let your father hurt you ever again. I’m proud of you.” She gently cupped his cheek and attempted a smile. “Kyle,” she said knowing he’d clearly heard their conversation, “could you please take Marcus and Hayley into the kitchen for a snack?”
“Sure.” He picked Hayley up and touched Marcus on the shoulder. “Come on, guys.”
They pushed through the kitchen door just as Trey came inside. At least he looked like hell. She’d avoided him since the night of the pageant but now she wished she’d faced him earlier. He had a bandage on his swollen nose and both eyes were black.
She couldn’t find it in herself to feel even the tiniest bit sorry for him. As a matter of fact, she wished Dillon had hit him even harder.
“Where are the kids?” Trey asked.
“What did you do to Marcus?”
“Obviously they get their overly dramatic tendencies from your side of the family.” He made a show of looking around. “I see Ward’s truck is gone. Dare I hope you’ve come to your senses and he’s left for good?”
“Dillon is none of your concern,” she said fiercely, “and neither am I. Now what did you do to my son? Did you hit him?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t overreact,” he said as if he was talking to a deranged person. “Marcus mouthed off to me so I gave him a little love tap.”
“You left a handprint! That’s abuse.”
“I said it was nothing. Just a disagreement between a father and his son. And none of your concern.”
“What happens to my children is always my concern.”
He waved his hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky gnat. “Don’t blow this out of proportion like you did at the pageant. You and I both know Ward’s vicious attack on me was unprovoked.” He lightly pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and winced. “You should’ve known better than to bring him to the school. Honestly, Nina.” He sighed. “I blame myself for how low you sunk in order to get attention from not only the opposite sex, but from your family—and, I suspect, me, as well.”
She shook her head, not sure she heard him correctly. “What are you talking about?”
He looked at her with such pity, she almost bared her teeth and growled at him. “It’s obvious you were, in some sense, trying to punish me for leaving you. And trying to make me jealous of your relationship with him.”
She rubbed at her temple. “You are unbelievable.”
“And you are in serious denial.” He patted her arm and she twisted out of his reach. “You’re obviously in no mood to see reason. We’ll discuss this when I pick the kids up Thursday night.”
He walked away and opened the door.
“No,” she said, proud of how strong her voice sounded. How steady.
He turned back. “Excuse me?”
“No, you can’t manipulate me and the situation to your own benefit. No, I’m not going to listen to your reason—not ever again.” She laid her hand over her queasy stomach. “And no, you won’t be picking the kids up Thursday.”
There was nothing overtly threatening in the way Trey walked back toward her but that didn’t stop her heart from racing. Her palms from sweating.
“Of course I’ll pick them up on Thursday,” he said as if speaking to a recalcitrant child. “Our custody agreement clearly states that I get them every Thursday night.”
“I’m going to petition the court first thing Monday morning to have your custodial rights terminated until you get the help you need to control your temper.” Though it was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, she stood her ground. Even when he moved closer. “I won’t let you have the kids until I know for certain they’ll be safe with you.”
His mouth flattened. “And you really think they’ll grant it?” He shook his head. “Nina, everyone in town knows you’ve changed. If you go to court, the entire town will know the only reason you’re doing this is to get back at me. They’ll see it for what it is, a cry for help. Just as they’ll see you for who you are. A woman out for revenge.”
“Some people might believe you,” she admitted. “You are, after all, a respected member of town. And those same people will wonder about my true motives. I’m sure there’ll be talk. Whispers and rumors.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you see things my way.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” she said coldly. “There will be whispers and rumors. And I couldn’t care less.”
Two bright spots of anger appeared in his cheeks. Something flashed in his eyes, something that warned her he’d lost his battle with his temper but before she could move, he slapped her, hard, across the face.
“You’ll do no such thing,” he told her as he grabbed her upper arms in a grip so tight, she knew from experience she’d have bruises tomorrow morning. “You think you can embarrass me publicly?”
“Get the hell away from her!”
Kyle came flying out of the kitchen and tried to pull Trey away from her. Trey went right for Kyle’s weak spot—his bandaged wrist—seized the teen’s hand and twisted. Kyle cried out and Nina, her cheek stinging, her eyes watering, picked up the first thing she saw—a sheet of cookies off the top of the display case.
Cookies flew in every direction, scattered on the floor as she hit Trey on the shoulder as hard as she could. He roared, probably more from anger than pain but she didn’t care. He let go of Kyle, who immediately placed himself between Nina and her ex.
She stepped forward so she and Kyle were side by side and held the tray like a baseball player ready to hit a home run. “Get out of here,” she told him, so furious her voice shook, “or I swear to God, I’ll knock you upside the head. You’re nothing but a bully and I refuse to be bullied anymore.”
Trey ru
bbed the shoulder she’d hit. “You’ll regret this,” he said, his eyes bright. “I’ll take you to court and sue for full custody of the kids.”
“Oh, please do. I’d love nothing better than to tell everyone in town exactly what type of man you really are.”
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he promised before slamming the door shut behind him.
Her arms trembled as she lowered the pan. She felt light-headed with relief—and triumph. She did it. She’d stood up to Trey and had actually gotten him to back off.
It’d been the scariest thing she’d ever done. But she did it anyway.
“Mommy? Are you okay?” Hayley asked from the doorway. She and Marcus wore identical wide-eyed expressions.
“I’m fine. How about you?” she asked Kyle.
“I’m good.” But he held his wrist in his free hand and his face was strained. He lowered his voice. “Would you have really hit him over the head with that?”
Nina followed his gaze to the pan now leaning against her leg. She glanced at her kids huddled together and then back at Kyle. “Oh, yeah,” she said with a smile. “I would’ve kicked his ass.”
DILLON STARED through his truck’s windshield at Kelsey and Jack’s house. White icicle lights hung from the porch, while colored lights decorated the small bushes and a leafless tree in front of the picture window. Snow fell gently, giving the yard a pristine cover of white.
Like a Norman Rockwell Christmas Eve.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He could only imagine how excited Emma and Hayley and Marcus were tonight about Santa’s impending visit.
He wished he could see them, see the excitement in their eyes. Hear their giggles. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind seeing Kyle’s perpetual smirk or hearing the kid’s never-ending sarcasm.
Mostly, he wanted to see Nina.
The door to the house opened and Kelsey came outside and ran across the yard. She wore a denim mini-skirt, a snug, long-sleeved top and a pair of snow boots.
Must be her version of holidaywear.
She opened the passenger door and climbed in. “You coming inside?” she asked as she shut the door and shivered. “You’ve been sitting out here for fifteen minutes.”