They had, but others hadn’t. And even though they’d escaped with their lives, they’d lost everything else. After Katrina, their mom had withered. Katrina had been the final blow in a life full of them. She had left Thad and Clayton with too much desperation and time to get into trouble.
“I’m glad you made it.” Sadie’s voice reminded Thad of hot chocolate, warm and comforting. He bet she was a great teacher. “I left for LSU before New Orleans really recovered.”
They discussed her doctorate in psychology and job as associate professor at Cottonbloom College and then moved on to the most venerable of subjects—college sports.
“Thaddeus betrayed his Louisiana roots and went to Ole Miss for criminal justice, did he tell you?” Clayton’s dry irony covered a vague resentment he didn’t seem entitled to. “Turned down a baseball scholarship at LSU. A full ride.”
“Wow. That’s a big deal. Didn’t you want to play?” Sadie’s otherworldly eyes seemed to see straight through his defenses.
“Yes, tell us why you turned LSU down,” Clayton mimicked.
His baseball career was an old sticking point. Thad had loved baseball. He was quick for his size, but speed didn’t matter when he could hit home run after home run. Every time he’d stepped onto the field, he’d found a peace his mother had never been able to provide at home.
But his love of baseball was tied up in the mess he’d made of Clayton’s life, and giving it up—along with sex—had seemed part of his penance. “Wanted to concentrate on school. Grades. I also needed to work to help Mama. Couldn’t do that playing ball.”
Clayton propped his ankle up on his knee, his stance seemingly relaxed, but tension and an impression of being on guard never disappeared. “You know how crooked those boosters are. Mama would have been taken care of if you’d performed.”
Sadie followed their conversation like a college professor researching a paper on sibling dynamics. Lord knows, he and Clayton could provide enough material for an entire textbook. The last thing he wanted was to be psychoanalyzed by a third party when he couldn’t even untangle the bonds that both bound and repelled them.
“I should run Sadie back to her house. Make sure things are still buttoned up tight. I’ll be back shortly.” He stared at his brother, tension bunching his shoulders.
“I’ll be here,” Clayton said.
Thad nodded, relieved. Sadie grabbed her backpack by the strap and followed him to his truck. Once they were inside and headed down the narrow track to the main road, Thad glanced in her direction, and instead of avoiding potential awkwardness by finding the passing scenery interesting, she was staring right at him. The question on her face as clear as if she’d spoken.
He stopped the truck. Ahead and behind them were trees, lending a sense of solitude. She’d trusted him last night with her troubles, and after what she may or may not have heard or inferred, he felt like he owed her something in return.
“Clayton just got out of jail.”
“I gathered as much.”
“He’s not a violent criminal. He was put away for dealing drugs and stealing a car.”
Her silence offered more comfort than judgment. Heat rose in his body, and he rolled the window down and took a breath of loamy, river-scented air.
Words climbed out of his heart and into his throat. What was he doing? This woman was a stranger. Yet like an infected wound that required cauterization by truth, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“He didn’t steal the car though. I did. Was going to make some money from this chop shop, but Clayton got wind of what I was doing and found me. We were fighting, and then all of a sudden the cops were there. Instead of ratting me out, he covered for me. Took the fall.”
He lay his forehead against the steering wheel, the cab of the truck taking on shades of a priest’s confessional.
“Keep your goddamn mouth shut. Let me handle it.” Clayton’s harsh whisper from that night shushed through the trees on the wind. Thad hadn’t expected to be released an hour later after Clayton confessed to everything. Thad had been sick with relief at first, but before the trial, he had tried to talk Clayton into letting him come forward, the guilt overpowering.
“I wanted to help. I was willing to take the punishment, but Clayton got so mad. Told me they’d found drugs on a search of his place, so the car theft was minor. Told me to stay out of trouble and make something of myself.”
“Don’t turn into a waste of breath like me.” Clayton’s words wound themselves around his heart and squeezed.
There was horror at what he’d confessed but also freedom.
“Your brother is why you went into law enforcement, isn’t it? Something good did come out of a terrible situation.” The absolution in her voice washed away a good portion of his guilt and left him on the brink of abject embarrassment. Before he could topple, she stroked a hand over his back.
He tensed, but the soothing circles turned his spine to rubber, and he bowed over the steering wheel like a cat arching. It had been years since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of another’s touch.
He hadn’t consciously set out to stay celibate, but when temptation stalked close, he’d thought of his brother, lonely and alone, and the goal of selfish pleasure had been tainted. But Clayton was out, and Thad’s body sensed the leash being loosened even as his shame festered.
“I’ll bet you regret calling me last night for help, don’t you?” He forced himself to face her. Her green eyes reminded him of a kaleidoscope held up to the sun, complicated, fascinating. She’d grown up privileged and innocent, yet that innocence had been snatched from her like Katrina had shattered his.
“Not at all. I slept great… minus waking up to a strange man standing over me. That took about three years off my life.” Her smile flashed and settled the knot in his chest.
How much would he give to keep her hand on him? So much it terrified him, and he sat up to break the contact. Control and discipline were his fundamentals. Sadie made him want to throw both aside and be reckless.
“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to show up like that.” He got them moving again. Even though he’d driven down this lane hundreds of time, his world had skewed slightly, and the woods looked different. The unfurling bright green leaves of spring more noticeable than they’d been the day before.
“Is he going to settle down in Cottonbloom?”
“I don’t know.” Thad hadn’t thought beyond the relief of having his brother out of jail, but considering his line of work and the confidence the mayor had settled on him by tapping him for the promotion to police chief, having an ex-convict brother might prove problematic. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t tell people about Clayton before I have a chance to.”
“Of course not. Anyway, who would I tell?”
“Are you not finding Cottonbloom very friendly?”
“Everyone has been super nice, but the professors in my department are older, with families. And I’m not much for going to church anymore. Plus, I can’t… or at least until last night, I haven’t been able to leave the house at dark. As someone with a doctorate in psychology, I should be able to reason myself past the irrational fear. But there it is. I’m officially a weirdo.”
“I’m no psychologist, but as someone who has seen my fair share of trauma, everything you’re feeling is normal and expected, and it will get easier.”
Her eyes gleamed, and he worried she might start crying, but a smile broke through like sunshine. Relieved, he got them moving toward town.
She reached over and put her hand over his where it lay on the console between them. He kept his attention on the road, his heart rate and breathing ramping up. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant though. It was more like the exhilaration of a roller coaster.
Instead of pulling away from her touch, he flipped his hand so their palms touched. Her hand was so small her fingertips brushed his second knuckle. He curled his fingers slightly and, as if performing a dance, hers moved in synchronicity, knitting be
tween his.
He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, the skin unbearably tender compared to his. Her fingers coasted up and down his, and he could feel the callus on her middle finger where a pencil would sit. She was left-handed. Satisfaction of learning yet another fact, no matter how small, during this purely tactile exercise was gratifying. How much could he learn if he had access to more than her hand?
He fought the desperate urge to bring her hand to his lips to explore further, learn more. Her street came into sight. Would she protest if he kept driving them around Cottonbloom all day so he could keep hold of her hand? The logical side of him scoffed at the pathetic thought, and he let go to turn down her street and park at her curb.
She grabbed his sleeve and softly said, “Thad.”
He understood her need. “I’ll come in with you.”
She nodded, and he stayed close while she fit her key into the front door lock. He stepped around her and listened, but it was a house at slumber. He checked the back door and found it undisturbed.
“It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” she said over his shoulder. The shampoo he’d stashed in the guest room was the same he used on his own hair, but it smelled different on her. He turned and looked down at her. Her face was already tipped up to his, a smile born of relief lighting her eyes.
Her natural inclination was to trust and seek happiness, or maybe she was one of those people that drew happiness to her like the sun pulled at the planets. Either way, her fears didn’t stand a chance of swallowing her like his regrets had taken hold of him, and he was glad of it.
“I’m going to get this guy. Keep you safe.” Warnings fired. He was letting this case get too personal. A mistake.
“I know. That’s why I called you last night.”
They stood close. Her body was still, but her gaze was anything but, tracing over his face and across his shoulders with curiosity. His body responded with a roar of hunger he hadn’t experienced in years. His fingers twitched. He wanted to trace the streaks of red through the curls of her hair.
He should go before he piled onto his regrets with even more. He looked away and broke the tether holding them. She stepped back and led the way to her front door. He still lingered, not wanting to face his brother or his past. “What are your plans today? No classes on Saturday, I assume.”
“No classes although I have a test to prepare.” She opened the door and fiddled with the latch, not meeting his eyes. “I thought I might do some shopping on River Street. I guess you and your brother have some serious catching up to do.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” He backed out the door. “You still got my number?”
She nodded.
“Don’t be shy about using it.”
“You have an entire town to keep safe. I don’t want to be a PITA.”
Confused, he paused on the top step of her porch. “You’re nothing like a piece of bread.”
The laughter that burst out of her sent his heart rate into the stratosphere again. “Stands for ‘pain in the ass.’ Gotta get with times, Chief.”
With her laughter trailing, she closed the door and turned the locks. He didn’t realize he was smiling until he was back in his truck and felt the muscles of his cheeks getting sore. Now that he was alone, he wondered if Sadie Wren had hypnotized him.
Chapter Four
Sadie wandered the stores along the Mississippi side of Cottonbloom. The downtown was a thriving mecca of cute shops and eateries with lots of foot traffic. She spent a good forty-five minutes in the Quilting Bee. There were quilts but also diverse displays by local artisans—pottery, paintings, candles.
After grabbing a pine-scented candle that reminded her of Thad and picking out a watercolor of the river running through downtown Cottonbloom she planned to hang in her kitchen, she wandered over to the quilts hanging along the walls. While several caught her eye, none of them had the vibrant earth tones of Thad’s.
“Are you interested in a quilt?”
A lady’s voice startled her around. She was older, well into her sixties if Sadie had to guess, but she carried herself with an air of vitality.
“Maybe. I saw a friend’s quilt and thought it was so pretty, but it wasn’t pastels.”
“These are classic bridal or hope-chest quilts.” The woman ran a brown-spotted, wrinkled hand over the nearest one. “The interlocking rings symbolize wedding rings. They’re our best sellers, but not my favorite either. What kinds of colors do you prefer?”
“The one I liked had all different shades of blue and green and orange checked patches set in pinwheels.”
“That sounds like the quilt we made for Thaddeus Preston after the tornado.” The woman’s eyes flared as if she could already make a good guess at Sadie’s secret infatuation with Thad. Sadie took a step back and bumped into an empty round table.
“I’m ready to check out I think.” She scooted to the side and headed toward the register.
“My name is Effie, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you in town, but then again, I live over the river in Louisiana.”
“I’m new. I started teaching up at the college this spring.”
Effie kept up steady chatter about what Sadie should see and do while she was downtown, and it didn’t take long for the jab of awkwardness over Thad’s quilt to fade. The genuine warmth of Effie’s welcome convinced her more than ever that Cottonbloom could be her home. She stowed her purchases in her car and continued to explore the Mississippi side of the river, wrapping up the afternoon with a strawberry ice-cream cone.
She sat in a pretty gazebo that overlooked the river, licking her ice cream and examining her left hand, front and back. It felt like it should be marked somehow by Thad’s touch in the truck that morning. His hand had been big and callused, yet his touch had been gentle, as if her stubby fingers were special somehow.
All day her mind had drifted to Thad. How were he and Clayton getting on? The dynamic between the brothers was hard to nail down. Love was there in spades but also resentment and guilt and frustration.
And Thad, so tall and strong and intimidating, had been thrown off his game. He’d been vulnerable, and it didn’t take a psychology degree to conclude the state was uncomfortable for him. The way her thoughts circled around him and the way she longed to see him fell squarely within the textbook definition of an infatuation. Recognizing the fact didn’t relieve her of the feelings.
She could invite him over for dinner as thanks for letting her crash at his place for the night. And his brother too, of course. Clayton was another mystery. Beneath the charm and good humor lurked something darker, probably instilled in jail, or maybe even before in the turmoil she’d sensed when she’d brought up Katrina.
In the end, though, her courage remained in hibernation from her ordeal the year before, and she was home well before dark with her nine iron within arm’s reach.
Her cell phone rang as she was settling on the couch to watch TV. It was Thad. She fumbled to hit the green button and get the phone to her ear, her body rioting.
“Hi. Hello. I’ve been thinking about you.” She clamped her lips together and cringed. Where was her social filter for appropriateness? The thing that her months of cotillion training as a teenager should have instilled?
“I hope not because you’ve had another incident?”
“No, everything’s fine on that front. I went downtown and looked at quilts, but none were as nice as yours.” She mouthed a prayer. Now she was complimenting his quilt like it was a euphemism for something else. Well, if she were honest, he had a nice… everything. “How are things with your brother?”
His sigh was more truthful than his words. “Okay, I guess. I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for a drink or something.”
She stared out her window. Last night, the darkness hadn’t been a void where nothing but fear resided. It had been noisy and alive. Could she do it? She honestly wasn’t sure, but things were obviously not okay with him, and the need to help him trumped her
fear.
“Do you mind picking me up?” Her voice trembled despite her best efforts.
“Geez, I wasn’t even thinking. Forget I—”
“No, this is good. I need to get over this irrational fear. Anyway, you make me feel safe.”
She tightened her hand around the phone, the silence on the other end stretching to the point of unbearable. Finally he whispered, “I’ll be there in twenty.”
“I’ll be ready.” They disconnected, and she sprinted upstairs to change out of her comfy yoga pants into jeans and a red gingham blouse. She checked herself in the mirror and muttered, “I look like a farmer’s wife.”
She fumbled the blouse off and settled on a scooped-neck silky black T-shirt that she rarely wore because it was too sexy for work. This wasn’t work. Maybe it was a glorified therapy session for both of them, but whatever. She wanted to look good.
The doorbell chimed while she was finger combing her curls into something resembling order. After a swipe of mascara, she skipped down the steps and threw the door open. Thad was wearing jeans too, but even though he’d opted for a red-and-blue checked button-down, he looked nothing like a farmer. The sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms and, unlike Clayton, no tattoos in sight.
He smiled, but it was tight. Stressed. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Of course.” She confined her neurosis to a couple of glances up and down the street and a deep breath. Nothing was going to happen with Thad at her side. The tension ratcheted tighter across her shoulders anyway.
He ran his hands down the front of his jeans and led the way to the truck. Instead of thinking about the darkness pressing in, she concentrated on his really nice butt, and before she realized it, he was handing her up into the seat.
Through the exhilaration of her accomplishment, she sensed his turmoil. He was hurting from the inside out. Impulsively she grabbed his biceps and stopped him when he would have closed her inside.
Light Up the Night: A Cottonbloom Novel Page 4