by Becky Flade
“Work one day in your nursery, and no one would question why you look better now after giving birth to four kids then you did in high school.”
“Flattery will not get you out of manual labor.”
She turned her head, her eyes tracking a familiar form.
“Worth a shot.” She kept looking, wishing the woman would move back into view. She wanted to see her face; it looked like Sylvie from a distance.
“Give me a minute?” She stepped away without waiting for a response. She weaved in and out of the aisles until she had caught up with the woman she’d glimpsed through the palms of an oversized fern. She’d been right. She put a hand on her friend’s elbow.
“Sylvie, hey sweetheart. I was so sorry to hear about the divorce. How are you?”
Sylvia Shore spun around and glared at her with enough venom that Kylee stepped back.
“Yeah, I’m sure my divorce just tore you apart. What are you doing here—trolling for new homes to wreck?”
“Hey!” Jordan yelled.
I should’ve guessed Jordan would follow me. Her sister was nosey. And now I have an audience for this confrontation I didn’t want. “I wouldn’t sleep with a married man, and not with my friend’s husband. And we are friends. At least I thought we were.”
“What I know is you were a dirty cop who got knocked up by a drug dealer. Adultery wouldn’t be much of a stretch.” Sylvie sat her basket on the display closest to her. “I’ll start purchasing my garden supplies elsewhere.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“If you turn away business every time someone doesn’t like a member of the family, you and Greg will lose this place to the bank.” She started for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to try to catch her before she pulls out of the lot. Not a damn thing that came out of her mouth is true, and I’m setting the record straight.” She sprinted out shouting, “Sylvie, wait!”
I shouldn’t have yelled. Sylvie ran. This is great. She thinks I slept with her husband and destroyed her marriage, and now I’m chasing her through a parking lot. Fantastic.
She caught Sylvie by the arm at the rear of the woman’s station wagon. After a short, ridiculous struggle, Sylvie gave up and leaned against the side of the car with her arms crossed over her middle.
“Good. Now you’re going to wait, and you’re going to listen. I wouldn’t commit adultery. But more than that, I would never be with Matt. I don’t think of him that way and I know he doesn’t see me in that light either. He’s never even made a pass.”
“Really?” Sylvie asked, her mouth twisted into a sneer.
She’d been an attractive woman but the last few years hadn’t been kind. Kylee didn’t know if it had been the stress of a being a cop’s wife, or the stress of having her marriage fail, that had caused Sylvie to look tired and unkind.
“If Matt had an affair, it wasn’t with me. As for the rest? I was never dirty. And Jayson was never a drug dealer. He was an undercover federal agent investigating one of the largest narcotic rings in the area. You can think or say what you want about me, but if I hear one filthy lie about my son, his father, or any other member of my family, I’ll see you in court for slander. Take care of yourself.”
With tears pricking at her eyes and stinging the back of her throat, she turned away with as much dignity as she could in old sneaks and dirt-streaked overalls. If she was in one of the suits she reserved for court appearances, she’d have felt powerful and graceful, but covered in soil and sweat made a dramatic exit next to impossible. Who are you kidding? You chased her through the parking lot. She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
A thin, emaciated woman stepped out from between two cars and flicked a cigarette to the asphalt. The woman oozed hostility and frustrated, barely restrained, violence. Her dirty hair was tangled. Her clothes ragged and threadbare; she showed enough skin to give the impression she may be a prostitute and the marks on her arms indicated drug addiction. She racked her memory trying to place the woman from her case files.
“Please make my year and tell me you work in this dump with my worthless mother.”
“Amy? What are you doing here?”
“No hi how ya doin? Long time no see? I’m appalled at your lack of manners. Whatever would your mother say?” Amelia snickered.
She glanced around the parking lot. I hope no one else sees her.
“How do you know where I work?” Emily Donovan asked.
She swallowed a groan. My luck today sucks. She peeked over her shoulder. And saw irritation, not fear, reflected in the older woman’s expression.
“I followed you. It’s getting cold. I need a place to sleep.”
The demanding young woman who’d intimidated her mother with alcohol, abuse, and violence was gone. She’d lost her power. She’d whine and wheedle. And get nowhere.
“And you thought the threat of being embarrassed at my job would get me to say yes?”
Amelia smiled; the gesture hard and cold, then pulled a cigarette out of her pack and lit it, inhaling deeply.
“If you can afford cigarettes and God knows what else, you can find money to put a roof over your head. I’ll help you get into a shelter or a rehab. But that’s it.”
“I can help you get into a great inpatient program.”
“Fucking goodie two shoes butting her nose in where it doesn’t belong, as usual.” Amelia pointed at her mother with the cigarette like it was an eleventh finger. “And you’re even worse than the Parkers. You’ve forgotten who you are. Been hanging out with them so long, you think you’re one of them now. I don’t need rehab. I need a place to live.”
“The track marks on your arms say otherwise. As does the outfit you’re wearing. When did you start selling yourself for a fix?” She hoped to shock Amelia into admitting she had a problem.
“Mom! GiGi! Whatcha doing?”
All three women turned toward the boy at the Garden’s fence.
“We’re giving this lady directions. She got lost. Go tell Aunt Jordan I’ll be right back, and that I found GiGi, okay?” She had been in control. Now her heart raced in her chest, and her pulse roared in her ears.
“Okay.”
He ran into the side entrance connecting the nursery to the Children’s Garden. She didn’t relax until he’d disappeared into the building. When she looked back at Amelia, she saw calculated malice.
“I’d ask about his daddy, but a blind man could tell you who fathered that little bastard.”
Amelia didn’t have time to block the blow. How could she, when she hadn’t realized she’d swung until the back of her hand cracked across Amelia’s face. Amelia fell into the car parked beside her. Once a strong, healthy woman, years of drug abuse had made her slight, and the single blow nearly felled her. She righted herself, rubbed her thumb through the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and smiled.
She looked happy as a child whom just been offered an ice cream sundae.
“Consider that a freebie. It’s the only one you’ll get.” Amelia’s glare locked onto Emily. “That’s how a mother protects her child.”
She wrapped her arm around the older woman when she gasped. Amelia’s smile grew. She turned and swaggered away. It’s not ending like that.
“Amelia?”
The younger woman turned, her cheek already beginning to bruise.
“Jayson’s back. I’ll let him know you came by to visit. And how thrilled you were to find out you have a nephew.”
The confidence in Amelia’s expression died, and fear replaced it. Satisfied, she led Emily away from the woman her daughter had become. Marcus, Greg’s landscaping partner, approached at a fast clip. Jordan stood in the Garden with the kids, cell phone to her ear. The casual observer wouldn’t suspect anything, but they were in a state of high alert.
“Marc, what’s up man?”
A be
ar of a man covered in tattoos, with hands the size of boulders, he looked menacing, but the gentle giant could most often be found murmuring to the plants in a hypnotic baritone or telling knock-knock jokes to the pre-school set.
“Not much. I had a couple of minutes, thought I’d take a stroll through the parking lot and look what I found? Two pretty, single ladies in need of a chaperone. Lucky me.” He wrapped a thick arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Are you okay, lovey?”
Holy shit, they’re a thing. When did that happen?
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I was harsh, hoping to stun her into accepting the help she needs, and it backfired. I have no excuse for hitting her. I’m afraid I may have made things worse.”
“That was your Amy?”
“She would’ve found a way to make it worse. It’s what she does. And you didn’t say a thing that wasn’t true. I’m late, bye.” Emily hurried off.
“You hit her?”
“Made her bleed; a car broke her fall.”
“Good.”
He slapped her hard on the rump, like a coach to his player, before following Emily. It surprised a laugh out of her.
“Kylee?”
Now what? She turned, still rubbing her sore butt cheek, at Jayson’s call. He walked to her with long strides that ate up asphalt. His expression fierce, a combination of anger and worry that made her insides soft and gooey, she’d thought him a warrior once. She’d been right. He took both sides of her face in his hands and looked into her.
“Are you okay?”
A thousand suns beat down on her at once as heat filled her. Every fiber of her being wanted to lean into him. If you do, he’ll take everything you are and make every promise you need to hear. Then he’ll throw it all away and break every vow.
She stepped back and lifted a flat of mums from the truck bed, holding them like a shield. “Yeah. I’m fine, I’m good. Thanks.”
“Jordan said you were ambushed in the parking lot by some woman. I thought it might have something to do with that case.” He hefted two bags of mulch and followed her.
“She called you?”
“No. I called to check on an order I’d placed. Timing.”
“It was your sister. Here to ambush your mom. Getting me too was just a happy bonus.”
He swore. “My mom?”
“Handled it. And since you’re here, you get to do manual labor. Don’t forget to lift with your knees, pretty boy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dusk had fallen, and with the sun’s descent, a chill had come into the air. His jeans and sweatshirt, the heat pumping from the grill—his latest obsession—kept him warm enough. He loved the scent of barbeque mixed with the damp cloying odor of fall. A cold beer, which he had, and a hot woman, whom he had set his sights on, made the evening perfect in his opinion.
“I can’t believe you tried to wheedle an extra discount out of Jordan.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t fall for my substantial Donovan charm.” The sound of her laughter warmed him. “Seriously, though, I was sure I could get her to knock the price down a little bit more. I worked hard today.”
“You didn’t work any harder than I or anyone else, and you got the same discount we all get. Stop whining and don’t burn my hot dog. I still think it’s too late in the year for grilling.”
“It’s never the wrong time of year for grilling, but you can wait inside if you’re cold.”
“I’ll go in a minute. I want to talk to you without an audience.”
His mom and her boyfriend—if that doesn’t beat all—were running herd over Brady and a few cousins. They heard the occasional shout or laughter through the sliding glass doors.
“What do you think of my mom and Marcus?” He turned the wieners. “She told me she was seeing someone. But it surprised me when I met him. I expected after my father, she’d have chosen a small, maybe effeminate man. Not a guy the size of a small mountain with hands like bricks.”
“Watch him with her and the kids, he’s a pussycat. Yet I think if anyone tried to hurt her, he’d be ruthless.”
“Agreed. I like him for her. It’s weird, but crazy sweet.” Satisfied nothing would burn; he laid down his tools and picked up his beer. He knew what she wanted to discuss. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was told you hit Amy, made her bleed, and she looked pleased?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll be back. And feel justified in doing whatever it is she does because you hit her and mom didn’t defend her. Since she knows I’m home, she’ll come at your back instead of head on. Vandalizing the nursery hurts you via Jordan and my mother, and good luck proving she did it. It will be something mean and petty and senseless like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” He knew the smile he offered didn’t fool her. “You didn’t make her abusive, an alcoholic, or a drug addict. You offered to help. Her response was to insult our child, and you defended him.”
“She was high, and I didn’t see it. Not right away. Not soon enough. It wasn’t until after I did hit her and she came back up smiling I realized the light in her eyes wasn’t all her. Without rehab…”
“I know where you’re heading.” He cut her off and grabbed his tongs. “You didn’t tell my mother that did you?”
“No. I thought she’d been upset enough for one afternoon.”
He wished he felt more than a fleeting sadness for his sister. He’d loved her once, stood in front of her when their dad was drunk and looking for someone small to hurt, comforted her when he failed, but he didn’t see his kid sister anymore. He had more concern for the pain she caused their mother.
“I hope that, like our father, she has the decency to only kill herself when the time comes.” He looked at her. “How awful a person does that make me?”
“You’re thinking about the lives and welfare of innocent strangers. I don’t think you’re awful at all.”
She wrapped her arms around him. He breathed in deep; inhaled the scent of her hair. Under the pungent scent of fall and charcoal, he could still make out the faint perfume of her shampoo mixed with the healthy odor of sweat from a day of hard work. He held on to the woman, the comfort she offered, and the moment for as long as he could.
She stepped away first. “I’m going in. Don’t burn my hot dog, and don’t forget the cheese.”
“I’m right behind you.”
She always steps away first. He plated grilled food as the door opened and closed behind him. Everything he wanted was inside the house he wanted to make a home. Everything that would make it a home was inside, and just out of his reach. He didn’t know how to claim her as well as Brady as his own without pushing them both away.
They had an incredible night together, but she seemed content to pretend hadn’t happened. I’m not. A moment six years ago and a one-night stand last month isn’t enough. I want it all.
“Food’s up!” The boys hooted and ran to the table. Kylee filled cups with iced tea and milk. His mom and Marcus dressed plates with piles of potato salad, macaroni salad, chips and fresh vegetables they’d picked up at the market. It looked like a barbeque. “This looks great.”
He absorbed the scene like a drowning man would water. The laughter around the table fed him and at the same time caused the ache in his heart to fester. I want forever. I want a family. It’s all he ever wanted since the afternoon he met the Parkers and saw what love should look like. He grabbed the empty tea pitcher and excused himself.
“Are you okay?” His mother rubbed his back as he filled the pitcher with cold water.
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on with you and Kylee?”
“Nothing.” He stepped out of her reach.
“It didn’t look like nothing outside the nursery, and the hug earlier looked like more than nothing, too. You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I love you. But mind your own business.” He stirred the iced tea.
“You are my business. Leave Kylee Parker alone. It will end badly, and it’ll be Brady who suffers for it.”
Damn near the same words Kylee used. Why does everyone think I’ll fail them?
“Why are you the only one who gets a second chance at happiness?”
“As your sister demonstrated this afternoon, the Donovan family tree is riddled with rot. We have to protect the ones we love from us.”
“Is that why you won’t marry me?” Marcus filled the doorway. “I’d hoped you were waiting for your boy to come home and now that he has, you’d reconsider. But you’re not going to, are you?”
“You don’t want to marry me. I’m not good for anyone.”
“You’re a fool. That’s what you are.” The big man put what he held down on the counter closest to him with a bang. “I love you, and you love me. We make each other happy, and that’s all that matters. All that should matter goddamn it!”
His mother winced when Marcus raised his voice.
“Don’t shrink away from me. I can get mad, and I can yell if I want. I would never hit you. Never. And you damn well know I wouldn’t. I am not James, and I refuse to allow you to treat me as though I am. I won’t live in that bastard’s shadow anymore.”
Marcus stormed through the house and out the door. Kylee caught his eye, gestured she was taking the kids home. He watched them put on hoodies and light jackets, returned the waves, hugged his son. Then he dropped the fake smile when the door closed behind them. Amy wasn’t even here, and she ruined my perfect afternoon. Dad’s been dead for years, he still looms over us. We deserve more.
“Mama, go after him.”
“It’s better this way.”
He didn’t know if his mother was right or wrong about their family tree, but she couldn’t be right about whether they deserved to be happy. Being a part-time father to his son and loving Kylee from afar just wasn’t enough. And like Marcus, he wasn’t willing to settle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
She hated these divisional meetings under the best of circumstances. As the last presenter, she had the dubious honor of giving everyone the okay to head back to work. Sleepy expressions reanimated as everyone mingled, happy to be released from bureaucratic torture. She shared their enthusiasm, but a few supervisors wanted to speak with her at length. When she stepped into the empty hall, she found her secretary waiting.