by Jane Porter
“The police arrested you?”
Trey nodded. “There was a trial, and two days before your first birthday I was sentenced to five years in jail.”
“What’s jail like?”
“Bad. You don’t want to ever go there.”
“I used to go there. That’s what Mom said.”
“Yeah, but it’s not a place for kids. It’s not a place you want to visit again.” Trey looked up at McKenna. “I didn’t know why you stopped coming to see me, but I do now. And you were right. It wasn’t the place for him.” He hesitated. “Or you.”
McKenna struggled to speak around the lump in her throat. “I should have explained it to you. I should have told you—” she broke off and bit down into her lip. “It’s been such a mess, hasn’t it?”
Trey grimaced. “Still is.”
“Yeah.” She glanced toward the phone, knowing she needed to make the call, knowing that the moment she made the call everything would change. Again.
“What are you worried about?” Trey asked, still able to read her so well.
Aware that TJ was listening intently, she picked her words with care. “I’m concerned Lawrence will have made some calls.”
“I’m sure he has,” Trey said bluntly. “If the situation was reversed, I would have.”
“I don’t think more…messy…is good for…anyone.” She glanced at TJ who was toying with his milk glass but his dark head was bent, and she knew he was taking it all in. “And I definitely don’t think it’s good for him.”
TJ glanced up, and looked from her to Trey before returning his attention to the glass.
“So what do you want to do?” Trey asked her, leaning against the burgundy vinyl, by all appearances comfortable and relaxed. But appearances were deceptive. This was Trey’s best defensive position. He was always relaxed before a fight.
She clasped her coffee mug between her hands, warming them. “Avoid unnecessary drama.”
“How do we do that?”
She shot TJ another quick glance. “We have dinner. You go. I call. We wait for Lawrence to come.”
“I just leave you here?”
TJ’s shoulders hunched up. Her own insides churned. It took her a moment to reply. “I don’t know who will show up. I don’t know how all the pieces will come together. I do think it’ll be less—tense—if it’s just me and TJ here.”
Trey’s jaw tightened. He looked away, out the front window onto the dark, mostly empty parking lot.
He didn’t like the plan. He was wrestling with himself. It wasn’t his nature to walk away from those he loved. If left to him, he’d rather stay and get handcuffed and hauled away, than to drive away, leaving them behind.
She nearly reached out to touch him but remembered herself at the last second. “I know you don’t want to,” she said quietly, fingers curling into her palm. “But it’s better. Better for him.”
Trey glanced at TJ, and TJ looked up at that moment, to meet Trey’s gaze.
Two Sheenans, cut from the very same fabric.
Her jaw ached and her eyes burned. She wished she could protect them both, but that was impossible. So she had to do the next best thing, protect their relationship. They loved each other. They needed each other. And they hadn’t had enough time with each other.
“I’ll go home and smooth things over,” she added. “We’ll let things settled down and then with a little luck and maybe some finessing, we can get you two together for Christmas, for a bit—”
“What is a bit? An hour? Two?” He shook his head. “That’s not Christmas.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“But is this the future? That I’ll have to learn to be grateful for an hour with my son on Christmas?”
“I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
They both watched TJ who was frowning into his milk, his forehead furrowed.
Trey shifted then abruptly said, “I’ll leave as soon as we’re done eating.”
She nodded, grateful. “Will you head to the Sheenan ranch?”
“I don’t know. Depends on how things work out.”
“I’m not pressing charges. Nobody will come after you—”
“That’s not the point. I just can’t be there without you and TJ. There’s nothing for me in Marietta if I don’t have you.”
“You’ve got your family—”
“You and TJ are my family. You’re the ones I love. Without you, there’s no point in sticking around—”
“Can I go wash my hands?” TJ asked, interrupting, showing them his palms. “They’re sticky.”
“I’ll take you,” McKenna said, sliding out from the bench.
“I can do it myself,” TJ answered, climbing from the booth. “I’m in Kindergarten now.”
She smiled a little. “Okay, but hurry. Dinner will be here soon.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Trey watched McKenna’s gaze follow TJ across the diner, her expression troubled.
“You’re a good mom,” Trey said quietly. “He’s so lucky to have you.”
She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “He’s missed you. So much.”
“He’s a sweet little boy. Smart, too.”
“You’re smart. Very smart. You just never liked following the rules.”
“True.”
“TJ doesn’t, either.”
“That could be problematic.”
“It already is.” She struggled to smile. “I worry about him. I worry that no one will understand him. I worry that people will judge him…much the way they’ve judged you.” Her voice broke and she looked away, swiftly wiping tears from beneath her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Mac.”
She looked at him, eyes wet. “Will it?” she asked hopefully.
Her make up had begun to fade and her high cheekbones jutted, her skin pale, gleaming like porcelain.
She looked younger without the blush and lipstick. More like his McKenna, the one he’d met his senior year at Marietta High when she was just a wide-eyed freshman, and the baby sister to Rory and Quinn.
It was impossible not to notice McKenna when school started in September. She was on the Frosh-Soph cheer squad and wore the short uniform red and white skirts every Friday, game day, and with her long bare legs and dark red hair spilling all the way down her back, she looked like a siren, and yet she was only fifteen years old.
He did his best to avoid her. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. He didn’t date freshman. He didn’t even like dating sophomores. But every now and then he’d find her looking at him, and she looked at him in a way no one else ever did.
She looked at him as if she could see him, see who he was, not who he pretended to be.
She looked at him as if he was good. Maybe even wonderful.
It made him feel funny, and his chest would get heavy and tight, and he became protective of her, not just because she was that Douglas girl, and not because she was impossibly pretty, but because she made him believe that maybe he was worth something. That maybe even though he was brash and reckless and in and out of trouble, that there was something still decent in him. Something real that had value.
And so he went out of his way to avoid her, not wanting to be tempted, because he was already far too tempted.
He stopped glancing her way when he knew she was around. He refused to meet her gaze. He wouldn’t get to know her.
He didn’t want to disappoint her, and it was inevitable he’d let her down. In his eighteen years, he’d disappointed everybody else.
But McKenna didn’t take the hint. She didn’t go away. She shadowed him as they took the same path to their respective fourth period classes. She stared at him as he hung out with the other seniors during lunch. She’d stand with her books on the sidewalk bordering the school parking lot waiting for her ride, and yet he sensed she wasn’t as much waiting to be picked up, as waiting to watch him walk by.
From all accounts she was
a nice girl, and a smart girl, taking honors courses and getting straight A’s.
Why was she so interested in him?
He’d thought initially it might be the good girl-bad boy opposites attract thing, but she wasn’t one of those sheltered good girls. She wasn’t naïve. A year or so earlier she’d had her world blown wide open with the horrific home invasion on the Douglas Ranch and she was still coming to terms with the unthinkable tragedy.
You’d think she’d want to stay away from trouble.
You’d think she’d feel safer with the nice guys that hit the Honor Roll.
She was the one that approached him between classes, the day before the two week Christmas break. She was selling Christmas ornaments—flat brass angels—as part of a choir fundraiser and she wondered if he wanted to buy one.
Or several.
She was happy to sell him a dozen.
It was for a good cause.
He’d watched her face while she talked, fascinated by the curve of her lips and the glint of laughter in her wide, cat eyes. She was pretty at a distance, but stunning up close, her face all elegant lines and planes—cheekbone, jaw, nose, lips. But it was her eyes, jade green with flecks of sapphire and gold, that made it impossible to look away.
So he didn’t.
He cornered her against the gym wall and stared into her eyes. “And what would I do with a dozen angels, little girl?” he asked, his voice low, husky. Dangerous.
He saw the flicker in her eyes and the tip of her tongue dart to wet her upper lip. He couldn’t tell if she was afraid or intrigued.
“Give them as gifts,” she answered coolly. “Your mother and girlfriend might like one.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Well, your mother.”
“So that’s one. What about the other eleven?”
“You could hang them in your truck, put them in your room, string a few over your bed.” Her long black lashes blinked, her expression innocent. “Might help keep you out of trouble.”
She knew his reputation, then.
And she wasn’t afraid.
“I see you watching me,” he said.
“How is that possible?” she asked, arching a brow. “You never look at me.”
He looked from the winged brow to the full curve of her lips. His body hardened. Damn, she was hot.
And she was also fifteen. Only fifteen.
“How much are the ornaments?” he asked gruffly.
“Fifteen each, or two for twenty-five.”
“And if I buy twelve?”
“I’ll buy the popcorn when you take me to the movies this weekend.” She smiled up at him, eyes dancing. “There are lots of really good movies out right now, and I’m free Friday and Saturday—”
“I’m not a big movie guy.”
“Then we can skip the movie, and just go park.”
She hadn’t really just said that, had she? For a split second he couldn’t breathe. “You’re fifteen,” he said, voice strangled.
“I’m not asking to have your baby.”
“Good. Because you’re not going to have my baby.” He stared at her, baffled, fascinated, outraged. And wildly turned on. “You’re out of control.”
“I’m not, actually. I don’t mess around. I’ve never even been kissed.” She took a quick breath, her smile unsteady, her confidence flagging. “But I’d like to kiss you.”
“McKenna Douglas,” he growled.
“So you do know who I am.”
“Of course I know who you are. I know which classes you have. I know what you eat for lunch. And I could probably tell you what you wore every day this week.”
Her lips parted, then closed. Pink stormed her cheeks. “Really?” she squeaked.
And it was that breathy little squeak that did him in.
She was gorgeous and sweet and smart and far too good for him. But he needed her. He needed someone good like McKenna to believe him in.
He bought the brass angels, a whole dozen, and he gave one to his mother for Christmas and hung the other eleven from his truck, his room, the mirror in the bathroom, and yes, on fishing wire over his bed.
Trey shifted in the diner booth and looked past McKenna’s shoulder towards the bathroom. “Maybe I should check on him.”
He rose without waiting for her to respond.
*
McKenna sagged as Trey left the booth, his long strides carrying him across the diner floor.
For the past two years she’d known that TJ was looking more and more like his father, but she’d forgotten the details. She’d forgotten the way Trey made a room feel small and other people boring. She’d forgotten Trey’s height and his sheer physicality. He was stronger than other men, more charismatic, too. But his nearness was wreaking havoc on her nerves. She felt tangled up in emotions she didn’t want, and couldn’t handle.
For two years she’d worked to forget him.
For two years she’d pretended he didn’t exist.
But he did exist. He was here. And already he was changing everything.
Trey wasn’t gone long. In fact, he seemed to walk into the men’s bathroom and out again. He opened the women’s door, stuck his head inside and then he was walking back to the table. “He’s not there,” Trey said bluntly.
She was on her feet. “What?”
He peeled money from his wallet and dropped the bills on the table. “We’ve got to go find him.”
*
Cars and trucks whizzed by on the highway, headlights blindingly bright. The sky was clear and the moon shone white, no clouds to diminish the brightness. McKenna was grateful for the moonlight as she and Trey traveled the perimeter of the parking lot, searching for TJ, calling his name.
She was shivering from the cold, her tulle and silk skirts tangling between her legs, but there was no way she’d go inside until TJ was found.
Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted his name, telling herself not to panic, telling herself he was here somewhere. He hadn’t been gone long. There was no way he could have gone far.
Trey reached for her hand, taking it in the dark. “We’ll find him, Mac.”
His fingers curled around hers, his hand warm and hard, the skin callused on his palm.
She felt Trey’s heat as his fingers laced with hers. His touch was meant to be comforting and yet she felt only electricity, as if he’d plugged her into something live and potent.
Just like it used to be.
But no, it wasn’t like it used to be. It’d never be that way again.
“I think I see him,” Trey said, releasing her hand and taking off at a run, darting across the highway to the other side of the road.
She watched him duck behind a cluster of garbage cans and come up with a little boy.
TJ.
Her heart lurched with relief. Thank God. Trey had found him.
Chapter Eight
‡
Inside the diner, Trey put TJ down and McKenna didn’t know if she should hug her son or shake him.
“What were you thinking?” she cried, crouching in front of TJ, holding him by the upper arms. “You could have been hurt out there, or killed! Why on earth would you do something like that?”
“I’m running away,” he said hotly, totally unrepentant.
“Why?”
“’Cause you’re making Dad go, and so I’m going, too—”
“I’m not making your dad go—”
“Yes, you are. I heard you. You said that he had to go so Lawrence can come get us and take us home, but I don’t want to go with Lawrence. I don’t like him. I’m not going to live with him.”
“Oh, TJ—”
“I’m going with my dad,” he interrupted fiercely. “You can go live with Lawrence.”
“What about me? Won’t you miss me?”
“No!”
“No? Why not?”
“Because you’re sending him to jail!”
“I’m not.”
“I heard yo
u.” His pressed his mouth shut in a mutinous line for a moment. “And if you send him to jail, I’m going with him, too.”
Her heart fell and she sank back on her heels, full white skirts puffing around her like an airy cloud of meringue. “Oh, honey.”
“I will,” he insisted, arms crossing defiantly over his chest. “Where he goes, I go.”
“They don’t send little kids to jail.” She folded her hands in her lap, studying his unhappy face. “Not even if they’re bad. And you’re not bad.” She glanced past TJ to Trey who stood with his arms folded, too. Like father, like son. “Neither of you are bad,” she said, holding Trey’s gaze. “Sheenans aren’t bad. A little hot-headed, yes, but bad….no.”
TJ was still struggling to process everything. “So he didn’t kidnap us?”
She leaned forward to kiss TJ’s chilled cheek. “No, babe.”
“And he’s not in trouble.”
“No.”
“So he doesn’t have to leave. He can stay with us and we can have Christmas together. Right?”
She struggled to smile. “How about we start with dinner first? And then we can talk about Christmas after.”
*
While Trey and TJ finished their dinner, McKenna used the diner phone to call Lawrence.
He didn’t pick up on his cell. She hung up without leaving a message and tried Paige, who didn’t answer, either. McKenna wondered where everyone was, and what they were doing. She prayed no one was out searching for her and TJ.
Prayed that everyone was calm and pragmatic. But if she wanted everyone calm, then she needed to let people know what was going on. How could she do that, though, when even she didn’t know what was happening?
“Hey Paige, it’s McKenna,” she said, getting Paige’s voice mail. “I’m with TJ and Trey and we’re fine. I’m calling from a restaurant phone, where we’re having dinner. Trey and TJ are eating and talking and doing some bonding. Please tell everyone that we’re all good and no one needs to worry. We’ll be back soon and I’ll explain everything then. Could you please let my brothers and Aunt Karen know I called? Love you. Bye,”
McKenna hung up, and taking a breath for courage, she dialed Lawrence’s number again.