She wanted to think he was wrong. But he wasn’t.
“Anything else you want to know?” he asked, and his words were so unexpectedly gentle that they sent her down a rabbit hole of memory, tumbling back to the first day of school, the day the twins came home, the day she asked him why the police were mad at him.
And it seemed that she had temporarily lost the ability to speak.
“I . . .” She shook her head. Swallowed. Twisted her fingers some more. “No. I think . . . yeah. I don’t like what you said, but . . . yeah. You might be on to something.”
“You sure you don’t need something to drink?”
Her laugh was too short, too shaky, to allow her the dignity she wanted. “No. Really. I, um, should probably go.”
“Your call.” He studied her the way she would a student she suspected of cheating on a test. “But in case you haven’t figured it out already, the door is always open. And I’m usually here.”
“Right. Well.” Not that she expected to ever return, but still.
She stood, tugged at her sweater, hunted for words that seemed to have flown from her brain. “Thanks for . . . well, for the insight.”
“Anytime.”
No, she thought as she went back into the night. Never again.
* * *
Spence walked into the conference room, scanned the chairs, and let out a breath. Bree wasn’t there yet. No need to act casual and businesslike with her in front of an audience. It was difficult at the best of times, and it would probably be damned near impossible today.
Especially today. All thanks to the plans that were neatly tucked into his briefcase.
Damn it, why had Fred picked today to come down with the flu?
Alice bustled in, already chattering to Mercy. Keenan wandered in a few minutes later. Bree trailed after him, travel mug in hand, her eyes on the ground. Trying to avoid looking at him?
Probably a good tactic. He was already feeling as if there was a giant neon sign over his head, flashing a message about hot sex, great memories, and plans for the evening.
That is, assuming she would still want to talk to him after he made his case.
He pulled out his phone and pretended to check his e-mail. Of course Bree would still want to be with him. She had even stronger feelings about her father than he did. She understood how much good this forest could do. She was rational and intelligent and a team player. She wasn’t going to freak just because he was about to present a plan that would inadvertently—sort of—impact her father.
Okay. More than “sort of.” It would be a serious detriment to Rob’s plans. But wouldn’t that be the best possible solution? To make a change that would solve the Rob problem while bringing all kinds of good to the community and making it far more likely that the forest would receive widespread support?
It might look as if he was being vindictive; but really, from where he sat, it was a win-win. Long-term, of course.
His phone came to life with the notification of an incoming text. Livvy.
His gut clenched. She never bothered him in the daytime unless it was critical.
Please let one of the kids be sick and she needs me to run to school and do the uncle thing . . .
Hi baby brother.
Shit. She never called him that.
Are you busy tonight? I might need a shoulder. Also, the kids and I might need a place to stay.
Shit shit shit.
Do you want me to come over?
Yes please. Around five, if you can. The kids both have away games so they won’t be home.
Should I bring backup?
No. Just you.
I’ll be there. If you need me earlier, just say the word.
Thanks.
He placed the phone beside his laptop and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm himself. Damn Carl. He must have fucked up big-time.
He kind of hoped Livvy would be okay with him punching the bastard. Just once more. Just for the sheer satisfaction of messing up that face that made Carl so appealing to other women.
Across the table, Bree caught his eyes. She raised her brows the slightest bit—a silent okay?
He gave a tiny shake of his head. Her eyes clouded with what he knew was concern.
He grabbed his phone as the last group member hurried into the room. As Alice called them to order, he tapped out a fast message:
Livvy. Tell you later.
Bree was good. She managed to wait until the second report and a mention of dates before she casually picked up her phone. Anyone watching would have thought she was adding something to her calendar.
Big families must lead to more sneakiness than small ones did.
They made it through the various subcommittees and updates. Alice raised her pen in the air and pointed it at Bree and Spence.
“You two. You’ve both had some good suggestions for features to add to the forest. Playground.” The pen aimed at Spence. “Wedding pavilion.” She focused on Bree, then glanced around the table. “I know we got caught up in the grant work last time so I want us to talk about that before we move on to other business.”
“I think—” Mercy began, but Spence pushed his chair back. He had neither the time nor the patience for an endless debate today.
“Excuse the interruption, Ms. Rodrigues, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to present a third option.” He pulled the plans from his briefcase and spread them on the table. “If we were to make a slight shift in our boundaries and expand into this area, down here by Butternut Creek, I think you’ll see that we could accommodate both of those excellent additions.”
Chairs squeaked as everyone stood. Heads huddled around the plans. Fingers traced the lines. Spence heard muttered words.
“. . . public land . . .” “. . . the creek bed . . .” “. . . the empty fire station . . .”
Bree was at the edge of the circle, at a bad angle to see the side with the expansion, but at the mention of the fire hall her head snapped up. Her gaze met Spence’s. Her eyes, wide and disbelieving behind her glasses, were like a slug straight to his gut.
Damn it, Fred. You couldn’t wait a day?
“Excuse me,” Bree muttered, and dove under arms and around waists until she had a better view.
He knew the minute she saw what he was suggesting. Her finger hovered over the location of the fire hall. Her head stayed bowed. Her back rose and fell in short breaths that were suddenly interrupted by one long one that seemed to go on forever.
When she straightened, her face was as blank and unreadable as it had been at the very first meeting all those months ago.
She grabbed her bag, said something to Alice, who nodded sympathetically, and slipped out the door.
He wanted to go after her. Wanted to tell her to stop, think, realize that this could be the best solution for everyone.
But Alice was watching. And Keenan had a question.
And the vibrating of the phone in his pocket reminded him that the sooner he got out of this meeting, the sooner he could get to Livvy.
Bree was going to have to wait.
Chapter Twelve
Bree walked out of the meeting and outside, heading across campus. She didn’t dare go to her office, or her apartment, and she was too distracted to drive. But she couldn’t stay in the meeting.
She hurried across the quad until she reached the library. Once there, she walked straight through to the inner courtyard—one of her favorite spots on campus. Sheltered from the wind, hidden from view, and usually unoccupied, it had always felt like her own personal refuge.
Today was no different. She stepped into the concentrated sunshine and made her way down the pebbled path to her preferred bench beneath a willow that had just enough leaf growth to give it a fuzzy green sheen. She dropped her bag onto the slats and sat down. Gingerly, as if to keep
from hurting something.
Then she slumped, covered her face with her hands, and drew a long, shuddering breath.
She wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. She wasn’t supposed to feel as if someone had taken her favorite teddy bear and gutted it, but that was exactly what she was feeling.
She wanted Rob gone. Yes. But not like this. Not with a public robbery.
She stared up into the green and blue above her. No. That wasn’t what hurt the most.
She didn’t want it to be because of Spence.
“Damn it!”
It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel so wrong. It shouldn’t make her feel that she was being ripped in half, as if she was being pushed into making a choice. None of this made sense.
But it did hurt. And that was why her hands were shaking and her breath was tight in her chest and her throat felt clogged and stuffed full of all the feelings she didn’t want to be having.
Because if she was hurting, it meant that she cared. About Spence? Yes. But that was no surprise.
It was Rob. She cared about Rob.
“Son of a lying, stealing motherfucker,” she whispered. “How the hell could I still care?”
But the raw, scraped-up edges of ache inside her made it very clear. She did.
Her phone pinged. She checked the display, though she knew who it would be, knew what he was going to say. And what was she supposed to tell him? Sure, Spence, I have no problem taking the step that will make it clear to my father that he has no place in this town. Don’t worry, Spence. It’s perfectly fine with me if we give him the equivalent of a giant public Fuck You?
She swallowed a sob and opened the message.
Sorry I didn’t warn you. Things happened fast. Hope you’re okay. Talk tomorrow?
Tomorrow? He thought this could wait until—
Her anger died as fast as it had flared. Livvy. Something was up with Livvy, and from the way he had been clutching his phone like he was imagining it was a neck, she would bet the something was Carl.
She had to talk to Spence. They had to hash this out and she had to make him see that there had to be another way to make this happen, another way to build the forest that would honor his father without ripping the soul out of hers.
But not today. He had enough to cope with right now, with his own family. She couldn’t ask anything of him now.
OK, she typed, and sent it off.
Then, while the phone was still open—while she still had the nerve—she sent another message.
Could I come over tonight?
Five minutes later, her father texted back one word.
Yes.
* * *
Spence made the trip from the university to Livvy’s house in record time. His head told him that there was no need to race, that Livvy was fine now and nothing would happen until Carl got home. Didn’t matter. His head had been wrong before.
Like when it kept telling him that Bree really meant what she’d said about not wanting her father to stay in town.
He slowed as he cruised past Livvy’s house. All appeared fine from the outside. Her car sat in the driveway, which was unusual for this time of day, but other than that, there was no sign of trouble. He parked around the corner to avoid tipping Carl off to his presence, then hurried back to the house.
As he walked, he checked his phone again. Nothing from Livvy. Nothing from Bree.
He knew he should have warned her. But Fred hadn’t expected the plans to arrive so soon, and Spence hadn’t wanted to say anything until he saw them, and . . .
And the badass of Calypso Falls had been chickenshit.
He turned off the sidewalk and sprinted up the driveway. Not that it would have made any difference to Bree, he suspected. From the way she’d hightailed it out of the meeting, he doubted even she could’ve have known how hard it would hit her.
When the hell was he going to learn that women could swear one thing was true until they were blue in the face, only to turn around and do the exact opposite?
At least Livvy was finally coming to her senses.
He gave a fast knock on the door and let himself in.
“Liv?”
“In the bedroom,” came the subdued reply.
He hustled down the hall to find Livvy removing shirts from the closet and folding them neatly before nestling them in a suitcase that lay open on the bed. Her eyes were puffy and red and the trash basket overflowed with tissues, but she was moving and she was packing Carl’s things and she was doing what had to be done.
“Hey.” He moved toward her with his arms open but she shook her head and grabbed another shirt.
“Don’t. Just . . . If you hug me, I’m going to lose it. And if I start crying again I won’t be able to stop, and I really need . . .” She pinched her lips together before forcing a smile. “Later, okay?”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.” He glanced at the suitcase, wondering if it would be wrong to sprinkle something toxic between the neat folds of fabric. “What do you need me to do?”
“Right now, just talk to me. Later, just be here while I tell him . . .” She took a deep breath. “It’s one of Max’s teachers this time.”
So that was what did it. Carl had finally crossed the line and done something that directly affected the kids.
“I’m going to have to call the school and see if he can be moved to a different class, or what the procedure is,” she continued, “but I can’t yet. I don’t want word to get back to Carl.”
Spence thought of Bree’s wide eyes, her white face. “It might not be a bad idea if he did have some warning. It would make it less of a shock, maybe mean you wouldn’t have to work as hard to convince him it’s over.”
“No. Because it would just give him time to figure out how to try to talk me out of it, and I can’t . . . I’m not going to let him change my mind this time, but I still only have so much . . . you know? Surprise is the only thing I have on my side.”
“Surprise, and me.”
“Yeah. You.” She set another shirt carefully on top of the pile. “Thank you for coming so fast,” she whispered. “I told myself I would be fine, but you know, this is just so . . .” She yanked another shirt from the closet and held it to her chest. “The thing is, part of me still loves the fucker.”
“Livvy.” He stepped her way again, instinct overruling her request, but again she stepped back.
“Listen to me, okay? I need to . . . He’s going to try to talk me out of this. He’s going to be angry at first, and then he’ll apologize, and he’ll cry, and he’ll promise it will never happen again. It’s what he always does.”
Oh God. How many times had she gone through this already, that she could predict Carl’s reactions so easily?
“And then he’ll start telling me why we can’t . . . why I can’t walk away. He’s going to talk about the kids. About how they need him. And about how hard it is to manage on my own. He’s going to remind me that . . . that he’s Max’s Scout leader, that he’s the one who goes camping, that he’s the one who helped Emma’s class build their float for the homecoming parade last year. He’s going to pull out everything to remind me what a good father he is, and I’m going to listen, because it’s all true. He does all those things and he loves the kids and somewhere deep down, I think he still loves me, too. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but . . .” Her smile broke his heart. “But I guess if I can still love him, anything can be true, right?”
“Right.”
“Anyway,” she said, wiping her eyes, “here’s the big thing. He’s going to swear that it’ll be different this time, he’ll go to counseling, he’ll end it with her, he wants another chance. That we deserve another chance. And I’m going to listen to him and I’ll want to believe him. I’m gonna want it so bad.”
The ache in her voice told him that she had
walked this path too many times before. At that point he knew that the hardest task of the whole night would be to hear that pain in his sister’s voice and still keep himself from beating the living hell out of Carl.
“You can’t let me back down, okay, Spence? No matter what he says. No matter what I say. You have to remind me that I knew this would happen and I have to end it this time. Tell me whatever you have to. Remind me that a good father doesn’t put his family through this over and over. Tell me that he’s used up his chances. Tell me that I predicted all of this, and I’m not backing down this time.” She managed a small smile. “That’s the real reason I asked you to come this time, you know. I’m not afraid of Carl. I’m afraid of me. That I’m not strong enough.”
“Shit, Livvy. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Thanks. I don’t feel it, you know?”
He looked at the shirt balled up in her hands. “You want me to finish that? Let me take care of Carl’s stuff so you can pack a bag for you and the kids, just in case?”
She looked down at the shirt, gave it a little shake, smoothed it out. “No, thanks. I have to . . . I need to do it myself. But if you could find the number for a locksmith, maybe give them a call and see when they could get here . . .”
“I’m on it.”
He walked out to the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to hear. When he pulled out his phone, he saw he’d missed a message from Bree.
I hope Livvy is okay.
She will be, he typed back, then added, How about you?
The only reply he got was silence.
* * *
Bree stood on her father’s doorstep and kicked herself for coming so quickly. She should have given herself a couple of days. Got herself together. Figured out what she was going to say, or what she wanted to ask, or what she needed to know.
Romancing the Rival Page 20