“Why would he lie about this? It wouldn’t be of any benefit to him. And it’s not like he knows about . . . about you and me.”
“How about because he’s a goddamned felon who wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped him in an alley?”
Bright spots of red appeared in her face, but she clutched the edge of the table and breathed in.
“Okay. That’s fair. And it’s no worse than things I’ve said about him, so I can’t . . .”
But Spence had reached his limit.
“You want to know if I’m pushing for the plan that takes over the fire hall, Bree? Yeah. I am. Because it makes sense. Because it does the most good for the most people. And if I can do something good, something beautiful for the world, and at the same time I can help send along a message that Rob Elias is no longer welcome in this town, then yeah. Absolutely. In my book, he can’t be dragged down far enough.”
She sat very still and small, as if she was processing his words syllable by syllable. As if she needed time to absorb them or else they would drown her.
“Okay.” She crossed her arms tight over her chest. “Okay. I guess that’s what I needed to hear.”
“What does that mean?”
She stood to look him straight in the eyes, strong and cold and heartbreaking.
“Do you think you can ever come to a point when you won’t take every possible opportunity to strike back at my father?”
He knew what he had to say. He wished he didn’t, because he knew what was going to happen after that, and God, he did not want to lose her.
Except he probably already had.
“No. I’m sorry, Bree, but no. I can’t ever see a time when I would be ready to let go, or move on, or any of that crap. There will be no acceptance. No forgiveness.”
“Then I guess this is . . . good-bye.”
* * *
Bree barely heard anything Spence said after she told him it was over. She couldn’t. No words could slip past the chorus of wait stop no pounding through her.
At least he didn’t try to change her mind, didn’t try to talk her out of her decision. For that, at least, she could give thanks. He simply stared at her for a couple of long heartbeats while a dizzying sea of emotions filled his face.
And then came the blankness. In his eyes, first, and then in her heart.
“Okay, then,” he’d said, and grabbed his jacket. He stopped in the doorway and stared at her. Waiting? Giving her a chance to change her mind?
No. If she had to pick an action, she would swear he was memorizing.
“It was good while it lasted,” he said softly.
“Very good,” she whispered, then clamped her mouth shut to keep the rest of her words from escaping. Words about if you ever change your mind or if you need anything or I can’t believe I’m letting you go because of that slimeball who still owns a piece of me . . .
Someday there would be a way to make Rob pay for all he had cost her. But it would be on her terms. Not the world’s. Hers.
“See you around, Bree.”
“See you,” she said, but it was more of a silent movement of her lips than a real phrase. He seemed to get the message, though, because he nodded swiftly before heading for the entry.
A moment later, she heard the solid thud of the door closing behind him.
She dropped back into her chair and stared at the emptiness. Listened to the silence.
“This is it,” she said to herself. “This is what you have now.”
Maybe, if she sat alone long enough, she would get used to it.
But the newly carpeted room was still empty. And the licensing inspector would be there on Monday, not to mention a crapload of little kids who needed their space to look the way it always did. And her little sister was counting on her.
So Bree did what she did best, what she knew best. She swallowed her tears and she got to work.
Chapter Fourteen
Spence slammed his way into the house, stood in the entry staring at the rooms that were now filled with Bree—the living room sofa, the kitchen breakfast bar, the door to the greenhouse, the bedroom—and promptly stormed back outside. He went around the house to the backyard, not certain of where he was going or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to move.
As soon as he let himself in through the gate, Furgus bounded up to him. Spence crouched down to bury his hands in the long golden fur.
“What the hell just happened, boy? Huh? Can you give me a clue?” Because God knows that the dog would make more sense than anything Spence could come up with at the moment. “For months she’s been swearing she can’t stand her father. She wants him gone. She’ll help get rid of him, even. Then wham bam, fuck you, ma’am, all of a sudden she’s forgiven him.”
Okay. She had never said that, really, at least not that he could remember through his what-the-hell haze. But she had definitely said she wanted Rob to be okay. She didn’t want other people hurting him and driving him away.
“I mean, if she said she didn’t want other people to do it because they didn’t have the right, hey. I can totally get behind that.” He ran a hand over Furgus’s flank. “But even then, damn it, I have the right. Not as much as she does, but I do.”
Not that that mattered, either. Because he was pretty sure Bree wasn’t looking to punish her father anymore.
“And as for that whole line about Rob and Dad . . . Jesus. I thought she was too smart to fall for something like that.” He rubbed both sides of the dog’s belly, just the way he liked. “Damn it, boy. Why can’t anybody ever say what they mean? Or mean what they say?”
Everything was so out of whack. Carl kept insisting he loved Livvy even while he was screwing around on her. Bree kept saying she hated her father, then she turned around and said that, nope, he was back in her good books. And Spence, who had told Bree he wasn’t looking for a relationship because he liked the way it was, suddenly felt as if his world had become a lot emptier.
“Thank God I still have you, buddy.” He gave the dog a thorough scratch behind the ears, sending him into a frenzy of joyful wiggles. “You’re the only thing that makes sense anymore.”
Furgus twisted and licked his hand.
“Yeah. Love you, too, buddy.”
Life would be a whole lot simpler if only people were as smart as dogs.
* * *
Bree was putting the last books back on the shelves when she heard the door open again. Her brief flare of hope was cut off immediately by Annie’s tired “It’s me.”
Time to Big-Sister Up.
Bree slapped her cheeks, both to check for tears—none, thank God—and to smack herself back to what was important. Here. Now. Annie. When her baby sister wandered in with a giant bag in her arms and a weary smile on her face, Bree was reasonably sure that she seemed nothing but calm, cool, and collected.
“Hey, you.” Annie gave the room a fast and appreciative glance. “Oh my God, you so saved my bacon tonight. You are the queen of all big sisters, you know that?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised. I would think that was seared into your brain by now.” That sounded appropriately jaunty, didn’t it? “How is your kiddo, and his mom, and everything?”
“Mom is still in the hospital but doing fine. Dad’s plane landed on time and he is now home with Ryan. They are all exhausted and reeling a bit, but they’re okay. The big question is, how are you?”
“Me? Fine.” Just in time, Bree stopped herself from blurting out a series of follow-up questions: Why do you ask? Why wouldn’t I be fine? Why do men have to be such pigheaded fucks? “I haven’t made it to the gym in ages, so I am totally counting all this lifting and lugging as strength training.”
“As well you should. Want some dinner?” Annie wandered off toward the break room, Bree trailing behind like a homesick puppy. “I had a sandwich wit
h Ryan, but his dad insisted on calling in an order to Cheesy Mac’s for me. And since you are the one who made all this possible, I totally insist on you joining me.”
She hadn’t been able to swallow a bite of the food Spence had brought for her. “Thanks, but I ate already.”
“You’re kidding. You mean I have to enjoy this feast all by my lonesome?”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Well, will you at least sit down and keep me company? Maybe share dessert with me so I can still fit into my jeans tomorrow? Because it’s a s’mores cheesecake, and if you don’t help, I will absolutely eat every bite and—”
S’mores.
Bree let loose with a low, moaning kind of inhalation, one that she tried to silence but couldn’t because it carried so much hurt and disbelief and fury that there was no way she could keep it contained.
Annie looked up sharply. “What was— Bree? Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Bree mouthed automatically, but the words couldn’t get past the ball of sorrow in her throat. “Fine,” she said again, but this time it came out in the shape of tears.
Annie grabbed Bree by the shoulders. “Okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s wrong and I think you need to sit down and breathe and—”
“I still love Dad.”
If anything, the death grip Annie had on her shoulders only got stronger. “What?”
“The lying fucker. I still love him. And so I had to . . .” Some semblance of rationality trickled back in. Annie didn’t know about Spence, had no idea about any of what was going on, why the hell hadn’t Bree been more open with her sisters so that she wouldn’t have to go through all this shitty explanation now?
Lucky for Bree, Annie had years of experience in figuring out the meaning behind words that made no sense.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You”—she pointed to the sagging sofa in the corner—“are going to park your heinie right there. I am going to run upstairs to my secret stash and get the emergency supplies. Then I am coming back here and you are going to tell me everything. And somewhere in there I’m going to recover from the heart attack you just gave me, and then we’ll figure out whatever needs to come next. Okay?” She physically turned Bree and gave her a shove toward the sofa. “Sit.”
And because Bree had kind of stopped knowing how to do much more than respond, she did as directed.
She did, however, have the presence of mind to wait until Annie was running up the stairs before grabbing a pillow and burying her face into it to swallow up the worst of her sobs.
By the time Annie hurried back into the room, Bree had cried the rough edges off her shock and was able to form a real sentence. Especially when she caught sight of the items in Annie’s hands.
“Dove chocolate I understand, but vodka?” she asked in disbelief. “You keep that in a day care center?”
“No. I keep it upstairs in the space that will be my apartment as soon as I save enough money to finish remodeling it. It’s not counted in my day care square footage, kids never go up there, the door to the stairs is locked, and you would not believe how many crises teachers of small children can have. Best thing I ever did for the sanity of my staff was to stock that cupboard. Now.” She yanked the cap off the bottle, eyed the couple of inches left, shrugged, and drank straight from the bottle before passing it to Bree. “Down the hatch and start talking.”
So Bree did.
The vodka burned on the way down, but not as much as the words did as she forced them out. The booze warmed her from inside, but not as much as Annie’s hug when Bree started to cry as she described the task force meeting. The combination of alcohol and acceptance loosened her tongue and her guard—or was that due to Annie’s quiet understanding and the questions that let Bree know her sister truly, deeply wanted to help?
At last Bree was talked out. The bottle was empty, she was surrounded by soggy tissues, and she was pretty sure that if she cried anymore, the tears would have to be formed of blood, because she was completely dry. She let her head drop back against the sofa cushion, blinked up at the ceiling, and swallowed.
“And now . . . now, I’m sitting here with no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”
Annie was quiet for a moment before patting Bree’s hand. “Well,” she said slowly, “I’ll tell you what you’re not going to do.”
“Drive myself home when I’m in this state? Talk to Dad? Tell Spence I . . .” But she had no idea what she would say to him if he were to appear in front of her. I want you back? I want another chance? Hang on, maybe I can learn to hate my father again?
“You’re not going to tell me why the mention of s’mores cheesecake was what put you over the edge, because I’m getting some ideas and they are all making me cringe. Also, you’re not doing any of those other things you mentioned. Because, yeah. Bad plans all around.”
“The good ideas could come rolling in anytime now.” She unwrapped a piece of chocolate and put it on her tongue. “Why is this so hard? Spence and I, we never expected anything to happen. It was supposed to be just about having some fun, you know? And even though this isn’t the way I would have wanted it to end, it wasn’t supposed to be forever. We were both clear on that. It was just, you know. Finally seeing what would happen if we stopped trying to outdo each other for a while.”
“Seriously, Bree. For someone who knows so much about how people’s brains work, you really are a dolt sometimes.”
“Oh, stop with the pep talk. You know I can’t stand it.”
“Fine. Let me be blunt. That thing about you two trying to finally get along? Bullshit. You were finally grown-up enough to deal with something that started a long time ago.”
Oh hell. Was that true?
“You aren’t making this easier, Annie.”
“Not at the moment, nope.”
Did she have to sound so cheerful?
“But in the long run, you know I’m right.”
“I think I might have to throw up soon.”
“No, you won’t. I drank most of the booze. But let me remind you that you’ve been confused about a lot of things. You thought you hated Dad, now you don’t. You thought you couldn’t stand Spence, then it turned out you kind of had major hots for him. Maybe even more.”
“No. Nothing more. Just the hots.” She thought of the teasing, the way he’d stood up for her, the way he challenged her. “Okay, so we had fun out of bed, too. But still. It wasn’t ever supposed to be—”
“Oh for God’s sake, Bree. Stop obsessing over what was supposed to be, okay? Dad was supposed to stick around. Spence was supposed to rock your world and then go. You were supposed to stay in your ivory tower and surround yourself with books and spend all your time learning about feelings so you wouldn’t have to, you know, actually feel them.”
Wait. What?
“But things happen. Life happens. Feelings happen. And you can either spend all your time wandering around asking why nothing stayed the way it was supposed to stay, or you can look at how they actually are and say, okay. Here’s the situation. What do I do now?”
“Isn’t that what I asked you?”
Annie waved away the detail and unwrapped another piece of chocolate.
“Come on, Annie. Don’t hold out on me. Now that I can no longer trust my own emotions and I have no idea who’s a good guy and who’s a bad guy anymore, what am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing.”
Bree turned her head just enough to give Annie the most questioning glare she could manage with swollen eyes. “Nothing? You mean I’m supposed to just hand it over to the universe or some crap like that?”
“No. I mean you’re not ready to do anything yet.”
Bree hiccupped. “I don’t think heartbreak is something you train for, Anniekins.”
“Don’t be an ass, Bree. You know damn well that’
s not what I’m talking about.”
“Maybe it’s the vodka, but honestly? I have no idea.”
“Oh, Bree. You have spent your whole life trying to wrestle it to the ground. You’re like the poster child for self-determination, you know? You never met a challenge you couldn’t master, package up, and gift wrap.”
Funny how Annie made those traits sound less than admirable.
“But this . . . you’re right. You can’t train for this, and you can’t push it. I mean, you’re sitting in a day care center. Everything you see around you is based on it being developmentally appropriate. Why don’t we give Legos to the babies? Forget the part about how everything they pick up goes into their mouth and they would all choke. They’re also not ready for them. They don’t have the fine motor ability to put them together. They don’t have the cognitive ability to create something in their brain and choose other parts to help create the mental picture. They haven’t developed enough for Legos to be an appropriate activity for them. But give them a couple of years and boom. They’re ready.”
“You lost me somewhere around the choking.”
“Breezy, you’ve had a double whammy. You found out you still care very much about someone who hurt you more than anyone else ever has. And then you found out that you care a lot more than you realized about someone who is too busy holding onto his own hurt to give you the kind of lo— the kind of relationship you deserve. I know that doing something is your default mode, but you know, you can’t just push yourself through things like that. You have to give yourself time to catch up. Time to learn the lessons you need to be able to take the next step without choking.”
“But I—”
“Sweetie. Barring some medical or developmental challenge, does every baby learn to walk? Of course they do. Not because of anything we do, really, but because when their muscles and their brains are ready, they figure it out.” She leaned forward, pointing at Bree. “You’re not ready to do anything yet. You have to build up your muscles. And when you’ve done that, you’ll know what you’re supposed to do next.”
Romancing the Rival Page 23