by Dale Mayer
Of course he knew which he wanted but as he knew it wasn’t going to happen, there was no point in wishing that things were different.
He’d tried so damn hard to be there for her. Now look – it was all gone again. Resolve stretched inside him. He needed to turn a new leaf after this nightmare. He needed to walk away forever. Be friends with her, sure, because he wasn’t going to lose his best friend, George. But it was time to grow up. Realize some dreams were hang ups from previous days. Previous years. Previous lives.
No, it was time to move on.
And leave her behind.
He took a deep breath, feeling better as the cool air hit his lungs.
Bullshit. He felt worse. Fresh air wasn’t going to make any difference in his life. There was only one thing that would.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
Then he felt a hand slide into his and lace their fingers together.
His resolve, his anger, his bitterness dissolved in an instant, and he knew he could no more walk away from her than he could walk away from his heart.
It was impossible.
They were the same.
Chapter 26
Stacy stared down at her hand. Had it actually crept out and done what she thought it might have done? Betrayed her? His hands squeezed over hers so tightly she thought he’d surely break something. But it didn’t hurt. Instead, it was as if by that very pressure, something inside of her was building, an inner tension that needed him to squeeze harder and harder. Maybe finally breaking through the barriers she’d erected against him so long ago. Against the world so long ago. Against fate so long ago.
He turned slowly, and she almost gasped at the pain in his gaze as he studied her. His eyes open, full of hope and yet expecting so much less.
Damn, she was a fool. And a bitch.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shuttered his gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. He nodded. “Not to worry. I’m a big boy.”
He went to drop her hand, but she hung on.
“No,” she cried. “You don’t understand.”
He stilled then slowly turned back to face her. “What don’t I understand?”
“Why I’m sorry.”
A light opened in his gaze, letting her see inside for the first time. Not too far in. But maybe enough.
She dropped her gaze. “It was hard for me. That weekend. I was desperate to know there was a purpose to living. To have a reason to get up every day. When I lost my friends, well, my world collapsed. When I lost them, I was like a ship that had run aground. No way to float away.”
She shivered against the chill inside.
“Nothing to do but be beaten by the times of change, and I felt like I couldn’t move. When I saw you that weekend, something clicked. I needed to be held. Needed to be connected at least in some way to someone else. To the rest of the world.” She stopped, unsure of what to say next and a little embarrassed by the outpouring already. But she needed to get it all out. “I was looking to find a purpose to continue with life. I wasn’t suicidal – I didn’t feel anything.” She gave a small, deprecating movement. “I don’t mean to make so much about it, but I thought if you understood how I felt, maybe you’d understand my reaction.”
When she didn’t continue for a long moment, he nudged her gently.
“And your reaction afterward?” he asked cautiously. “I do understand your reasons for that weekend. We’ve all had that need to be close to someone. But afterward…” Sadness once again glanced off his voice. “What was that all about?”
Instinctively she tried to pull her hand away, only he held her fast, letting her know he wanted answers and he wanted them now.
She opened her mouth then closed it. He narrowed his gaze at her. She gave him a lopsided smile and the truth. “I was scared.”
That dark mysterious gaze widened, and the light inside that she’d seen before slowly flared back into life.
“Scared?” He shook his head. “How the devil could you be scared of me after that weekend? You had to know by then that I’d never hurt you.”
“Not scared of you. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared of caring and losing again. Scared of falling so far off the grid that next time I might not survive. Scared of what could be – knowing I didn’t deserve it. Or you.”
His mouth dropped open.
She continued. “Scared of your lifestyle. It could kill you, you know. Scared of your quick and easy girlfriends because I didn’t want to become one – and yet I just had. I’d never done anything like that before. Promised myself I never would. I held myself accountable to a specific standard.”
“And fell into the ghetto by spending that weekend with me?” This time, his tone was incredulous and so was the hurt.
Damn, all she seemed to do was hurt him.
But she had to get it all out. Then he’d realize that they weren’t going to be any good together. That he could move on. That it was better that he did so.
“For having that weekend that I’d always wanted. I wasn’t like you. I wasn’t like your string of girlfriends, and I didn’t want to be like them. I wanted to have longer than three-day relationships. To care about the people I went to bed with. Sex was never casual for me.”
Her voice dropped. “That weekend I needed you. I wanted you. I took what you offered and then I walked away.” Her voice broke. “I’d always thought I was better than one of your weekend flings, only I ended up falling there anyway. Ended up worse than the other girls. They’d at least been honest about why they were in your bed and what they wanted. Me? I just lied to you. To me. Because I was where I’d always wanted to be,” she admitted, “since forever. And I couldn’t even be honest about it.”
He stared at her in shocked silence, obviously not getting it.
“Don’t you understand,” she cried. “I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve you or to be happy. I couldn’t give you what you needed.” She snorted in disgust. “I should have done more to stop Janice and Francine. More to warn them. Maybe if I’d gone with them I might have been able to save them. I lost them and I survived.” Tears clouded her vision. “Why me? They were so full of life. They shouldn’t have died.”
“Ah hell,” he snapped, exasperation in every line of his body. “Did you really put me through these last few years, us through these last few years, out of guilt? Survivor’s guilt?”
Her gaze widened in response.
“Damn it.” He reached out and snatched her into his arms. “To think of all the pain I’ve gone through—”
“Exactly,” she cried out, trying to step back out of his arms. “I put you through all of that—”
“For being one the smartest women I know, you are the most st—”
“Don’t say it,” she warned.
“Ha. I know the answer to this problem.” And he took her mouth with a force that surprised them both. The bite of pain, the hard pressure of his lips, the clamped arms around her back…
And she barely noticed. She kissed him back with all the longing she’d held inside for so long. Finally, having the freedom to take a little and give a lot, she tried to show him how sorry she was. How much she wanted this. How desperately glad she was to be back in his arms.
Until she tasted salt. As in salty tears.
Her own.
“Jesus.” He pulled back slightly, his thumb reaching to stroke her swollen lips. The look on his face was one of dismay and shame. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his lips as he dropped delicate kisses along her mouth, her chin, and up to her nose and her drenched eyes.
“I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”
“This,” he dropped a tender kiss on her lips, “and this,” he dropped a tiny kiss on the corner of her eyes, “say otherwise.”
She smiled through the tears. “No. It’s an outpouring of emotion, but not pain.”
Then she corrected herself i
mmediately. “Outpouring of pain held in for too long.”
“In that case…” He pulled her closer and cuddled her against his chest. “Cry away.”
And damn if his permission didn’t bring on the waterworks. And she bawled. With shaking shoulders, her face buried against his coat, she released the last few years of what she’d thought she’d been handling only to now realize she’d avoided it and had instead stuffed the pain and hurt deep inside.
*
Royce held her close, his heart full, his mind overwhelmed. Stacy was an incredibly strong woman. She lived in her head so much; she’d used that space to disconnect from her heart. And now that bridge had been rebuilt and the floodgates opened up between them.
It might take her a bit to reconcile the new connection.
He’d be there to help her.
If she would let him.
He knew she’d take a huge step back if she could right now just because it would be more comfortable for her. And she had to be feeling raw.
As he worked through his next step, he realized her shoulders were no longer shaking and her sobs had been reduced to sniffles. He couldn’t help himself – he cuddled her even closer, his cheek resting on top of her head. She’d said a lot that he’d have to consider, not the least about his own behavior. How it looked to others hadn’t been a consideration before. From her perspective, he could understand her hesitancy to go in that direction. He’d had similar thoughts earlier. He didn’t particularly like her assessment, but he understood it. By the same twisted measure, he was incredibly happy she hadn’t led his same lifestyle. How did that work?
Except make him not feel too good about his own standards.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice low, hesitant.
He sighed. It was going to take her some time to feel secure at this new place in her life.
“I’m thinking that I’m guilty of the same judgment. I’m personally very happy that you’ve been more restrained with your relationships,” he admitted. “And that’s not something I expected to feel. It’s never mattered before.”
That startled a gurgle of laughter from her.
He grinned, loving the sound and loving her.
Loving her. He paused. Did he?
He hadn’t quite taken the thought process that far. He’d been obsessed with her for a long time. Loved being with her. Loved making love to her. But did he love her? Hell, yes. And had probably spent more than half of his life in love with her.
A shout from behind had them both turning around.
Stevie. With two travel mugs full of coffee.
“Oops,” Stacy said, “I guess our hour is up.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled at Stevie.
Royce? He just glared at his friend and that all too knowing grin.
Damn friends.
Couldn’t live with them and couldn’t live without them.
Chapter 27
Stacy smiled at Stevie, ignoring his grin. She knew her crying jag still showed on her face. There wasn’t much she could do about it. Besides, Stevie was a romantic. He’d love to think of her and Royce settling their differences. There hadn’t been an open war between them, but there’d been a definite cold front.
She accepted the cup of coffee with relief. “Thank you,” she murmured. She twisted off the lid and breathed in the aromatic steam. “This smells divine.”
“Nothing like a great cup of java to help you overcome all that relationship angst.”
“What would you know?” she countered with a smile. “Your relationships last all of ten minutes.”
Royce gave a great shout of laughter at that while Stevie gave her a wounded look, but in the end his eyes were twinkling.
“And that’s because you won’t go out with me,” he cried out in a piteous voice. “Now if you would…”
“Ha,” she said with a big grin, “Then what?”
“I might manage twenty!”
On that note of laughter, she turned to smile down at the cabin, knowing most of them had likely seen her and Royce make up. Oh well. Let them. She felt better. That’s what counted. And that Royce should feel better. She slid a sideways glance his way and realized he was frowning.
She followed the direction of his gaze.
A person stumbled through the trees. Fell. Got up and stumbled forward, but heading for the cabin.
“Good Lord. Who is that?” she cried out.
Stevie turned to stare. Then they all galvanized into action.
They raced across the hill, only to watch the person fall again, and this time he didn’t get up.
Royce reached him first, Stevie and Stacy on his heels.
Royce picked the stranger up and ran to the cabin. Stacy pulled her phone out and called for medical assistance. She gave what little details she had, watching as Stevie peeled past Royce to get to the cabin in preparation.
She came barreling in to see Royce lay the stranger down in front of the fire, everyone crowding around as he tried to warm him up.
A scarf was wrapped around his head, and he wore a coat that appeared to be too big.
Royce gently undressed him.
And they all stopped in shock.
Stacy ran up to squeeze in between her brother and Kathleen.
“What’s wrong?” she cried.
“It’s Yvonne.” Royce said, his voice grave. “Only this is not her coat.”
Stacy came down beside Yvonne and picked up her icy hand. “I’ve called it in. Where could she have been all this time?”
“Given she’s wearing someone else’s coat, do we want to assume she was alone?” George said in a hard voice, his gaze looking out the window and the mountain behind them. “I suggest a group search the direction she came from and make sure there isn’t another person in trouble.”
Stacy nodded. “Please do. We’ll try to get her warm until the ambulance arrives.”
She could hear most of them splitting off and getting dressed to search. While Stevie and Royce worked on Yvonne, she stripped off the wet clothing and boots. Once Yvonne was wrapped up in blankets, she carried the clothing to the kitchen table and carefully went through the pockets. It was a man’s coat. She continued to work her way through the pockets and folds, looking for anything to indicate what had happened and who the other party was. Inside the breast pocket of the big coat was a business card. She pulled it out. “Brian Hennessey.”
“What?”
“Inside the pocket is a business card with that name on it.”
“Repeat the name,” Royce asked. She walked over and showed it to him. He shrugged. “I’ve never heard it.”
She turned it for Stevie to look at and he shook his head. “Me either.” He turned his attention back to Yvonne.
Stacy turned her attention to the boots next and searched both, including lifting the sole of one and then the other. Nothing. However, they were an expensive leather brand by a high-end company. And new from the looks of them. The coat was one hundred percent wool and looked more appropriate for a stroll around town than in a winter resort. However, it wasn’t impossible.
She checked the pants and shirt next. Yvonne had on long underwear. And all four items were ones Stacy recognized. So she’d been in her own clothes but wearing a man’s coat. That wasn’t even all that odd.
“Did you find anything, Stacy?”
“No. Nothing useful.” She kept the oddities out of the conversation for the moment. She turned back to the men. “How is she?”
“In bad shape.”
In the background, she heard the sirens of an incoming emergency vehicle. She raced to the door.
The police SUV pulled up behind. Yvonne was quickly loaded up and taken away, leaving the three of them to face the police. When they explained who she was, she was delighted to see the relief on their faces. No one had expected her disappearance to turn out so well. Stacy showed them the clothing they’d taken off of her and the business card.
At the card, the firs
t officer asked, “Do you know this name?”
Stacy shook her head. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I might know his face, but I don’t know his name.”
“He’s the man you found frozen in the snow.”
She stared him in shock. “What? But that means Yvonne was with him? As she’s wearing his coat. Only…”
Royce finished her thought, “Only he died before she went missing.”
*
Royce didn’t like this turn of events. He stood, arms crossed in front of the fire, as he listened to Stacy and the cop work things back and forth. The problem was there was no easy way to work it. They’d found a dead man. Two days later, a friend of theirs went missing and turned up the next day wearing the dead man’s coat.
That didn’t make sense any way he tried to make the pieces fit. He’d also taken one of the policemen aside and handed over the syringe. The cop hadn’t been impressed at not being called right away but asked a few more questions and packed the syringe up for testing.
As the cops made a move to leave, they looked up the hill to see the group coming back.
George reached them first. “No sign of anyone else,” he said, gasping for breath. “We tracked her a long ways up but need snowmobiles to go any further.”
“We have someone on the way already. Thanks for checking.” The cop pulled out the business card. “Do you know this name?”
George read the card, a frown on his face as he said, “No, should I?”
“It was in the man’s coat she was wearing,” Stacy said.
He looked over at her, a question in his eyes.
It was the cop who answered. “The card belongs to the dead man you all found in the snow a few days ago.”
“What?” George reacted in shock. “How is that possible that she was wearing his coat, then?”
“Maybe he took it off in his confusion and she found it while she was in trouble and put it on. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“We’ll see,” the cop said noncommittally. “There will be an answer.”
“There always is,” Royce said quietly, his gaze on Stacy, whose eyes hadn’t left the business card in the cop’s hand. What did she know?