by Jamie Beck
Steffi was strong. Maybe that was why she couldn’t accept the idea of needing help to heal. He thought to raise the issue again but let the moment pass. She insisted she wasn’t hiding anything, which meant she might’ve repressed the worst memories of that night.
Theories were useless and accusations unfair. He needed proof. Proof he still couldn’t get without crossing some legal and ethical lines. “I hope you’re right.”
Steffi snuggled up against his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “Given your impromptu lunch yesterday, are you more or less likely to settle your financial stuff with Val soon?”
“Not sure.” He looked down at her, surprised by the abrupt change in conversation. “Why?”
“I’m closing on the Weber house this week. I hoped maybe you’d given more thought to buying it. I’d love to personalize the design to yours and Emmy’s tastes.”
“I wish.” He held her, enjoying the fantasy of seeing one youthful dream realized. “I’d love it, but it’s not realistic.”
“I know you don’t like to get your hopes up, but too much reality is kind of sad and boring. Dream a little, okay?”
He had no response to that, so he laid his cheek on her head and held her. Had he forgotten how to dream? Was a life without dreams the way he wanted Emmy to see him, or to live?
After a brief silence passed, Steffi sighed in his arms. “I’m sorry today went sideways. I had high hopes of proving that things will be different for us this time, Ryan. Different better.”
“Things are different. We’re older and wiser, if nothing else.” Ryan grinned, then brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He cupped her jaw and kissed her, careful not to make any sudden moves. If he was right about what had happened to her, it could take a lot of healing before she would be comfortable with sex. He allowed himself to let the kiss linger, their tongues acting out the desire, making his skin prickle with need.
Steffi wound her arm around his neck to pull him close. But he broke the kiss before spooking her again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, nuzzling his neck.
“Nothing.” He felt trapped. He couldn’t discuss his suspicions, yet he wouldn’t push her sexually and risk triggering another episode.
“Is there some reason you’re taking things so slow?” She licked his neck before nibbling at his ear.
He stifled a satisfied moan and pulled her tight to his chest. “I’m in the middle of a divorce, Steffi. I just want us to get this right. Let’s not jump into bed until we’re both certain. Mutual trust.”
“You still don’t trust me,” she said, pulling away.
“Do you trust me? I’ve spent plenty of time blaming you and Val for things going wrong. But I smothered you when we were together. I didn’t think through my quickie wedding or fully invest in my marriage. I think we both have relationship issues to sort out.”
“I do trust you, though.”
He kissed her lightly, wishing he knew the best way to handle his concerns. “Thanks. But I want things to be ‘different better’ for us now, too, and not just because you’ve changed. I’ve got to change, too.”
She graced him with a smile. “Don’t change too much. You’re pretty perfect, as far as I can see.”
He grasped her face and kissed her again, tenderly suckling her lower lip before he dipped his tongue into her mouth. He could smell her skin and the scent of her shampoo. The heat of her mouth and her warm hands around his neck had him aching to whisk her up to her room and make love, finally, after all these years apart. He pulled away.
“Ryan?” she asked.
Had he shivered? “Hm?”
She pressed her fingers to the creases between his brows. “You look so sad.”
The front door slammed open, scattering his thoughts like the pile of mail that fell to the floor. They both jolted upright as Claire thumped inside, red-cheeked and wild-eyed.
She stopped short upon finding them in the living room.
“Oh! I didn’t expect you two to be back so early.” She closed the front door before bending to pick up the mail and return it to the table. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Wait!” Steffi said. “What happened to you?”
Claire’s disheveled hair made it look as if someone had tossed her into a barrel and shoved it down a hill. Her chin quivered. “Not what. Who!”
“Who, then?” Steffi asked.
“Peyton’s ambassador, that’s who!”
Peyton’s ambassador?
“Logan?” Ryan sat forward. He hadn’t seen him or Peyton in years. “He’s in town?”
“Did you know?” Claire demanded of Steffi. Panic etched itself across her face, tugging her features downward. “Why wouldn’t you warn me?”
“Warn you of what?” Steffi approached Claire the way one might approach an injured wolf.
“Logan says Peyton’s coming home after this first course of treatment to have her mastectomies and recuperate.” Claire closed her eyes, her body so tense it quivered. “Surely she mentioned it during one of your talks.”
“No, she didn’t.” Steffi reached for Claire’s arm, but Claire pulled away. “I swear, Claire. I had no idea.”
“I hope not. I really hope not. It’s hard enough to know that you’re still friends with her.” She gestured between them with a jerky motion. “We’re partners. You should have my back. I don’t want to be blindsided by Peyton ever again.” Claire’s voice trilled.
Ryan sought to break the tension. “Why is Logan in town? I thought he lived in the city.”
“Visiting his mom, I guess. I don’t know. I tried to avoid him when I spotted him in Connecticut Muffin, but he followed me onto the street. As if being humiliated by one Prescott in my life wasn’t enough . . . he chased me down in public to deliver that news.” Claire trembled, whether from anger or sorrow, he wasn’t sure. She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I can’t believe she’d dare show her face around here. Why can’t she leave me in peace?”
“I don’t think she’s trying to torment you,” Steffi said. “She probably needs to regroup someplace quiet and comforting. Who doesn’t want to go home when she’s sick?”
“Quit defending her!” Claire thrust her index finger toward Steffi. “I doubt you’d like it if Val said she was moving to town and you had to worry about running into her. And Val didn’t even do anything to you. She didn’t steal Ryan . . . you threw him away!”
“Hey!” Steffi cried. “Don’t attack me, Claire.”
“Everyone, cool down.” Ryan stepped between the women. “Claire, I get that you’re upset, but Steffi’s not your enemy. Neither am I. Let’s not say things we’ll regret later.”
“I didn’t mean it.” Claire started crying in earnest. “I’m upset. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder to avoid Peyton. I don’t want her here.”
If Claire could’ve moved quickly, Ryan sensed she would’ve bolted upstairs. Instead, she ambled up with her cane, a steady thud echoing throughout the small home until her bedroom door closed.
“I don’t even know what to say,” Steffi said, still looking up the stairwell. “Mentioning Peyton around Claire is like setting off a live grenade. She can’t get over the whole thing with Todd.”
Ryan understood Claire. Some pain reverberates over and over until you think you might lose your mind, rupturing like a volcano at the slightest provocation.
“It takes time to process betrayal. Look at how I reacted to seeing you for the first time in years.” Ryan shrugged. “She got caught unaware. And if I recall, she always had a little crush on Logan. Maybe that flustered her, too.”
“Middle school crushes don’t count.” Steffi continued to watch the stairs and listen for activity. She looked back at him and let loose a defeated sigh. “Does it feel like we can’t get five minutes of peace?”
Ryan grabbed her into a hug and gave her a quick kiss. “Look at it this way . . . going through difficult stuff together will
strengthen our resilience, right?”
Steffi wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I wish I could help Claire. She needs to talk to someone . . . maybe a counselor.”
“Maybe you could do a two-for-one?” he teased, unable to resist the easy opening.
She slapped his ass. “Ha ha.”
He’d made the joke, but in truth, it wasn’t funny. “Why do you think Claire should talk to someone but you won’t consider it?”
Steffi eased away without a reply. Upstairs, they heard movement and then the sound of running water. Steffi stared up at the ceiling, ignoring his intent gaze.
“I’m not dropping this topic, Steffi. We can’t ignore what happened earlier today,” he prodded. “We need a definitive diagnosis.”
“We?”
“You and me.” He stared into her gorgeous golden eyes. “I think you know that a part of me always cared for you, even when I was sure I hated you. If this is going to work now, we can’t back away from something because it’s hard or scary. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll face it together. We said ‘different better,’ so don’t run away now.”
She huffed. “I won’t run away, but you can’t push me, either. It’s my health. I need to do things my way and on my schedule.”
For the hundredth time, he considered disclosing his suspicion, but the downside outweighed the upside. He needed evidence, and if he got it, he needed to speak with someone about how to broach it, too.
Alternatively, if he got his hands on the police file and turned out to be wrong, then she’d never have to know what he’d done. God, he hoped that would be the case. But if it confirmed his fears, he’d handle the fallout from going behind her back after getting her the help she needed. She’d resent him at first, but once she got better, she’d thank him.
Chapter Nineteen
The old pipes clanked overhead when Claire drained the tub, causing Steffi and Ryan to look upward again. She could offer to upgrade the plumbing for the landlord, but the quirks that made each old house unique comforted her. She’d miss the clanging if it stopped.
“I’ll take off so you can talk to Claire.” Ryan kissed her nose. “She needs a friend right now, and I want to make sure that Emmy understands her attitude this morning is not acceptable.”
“Let me work it out with Emmy on my own.” A scolding from Ryan wouldn’t build trust between Emmy and her. “I’ll get her to help me sand the walls tomorrow. She’ll open up.”
“I won’t make a big deal, but she needs to learn that she can’t manipulate me that way.” He shook his head. “She learned that behavior from watching her mother. I’ve got to nip it in the bud.”
“Fair enough.”
Ryan walked toward the door. “Let’s grab dinner this week?”
“I’ll be pulling double duty now, finishing your mom’s job and overseeing two others, so I’ll probably work most evenings.” She grimaced, then smiled as an idea formed. “If you help me demo the Weber cottage, we can order beer and pizza.”
“I’ll take out my frustrations on an unsuspecting wall,” he mumbled.
She rested her hands on her hips. “What frustrations?”
Ryan peeked up the stairs when the floorboards creaked. “The lack of privacy, for starters.”
Steffi crossed to him and laid her hands on his chest. “We could always slip away to your boat.”
She sensed hesitation on his part. Despite his speech about trust and going slow, she suspected more was at play. Ever since she’d batted him off her on Friday night, he’d restricted touches and kisses to the barest, briefest interactions. Like he might break her or something.
“I’m a little old to be hiding away like that, although those are good memories, for sure.” He kissed her too briefly again.
“The best.” She tried to grab hold of his shirt, but then they heard Claire’s door open.
When her feet hit the top of the stairs, she called out, “I’m coming down.”
“Thanks for the warning!” Steffi joked, “Give us a sec to throw our clothes back on.”
Ryan waited to say goodbye to Claire before he left. Once he’d closed the door, Claire said, “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have interrupted, but I’m really hungry.”
She started toward the kitchen. Claire had always been a stress eater. Given her current mood, she might devour everything in the kitchen.
“It’s okay.” Steffi followed her. “My day was sort of a bust . . . but we got back on track at the end.”
“Why was it a bust?” Claire opened the refrigerator and scanned its contents, opting for leftover mushroom quiche. “I thought you went to Oktoberfest.”
“Emmy was in a petulant mood after spending yesterday with her mother. She still has her heart set on her parents reuniting, so now I’m an enemy. On top of that, I had one of my episodes and lost track of her for a bit.”
Claire popped a slice into the microwave and then glanced at Steffi, eyes wide. “You didn’t!”
“I did.” She grimaced.
Claire folded her arms across her chest. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” Steffi leaned against the counter. “Ryan found her within a few minutes.”
“How scary.”
“He was pissed at first. I’m worried he might lose patience with my problem, though, especially if his daughter could get hurt.”
“He seemed okay just now.” The microwave dinged, so Claire withdrew the quiche and took a giant forkful.
“That’s because he thinks there’s an explanation with a cure. But what if second opinions confirm that this will get worse or more frequent, like with those NFL players? Honestly, if that’s the prognosis, I don’t want whatever good time I have left to be ruined with worry about it getting worse. I’d rather cope day to day without knowing.” There. She’d admitted her deepest fear to Claire. Maybe it wasn’t brave or logical, but it was real. Now if she could just say all that to Ryan without scaring him away. “And if I learn it will get worse, how selfish would it be to ask Ryan to stick by me?”
Her doctor had given her an explanation that satisfied her. That should be enough.
“Now you’re just being stupid.” Claire finished the quiche, then grabbed a box of Golden Grahams from the cabinet and started eating them right from the box. “You keep focusing on the worst-case scenario, but what if you’re wrong? What if there could be help?”
“Let’s not talk about me.” Steffi reached for a handful of cereal, too. “I’m worried about you. Are you feeling better now?”
“Not really.” She shoved another fistful of cereal into her mouth.
“Did Logan say something specific? Did he deliver a message from Peyton?”
“No. It was just him being him . . . and the way he looks.” Claire closed the box and set it on the counter.
“What’s wrong with the way he looks?”
“It’s annoyingly perfect, like Peyton. And then sometimes he looks at me like . . .” Her cheeks got red, and she pushed hair away from her eyes. “I don’t know. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Ryan’s commentary drifted through Steffi’s mind. “You used to like Logan.”
“Everyone did.” Claire raised her hands overhead. “I was a tween, and he was the town god.”
“Fair enough.” Steffi preferred Ryan’s more rugged features. “I’m sure he didn’t set out to make you uncomfortable.”
“He gets me so tongue-tied. I couldn’t think of what to say when he was talking about Peyton. I sputtered . . .” Claire covered her eyes with her hands.
Steffi tempered the smile she felt forming. Ryan might’ve been onto something. “Sounds like maybe you do still harbor a little crush.”
“Not for Peyton’s brother!” she insisted, now reaching for an apple and a paring knife. “I was furious that he confronted me in front of people. Dang it, I shouldn’t have to defend my decision not to talk to Peyton. He’s got no right to corner me in public. See! I’m still mad.”
“I do see.” Steffi took the knife from her hand. “Let’s put this down until you’re calmer.”
Claire kept a tight grip on the apple. “You need to talk Peyton out of coming back here. Please, Steffi. I’ve tried not to put you in the middle of this, but this town is all I have. She can go anywhere and do anything. Please ask her to go somewhere else.”
Steffi hugged her friend. “I’m sorry you’re this upset, but we can’t tell Peyton she can’t come home to recover. Maybe it’s what she needs to get stronger. To regroup. You’ve cut her out of your life, but surely you don’t want to interfere with her recovery. Let’s find a way to prepare you so whenever she does show up, you’re not this upset.”
Claire glared at her and huffed. “Thanks for nothing.” She then bit into the apple and limped off.
“Claire!” Steffi watched her go to the front of the house. “Where are you going?”
“To my mom’s.” Claire pulled her jacket back on and tugged at the zipper.
Steffi trotted to the front door. “Don’t run off. I’m sorry. Let’s find another way that I can help.”
“You’re not helping. You keep pushing me to defer to Peyton, just like you push with our business. You’ve got me fretting about money. Now I have to worry about seeing Peyton. I don’t need all this stress.” Claire grabbed her cane, ranting, “My mom is on my side. She won’t make me feel like Peyton is the wronged party. And if we end up baking something chocolate, all the better.”
“Didn’t go well?” Billy asked Ryan over lunch at a McDonald’s near the courthouse.
Ryan never much liked fast food, but it was cheap, and the fries weren’t half-bad.
“No.” Ryan swallowed some soda, wishing he could have something stronger. “The DA’s taking a hard line, and Owen won’t take a plea that requires some jail time. I can’t believe this could go to trial.”
“This case is sort of high profile now.” Billy nodded thoughtfully. “When a jury sees the size of Owen compared with her, you’ll have a hard time making him look innocent.”
“I know. He’s like the Hulk.” Ryan blew out a breath. “I wish I could put him on the stand. Hearing an IQ level is one thing, but seeing his childlike thought process in action would help me persuade them that he didn’t understand the transaction.”