Real Men Don't Quit

by Coleen Kwan

  Hurt and anger crashed through her. She wouldn’t stand here with bated breath waiting for his final words.

  “Good night, Luke.”

  She shut the door in his face, once and for all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’ve been working too long,” Aunt Daphne said as she popped her head into Tyler’s workshop. “I’ve made us some tea. Why don’t you take a break?”

  Stretching out the crick in her back, Tyler gave her aunt a rueful grimace. “Okay, but just a quick one.”

  “Oh, your poor hands!” Aunt Daphne exclaimed as she set the mugs on Tyler’s workbench. She picked up Tyler’s hands and inspected the blisters and shorn nails, concern filling her expression. “Love, what have you been doing to yourself?”

  Just trying to get over a broken heart by filling in all my waking hours. Damn, what a horrible cliché she’d become. Disentangling her hands, she picked up the mug and sipped at her tea.

  “I need to get this done.” She gestured to the workbench littered with bits and bobs for her jewelry making. “Since Crystal Kerrigan reneged on her custom piece, I’ve decided to take it apart and make a lot of smaller pieces I can sell.”

  Aunt Daphne pulled up a stool next to her. It was the weekend, and her aunt had come over to mind Chloe while Tyler worked.

  “Crystal was dumped from that celebrity dancing show she was supposed to host. That’s why she didn’t want your jewelry anymore. Not that that excuses her behavior. She should still have paid for it.”

  Tyler shrugged. “I don’t care anymore.” There was a lot she didn’t care about anymore, ever since she’d shut the door on Luke two weeks ago. She hadn’t expected it would hurt so much, but the past weeks had been a lesson in mental torture. Only working on her jewelry gave her any relief. “I need the money.”

  “I see you’ve finally got your car fixed at least.”

  The mug wobbled in her grip and some tea splashed onto her workbench. “Yes,” Tyler said, concentrating on mopping up the spill.

  The Monday after Luke had left, a mobile car service mechanic had turned up on her doorstep and told her he’d been sent to fix her car, the bill already taken care of. She’d contemplated telling the guy to bugger off, but in the end practical considerations overrode her pride, and she told him to go ahead. She needed a car, and if Luke wanted to salve his conscience by fixing her clunker, then she wouldn’t complain.

  “Is everything okay, love? You seem so distracted these past few weeks.”

  “Oh, it’s the store,” she improvised. “Now that Ally’s on honeymoon I’ve had to work extra shifts.” Not that she minded, as it helped distract her from brooding over Luke for too long. “And I’ve had a couple of phone calls from Gretchen, too.”

  “I see.” Her aunt set down her tea mug and eyed her cautiously. “She still wants to see Chloe?”

  When it came to Gretchen and her demands, Aunt Daphne had always been curiously neutral, refusing to criticize her as much as Tyler hoped.

  “She wants Chloe to stay a weekend at her farm. Naturally, I refused.” She compacted her lips at the memory of Gretchen’s hectoring request.

  “Hmm.” Aunt Daphne took another sip of tea.

  “Instead, I offered to take Chloe there for a few hours one Sunday afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Her aunt’s face broke into a smile. “That’s so kind of you. I’m glad you’re working things out with Gretchen.”

  “As long as she drops this insane idea that I’d ever give Chloe up to her.”

  “I think she knows that’s wishful thinking. It’s good you’re learning to cope with Gretchen. One day hopefully you’ll be able to forgive your mother, too.”

  Tyler inhaled sharply. “Why do you have to bring her up?”

  “Because you’ve never forgiven her for putting you in foster care, and that clouds your entire relationship with Gretchen and Chloe.”

  “Why should I forgive her?”

  “Some people are simply not made to be parents, especially single parents, and your mother is an extreme case. After your father died, she went to pieces. She couldn’t cope with you, maybe because you reminded her too much of him. Your mother was well aware of her shortcomings, almost too aware. She worried she’d start abusing you if you remained with her. So she did what she thought was best. She put you in foster care, knowing you’d be safer away from her.”

  Hurt and bitterness filled Tyler’s lungs to bursting. “And that excuses her lack of feeling?”

  “No…I don’t know why she couldn’t love you.” Tears filled her aunt’s eyes. “I would have taken you gladly with all my heart, but I wasn’t here at the time. I’m sorry for that.”

  Aunt Daphne had been nursing a sick husband overseas and had only returned after his death. Tyler stood and hugged her. “Don’t be. I’m so grateful you rescued me in the end.”

  “But you mustn’t keep blaming your mother. I’m sure every parent sometimes has visions of running away from his or her responsibilities.”

  Just like she had, for a few brief hours when Chloe was just a baby. She’d run away, but it had been the right thing to do, as Luke had told her. Maybe she needed to cut her mother a bit of slack, like she was trying to with Gretchen. The constriction around her chest eased a notch only to cinch tight again as she wished Luke were there. The last time he’d offered her advice on Gretchen, she’d snapped at him, but now she saw how right he’d been.

  Why did she have to fall in love with him? Why had she passed over so many others to pick the most unsuitable guy to lose her heart to? But she hadn’t chosen him. She’d had no choice in the matter. Love had struck like lightning, random and devastating.

  …

  Helen placed a covered casserole dish on the kitchen table and assessed the room with a calculating eye. “Do you have enough fruit and vegetables?” she asked Luke, nodding at the fruit bowl that held one moldering onion.

  Luke ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. This evening Helen was doing the bossy big-sister act to the max. “I’ve got tomato juice.”

  She studied him, head tilted. “When did you last shave?”

  Christ. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have some Sunday dinner thing to go to?”

  “I’ve got a few minutes.” She rested her hip against the table and made herself comfortable. “How’s the writing coming along?”

  “Fine.”

  “No writer’s block, then? You’re getting lots done?”

  “Tons.”

  “Then why are you so grumpy?”

  “I’m not grumpy,” he barked before he caught himself and added more reasonably, “Sorry, I’ve been working some long nights.”

  The writing had been pouring out of him, but it hadn’t stopped him from thinking about Tyler; she was the inspiration behind one of his main characters, after all. And when he wasn’t writing, she was always in the background, ready to assert her presence when he dropped his guard. The smallest, silliest things brought her immediately to the fore—a faint scent, a snatch of music, even the color purple, and then he could waste God knows how long thinking about her. Missing her. Damn, how he missed her. Her and Chloe.

  Sometimes the memories got too much, to the point where all he wanted was to jump into his car and drive over to Burronga and beg her to let him move in with her. Which was just the thing a weaker man than he would do.

  “Has Tyler been over since you moved back?”

  His sister’s question rocked him back on his heels. “No,” he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

  Helen pursed her lips, and he thought she was about to start lecturing him, but all she said was, “That’s a pity. I like her. Maybe I’ll drop by her store sometime.”

  No, he wanted to protest. If she did that, he wouldn’t be able to help himself from bombarding her with questions, like how was Tyler, what was she wearing, did she seem happy? Was she seeing anyone new? His stomach rolled at the thought. He picked up the casserole, intent on shoving it into the
refrigerator.

  “I saw our father in town today,” Helen said abruptly.

  His fingers clamped around the casserole dish. “Yeah?”

  “It’s no use trying to hide things from me. I know you got him an apartment. We all know.”

  Slowly he stored the casserole and shut the fridge. “He’s pathetic and selfish, but I can’t turn my back on him.” When Tyler had pressed that book of poems in his hands, she’d reminded him of the good in his father. Luke couldn’t be the partner that she deserved, or the dad that her daughter needed, but maybe he could be a more forgiving son. He would continue supporting his father and not expect anything in return. “Don’t be too mad with me, sis.”

  “I’m not mad at you!” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Luke, I know you can’t help yourself. You’re just like Mum.”

  A tremor ran through him, cracking his facade. “You think I’m like Mum?”

  “Exactly like her. So forgiving and loving and big-hearted.”

  He’d always feared he took after his feckless father, not just in looks but in character too. But now Helen was telling him the opposite, and she couldn’t have said it at a better time—now, when he’d reached rock bottom.

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “Thanks, sis. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “Silly.” She laughed and squeezed his shoulder before breaking free and gathering up her handbag. “I’d better get going. Oh and Luke”—she paused at the back door—“I think you might want to take a shower soon. Like right now, perhaps?”

  “Good night, sis.”

  When she was gone, he sniffed at himself and decided she was right about the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he’d rinsed off and changed into fresh jeans and a T-shirt when he heard a knock at the door. Probably Helen, returning to give him instructions on how to heat up the casserole. He opened the door with a quip ready, but the words dried up when he saw Tyler standing in front of him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He gaped at her, dumbfounded, unable to say anything. The dusky light from the hallway fell on hair fierier than he remembered. Under his gaze she shifted uneasily, her long legs encased in tight blue jeans and muddied boots. Without makeup, her face was pale and young.

  “Hi, Luke.”

  Her husky voice trailed over him like a lit sparkler. “Hi.” He swallowed. “Do you want to come inside?”

  “No, Chloe’s in the car.” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the beat-up hatchback parked at the curb. “Um, I was just passing through, and I thought I should drop these off.” For the first time he realized she was holding a carrier bag, which she proffered to him. “It’s some stuff you left at my house. I suppose I could have mailed it to you, but seeing as I was in the area…”

  “Thanks.” He took the bag from her.

  “Okay, I’ll see you, then.” Wrapping her suede jacket around her, she turned away.

  “Wait.” Impulsively he stepped forward, everything in him protesting at her leaving. She stopped, watching him warily while he struggled to come up with something to say. “What were you doing around here?”

  If she thought the question prying, she didn’t indicate that, instead pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Chloe and I were visiting Gretchen. Her farm’s not far away.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How did it go?”

  “Better than I expected. Gretchen seemed to go out of her way to be pleasant to me, which must have almost killed her. But Chloe had fun.”

  “So you’ll go again?”

  “We’ll see.” She sucked in her lower lip, frowning slightly. “It wasn’t much of a picnic.”

  If he’d accompanied them, maybe it could have made things easier for her. He would have been able to soothe her fears, take the edge off awkward moments… But he’d walked away from any right to be at her side.

  “It’ll be easier next time,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She sounded choked, like she didn’t believe him. Her slim throat worked as she continued to stare at him with those deep blue eyes of hers, and it hit him that she was as affected by this meeting as he was. I always knew you were going to leave. That was what she’d said to him, and she’d meant it, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t missed him, maybe as much as he’d missed her.

  He’d hurt her. He’d been careless and selfish, taking what he wanted and believing there’d be no consequences just because he’d laid down the ground rules. But she was hurting, and he was to blame. Despite what his sister had said, he was just like his father. Narcissistic. Worthless. Damaged.

  He shivered, the brisk evening breeze scraping ice across his skin. His insides churned like dead mud. He had to make her leave. Now. Every minute she stayed only exacerbated his emptiness. “Thanks for dropping off my stuff.”

  She bit her lip and hugged the jacket tighter. “I’d better be going.”

  This time, he let her go, but it was too late. He should have let her walk away weeks ago.

  …

  The car wobbled as the flapping, grinding noise from the left rear tire grew louder.

  “No, no, no,” Tyler groaned. Not a flat tire. Not now, of all times. As the car lurched, she gripped the steering wheel tight and brought the vehicle to a halt on the side of the road.

  Right on cue, the thunderstorm that had been threatening all afternoon broke, and rain came crashing down. Chloe lay asleep in the backseat. The wet, thundery night pressed in on them while traffic whizzed past on the highway. Tyler rested her aching forehead against the steering wheel and shut her eyes. Why the hell had she thought dropping in on Luke would be a good idea? All it had done was opened the wounds wider and poured in an oceanful of salt. She squeezed her eyelids against the hot sting building up inside. I won’t cry, I won’t cry, I damn well won’t cry. She’d wasted enough tears over him. It was time to move on.

  Time to change the tire, too. No point waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, because he didn’t exist. She flicked on the emergency lights before heaving herself out of the car. The rain pelted down as she hunted for the jack, wheel blocks, and wrench. By the time she had all the equipment ready, her hair was sodden and her suede jacket was ruined.

  As she positioned the wheel blocks, a vehicle pulled up behind her, its headlights dazzling her. The driver got out and approached. In the heavy downpour all she could make out was a dark silhouette outlined against the brightness. Her heart faltered as she realized she was alone and stuck in the middle of nowhere with a young child asleep in the back. What if this was some crazy coot hell-bent on mischief?

  Grabbing the wrench with both hands, she scrambled upright. Then her heart jumped into her throat when she realized it was Luke halted in front of her.

  “What are you doing here?” she yelled above the crashing rain.

  He tilted his head at her car. “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

  Confused emotions roiled in her, but pride and indignation won through. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve changed hundreds of flat tires without any help.”

  “What about Chloe?” He nodded toward the backseat. “You shouldn’t leave her in there while you’re jacking up the car.”

  Tyler hesitated. He was right, damn it, but she didn’t want to make Chloe stand in the pouring rain.

  “Why don’t I give you both a lift home, and you can get your car fixed tomorrow?” he said.

  “No.” Perhaps she was being unreasonable, but she wouldn’t be beholden to Luke anymore. “I’ll put Chloe in your car, but then I’m changing the tire and going home.” Without you. She tightened her grip on the wrench.

  He shrugged. “Fine.” Opening the rear door, he lifted Chloe in his arms and, sheltering her with his jacket, deposited her in the back of his Range Rover. All through the transfer, Chloe remained asleep.

  As soon as they were clear, Tyler grimly went to work on the jack. Her nerves screeched when Luke hunkered down next to her.


  “Here, let me do that—”

  “No!”

  “For crying out loud, Tyler. I just want to help. Why’re you treating me like a leper?”

  She paused the jack-winding, her chest aching with grief. Couldn’t the man see she was at the end of her tether? It had cost all her courage to face him earlier, and now she had nothing to spare and nowhere to hide. She swiped a sodden lock of hair away from her eyes to glare at him.

  “You should be at home. Writing the book of your heart.”

  “I’ve been writing ten or twelve hours every day.”

  She stared at him. “You have?” When he nodded impatiently, she added, “And it’s good?”

  “I think it’s good. I have no idea what other people will think.” He took hold of the jack, and this time she didn’t resist. Frowning, he worked the jack hard until the car had lifted to the correct height. “Hand me the wrench,” he ordered.

  She gave him the tool and watched as he worked the nuts loose. The thought of Luke writing his heart out made her both satisfied and heartsore. If only…

  “My agent called the other day,” he blurted out.

  The tension in his voice instantly had her nerves corkscrewing again. “What did he want?”

  “He said he’d been talking to my publishers and I had a final chance and six months to write the Kingsley Jeffers sequel.” He gripped the tire, knuckles bone white as he eased it free. “I told him I had better things to do with my time.”

  “Good.”

  “You think so?” The tendons in his neck stood out as he swiveled to stare at her. “You honestly think it was a good decision?”

  “It’s what you want.” She frowned, puzzled by his uncertainty. “Why are you so doubtful?”

  “Because—” He exhaled a loud hiss of frustration as he dumped the flat tire on the ground. “Because if I did take up Elliot’s offer, I’d have a career again. I’d have stability, money, reputation.”

  “But you don’t care about any of those things!”

  “But I do,” he forced out between gritted teeth, “because then I’d have something to offer you.”