by Toni Blake
“Speaking of your new bed,” she ventured, “have you…been thinking? About the possibility of staying in Destiny?”
He leaned back in his chair and blew out a long breath. “If it was just you and me, honey, sure. But it’s not. Have you thought about Cincinnati?”
She nodded. She had. And she wasn’t opposed to the idea, except that here she had a job. And he probably did, too. And that mattered. She’d taken the summer off, but she wasn’t made of money. “The thing is, school starts soon, so I doubt I’d find a teaching position this late in the summer other than the one I’ve been offered here. And despite the life of leisure I appear to live, my funds are getting a little depleted.”
He shrugged knowingly. “I hear ya on that. I’m in the same boat after quitting my job in May to come out here and take care of Wayne. I had some money saved, but it’s mostly gone now. Although”—he leaned forward toward her, his dark eyes pinning her in place—“I’d take care of you, pussycat, whether or not you find a job. You can count on that.”
That touched her, deeply, because she suspected Mick had never wanted to take care of anyone else but himself before—and Wayne, this summer. But she wasn’t the sort of woman who could be fulfilled letting a man take care of her. Okay, sexually maybe. And emotionally, too, even. But not financially. “Thank you for that. But it’s important to me to…do something, you know? In fact, as much as I’ve enjoyed my leisure time this summer, I’m ready to get back to work, back to teaching.”
And while part of her wanted to throw all that to the winds and say, ‘Yes, Mick, I’ll come to Cincinnati with you and we’ll figure it all out,’ another part of her wanted to do what she wanted for a change. She’d given up her dreams for Terrence, gone where he wanted, did what he wanted. So, no matter how much in love she was with Mick, she didn’t want it to be the kind of love that required her to sacrifice everything she cared about. She needed to do things better, smarter, this time. She needed to take steps to make this solid, make it last.
And the truth was, she had more than just a job here. She had her father. And her friends. Things that mattered. Things that…well, things she was slowly starting to realize she wanted to keep in her life. On an everyday basis.
“Okay then,” he said, pushing to his feet, “if you hate the idea of leaving, if you want to take this job, then…it’s all right, pussycat.”
She wasn’t sure how to read his words. “And you would stay, too?”
He hesitated slightly. “I’m trying to work that out in my head right now. I’m trying to tell myself it would be okay.”
She stood up next to him, took his hands. “It would. I promise. I would make it be okay.”
“You can’t control a whole town, Jenny.”
She released his hands to point a teasing finger at him. “Don’t sell me short, Brody—turns out I can do a lot of things I never thought I could.”
A few minutes later, she walked him down to the dock. She’d truly quit caring if anyone saw at this point—maybe it really was time for people to see, to know, to find out there was more to Jenny Tolliver than the good girl they all saw, and more to Mick Brody than the guy they’d known years ago. And Mick was slowly beginning to seem less worried about being spotted, as well, which she figured was a good sign all the way around.
Nonetheless, it was another quiet, still summer morning as the sun began to burn hotly down on Blue Valley Lake, no neighbors in sight. Mick kissed Jenny goodbye, told her he’d be back later this afternoon, and she watched him row away from her. He kept his eyes on her the whole time and she found herself wishing she could capture the moment, how strong and sexy he looked in the morning light, his T-shirt stretched taut across the muscles in his chest, that wayward lock of hair drooping over his forehead.
She’d just started cleaning up the breakfast dishes a little while later when she heard a car in the driveway and looked out to see her father’s cruiser. She opened the back door to greet him—realizing that Mick wasn’t the only person who always entered this house through that particular door. “Morning, Dad,” she said.
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but still, again, at least he was trying. “Jennygirl,” he said in greeting.
“Want some eggs?” she asked as he stepped inside. A bowl of them still sat on the counter. “I can reheat them.”
He shook his head. “That’s nice, but no. Just thought I’d stop by before I head to work since I…haven’t seen you much lately.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. He hadn’t seen her much since he’d found out about Mick Brody. But since Mick wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t leaving her life as she’d expected, she decided it was time to start…initiating her father to that idea.
So she put on a smile and said, “Guess what. Mick fixed the air conditioner. He used to work in heating and cooling. A small part needed to be replaced, and he says it’s good as new now.”
The look on her father’s face told her he couldn’t decide whether to be happy or sad—she knew it was definitely good news that the unit wouldn’t have to be replaced, but that it was going to take a while before he got used to the idea of Mick being around, in her life, in their lives. “Well, reckon that’s a relief,” he said.
“And,” she began cautiously, dropping her voice despite their being alone, “I may as well tell you—Wayne died a few days ago, so…there’s no more secret to keep. It’s done now, and no one ever has to know.”
“Well, that,” her father said pointedly, “is a bigger relief. Best news I’ve heard in a while.”
She drew in her breath and stepped closer to him. “I’m really sorry, again, Dad, that I had to put you in that position. But at least it’s over now, and we can just sort of…pretend it never happened.”
He nodded, still looking troubled, uncertain, and it reminded her how much harder on him keeping such a secret had been than it had on her. He was a lawman, and she’d made him do something that went against his values, his very nature.
“And thank you again for…well, you know.”
Another nod from her father, although she wished things felt more comfortable between them. She’d hoped the news about Wayne would make him relax. Maybe bringing Mick up so soon had been a mistake—but she just wanted to handle her life honestly. She was so tired of trying to please other people.
After that, they struggled to make small talk—about her lunch with the girls later today, about school starting soon. Although he appeared happy when she said she was probably going to take the job at the high school and stay in town. How happy he’d be when he found out Mick was most likely sticking around, too, was another story, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. She’d had enough drama surrounding their relationship already and hadn’t particularly been prepared for more this morning.
So it felt almost like a reprieve when he said, “I’d best be takin’ off.”
“Okay. Happy police chiefing,” she said, trying for some lightness. “Maybe we can…have lunch soon.”
He nodded again, but this time didn’t smile. “That’d be nice.”
And she didn’t quite believe him.
Mick had watered the flowers on Wayne’s grave and spent a little time sitting on the ground next to the wooden cross there, thinking about his brother, about their past, about his future. He wasn’t a guy who believed in talking to dead people, but something about resting there in the morning shade had helped him start sorting things out.
The truth was, he didn’t know if he could live a happy life in Destiny. The further truth was, he couldn’t quite fathom some of the stuff he’d said to Jenny over the past couple of days. He’d heard the words leave his mouth—all this talk about being together, staying together—but it hadn’t sounded like him.
The most surprising part, though, was that he’d meant all of it. Every single word.
Even if, deep down inside, he wasn’t sure about a lot of things. All this had happened so damn quick. He knew he loved her—that
part wasn’t in question—but as he sat there beside his brother’s resting place, the rich dirt slowly beginning to settle beneath the flowers planted there, he couldn’t help asking himself: Was Jenny really ready for this? It was easy to forget sometimes that she’d just gotten divorced. As well as other things he’d come to know about her as they’d grown closer, too—like that Terrence had taken her virginity, and that made Mick only the second guy she’d ever had sex with.
In one way, that made him feel really special…and important. But in another way, he had to wonder: Was this one of those rebound things for her? Could a girl like Jenny really love him—Mick Brody—the way she said, the way she thought? Maybe it would all pass for her when the summer ended. Maybe he was just a Band-Aid on her heart right now.
But hell—what it came down to was that his worry didn’t really change anything. Because for the first time in his life, he’d fallen in love. And he suddenly understood what a strange affliction it was—it made him happy and sad at the same time. He wasn’t sure he liked suddenly feeling tied to someone—it was a little unsettling, and it was clearly going to make him do things he normally wouldn’t. Yet despite all that, he couldn’t imagine walking away.
So if Jenny wanted to stay here, he would try. And if Jenny wanted to love him, he would let her. She’d given him so much—he didn’t want to be without her now. Life would feel empty.
And maybe his life had been kind of empty before her, but to go back to that after having her would be, well…hard, plain and simple. And maybe he’d rather take a chance here than be without her there.
Besides, when he looked at his life in Cincinnati, what did he really have to go back to, besides a place that had grown familiar to him. He wasn’t the most open person in the world, so he didn’t have a lot of friends—a few guys he didn’t mind meeting for a beer or a ballgame, but that was about it. Jenny had people here, people who loved her, and it seemed selfish to try to tear her away from that.
So, for her, I’ll try. I’ll trust. I’ll…open myself. I’ll…be this guy I’ve never been before and don’t even know how to be—this goofy “in love” guy, this guy who takes care of his woman, this guy who gives more than he takes. He found himself looking at the cross again as the words went through his mind. But that didn’t mean he was talking to dead people.
After that, he did what he’d told her—he started cleaning up crap that had been left behind and neglected for years. He wasn’t sure why it suddenly mattered to him since the place was going to be abandoned again soon, but maybe it had to do with Wayne’s grave. He just didn’t want a bunch of garbage around the place.
It was as he tossed a couple of trash bags into the bed of his truck that he heard something and looked up to see a police cruiser rambling up the road toward him. A goddamn police cruiser. Despite the heat of the day, his blood ran cold.
Son of a bitch. Son. Of. A. Bitch. What the fuck was this about?
His thoughts raced. Could he still go to jail for what he’d done? Was a fresh grave behind the old house of an escaped convict enough proof? Or—or would they do something awful like dig up Wayne’s body to find out for sure? And was it going to be Chief Tolliver in that car or someone else?
Years ago, his first instinct at the sight of a cop car was to run. But he couldn’t see that running right now would do much good—except to maybe make him look guilty of something. His heart hammered against his ribs, but he tried to take deep breaths and think how to deal with this.
Don’t lose your cool, man. Just stand your ground. Play this smart. As smart as possible, anyway, under the circumstances. Shit, he wished Wayne’s grave were less fresh, or that he’d dug it deeper in the woods, not right in the family cemetery. But it had made sense—and the truth was, by the time he’d started digging, he’d pretty much come to believe no one was ever going to find him back here. How had they found him now? Had someone seen him coming and going across the lake the last few days in the daylight, damn it?
As the police car pulled up nose to nose with his truck, which he’d backed up toward the house, Mick just kept tossing garbage bags, like nothing was wrong. In his heart, nothing was wrong. He’d done nothing here he considered a crime. But as Jenny’s father stepped out of the car, Mick braced for the worst.
“Mick Brody,” Tolliver said, his very tone disdainful—and unsurprised.
Mick stopped what he was doing and tried to stand a little taller than normal, tried to look just a little intimidating. “Chief Tolliver,” he said in a similar timbre, not pretending he didn’t know the man.
“Brody, I’ll cut straight to it. I know what you’re doing here—I know the whole damn story.”
Shit. Mick’s stomach sank. Still, he tried to act tough, crossing his arms across his chest, staring down his nose at the slightly smaller man—a gut reaction. “Yeah? What is it you think you know?”
Unfortunately, Tolliver didn’t look the least bit worried. In fact, he looked downright cocky. “That your brother escaped from prison and came here to die.”
Aw, Christ. Damn it to hell. Mick held his tongue—for perhaps a second too long—before saying, “Have a look around—you won’t find anyone but me.”
“I know that,” the police chief shot back. “I know he died a few days ago. I know all about you and my daughter, too.”
Mick said nothing in response to that, only shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Mainly because he was stunned. To the point of being light-headed—all the blood had drained from his brain. It was one thing for Tolliver to have somehow figured out about Wayne, but another to know Mick had been messing around with Jenny. Again, he thought of rowing across the lake in daylight—but the man knew a lot more than he could’ve figured out just from seeing Mick in a boat.
Tolliver went on, raising his voice. “Now listen to me, Brody, and listen damn good. I let all this slide—I let you stay out here harboring a wanted man, I gave you time to let him meet his maker. And I’m still gonna let it slide, even against my better judgment. But now it’s time you clear out and not come back. Time for you to stay the hell away from my daughter, once and for all.”
Mick took it all in, the threat, the knowledge Tolliver had, the surprising fact that he had indeed waited until now to come out here. But he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it all—it was a little too much when he hadn’t been expecting it. There was mainly one thing he wanted to know. “You mind if I ask just how you got your information?”
“Jenny told me,” Tolliver said.
And Mick’s heart lurched in his chest as his stomach went hollow. He realized he’d started shaking his head. “No,” he said simply. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“She did. How else would I know?”
God damn. Now Mick’s heart physically hurt, felt like it was imploding upon itself. Could Tolliver be telling the truth? Mick couldn’t believe it, but…shit, what he’d said made sense. How else would he know?
Mick sucked in his breath as anger slowly began to gather inside him, replacing the shock there. “How long?” he bit off. “How long have you known about this?”
“’Bout since the Fourth of July,” Tolliver said. “You got any other questions? ’Cause if you don’t, you best get packin’. I want you out of town by the end of the day, and I don’t want to see your face here again—ever. Am I makin’ myself clear?”
Mick met the man’s gaze through angry eyes. “Crystal.”
He stood in the same place without moving until Jenny’s father got back in his car, turned it around between some trees, and drove back down the rutty road, leaving a pale cloud of dirt to float behind the cruiser as he got farther away. He held on to the side of the truck as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened.
Jenny had told her father? About him and Wayne? Being here? She’d told him weeks ago? Fucking weeks? He didn’t want to believe it, but Tolliver had known too much, been too sure, too downright confident.
He’d trusted her. He�
��d fucking believed in her. In everything about her. He’d thought she was…perfect. Perfect enough to trust, perfect enough to love. And even if he’d had some worries over her flying into this fresh on the heels of her divorce—Jesus, that was a hell of a lot different than her willingly betraying him!
It didn’t even really matter why Jenny had told her dad—guilt or being a daddy’s girl or whatever half-ass reason, she’d put him at risk. Him and Wayne. She’d risked his freedom. She’d risked Wayne’s prospect of having a peaceful death, free of steel bars and strangers. She’d risked every-fucking-thing that had mattered to him this summer.
And she’d never breathed a word about it.
If she’d told her father out of guilt—hell, couldn’t she have at least warned Mick? Made him aware? Given him a chance to decide what to do, consider if he and Wayne should try to leave, or hide? Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
God damn her!
God damn her for fucking with his life.
God damn her for…fucking with his heart.
But hadn’t he just been telling himself the hard truth he’d not quite wanted to believe? That Jenny couldn’t love him that much, enough, so soon after her divorce? Hadn’t he just been running all those doubts through his mind—how fast this had happened, how unsure he was about things. Shit—apparently he should have listened to himself. Apparently he’d had a lot more to worry about than Jenny being ready for a new relationship. But the not-loving-him-enough part—hell, he’d hit that one right on the nose.
When did you get so weak, Brody? So weak that you actually thought you could depend on somebody, open yourself up like this? It was because of Wayne, he knew—because watching his brother deteriorate had been the hardest thing he’d ever endured.