Teague

by Juliana Stone

  She stared down at her daughter for so long that Harry yanked on her arm and asked her if she was okay.

  “I’m good sweetie,” she said, rumpling his hair before glancing up at Teague. “I’m going to change for dinner, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She flashed them all a quick smile and retreated to the back of the cottage. She needed some space, a few minutes to herself. Her clothes were in the spare room but the dress Morgan was talking about, well, that particular dress was in her bedroom.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood in front of the door but eventually she opened it. The hinges creaked a little and she winced, slipping inside before she could change her mind.

  It looked the same as it had the other day when she’d peeked inside and as she gazed around the room, she felt nothing but shame. How could she dishonor the life she’d shared with Brent by neglecting their things?

  She walked over to Brent’s side of the bed and picked up the picture that sat on his night table. It was a candid shot of Sabrina, taken when they’d been in New York City before the twins were born. They’d been in Central Park amid all the glorious fall colors and a passing clown had made her laugh.

  She held the photo close and closed her eyes, smiling at the memory. It was bittersweet. Painful. Lovely.

  After a few moments she put the photo back on the table and walked over to the closet. She touched one of Brent’s suits, spied his old Bruins ball cap on the shelf and then she pulled out the blue dress.

  The skirt was full and fell from an empire waistline, while the halter top showed off her shoulders and most of her back. It was feminine and sexy and it was time to wear it again.

  Sabrina quickly changed. She took some time to put on lip gloss and then added a bit of smoky shadow to her eyes. She found a pair of white shoes in her closet and after one more look around the bedroom, she left and headed back to the main room of the cottage.

  “Mommy,” Morgan squealed. “You look beautiful.” Her daughter flew into her arms, with Harry following suit, and when she glanced up, the look in Teague’s eyes got her blood heated.

  “I’m going to have to agree with Morgan. You look…” His eyes moved over her slowly. “You look amazing.”

  “You do too,” she said.

  “I’m hungry, and have rumbling in my tummy,” Harry piped in. “Can we eat now?”

  They sat down and ate a lovely meal. Sure, Morgan turned her nose up at the fresh green beans and Harry thought that Sabrina couldn’t see him hiding his vegetables under his plate. There were scalloped potatoes and salad as well as grilled fish that the boys had caught the day before.

  The dessert, a carrot cake that Morgan had helped Sabrina make, was moist and delicious. After the table was cleared they moved to the living room so that the kids could opened their presents. From their mother they got the usual. Clothes. Toys. Books. But Teague had bought Harry his own fishing pole and for Morgan a basket of nail polish in ever color imaginable. The kids were animated, more than a little hyper, and when Morgan and Harry brought out homemade goodbye cards they’d made, Sabrina almost lost it.

  But she kept a smile pasted to her face and by the time she got the kids tucked into bed, her cheek muscles ached and she was emotionally drained.

  She closed their bedroom door and was immediately enfolded into two strong arms that belonged wrapped around her, not halfway across the world.

  “Hey,” Teague whispered into her hair. “Come with me.”

  His hand found hers and he led her outside into the cool night air. Sabrina leaned back against him, her body finally relaxing when his arms slid around her from behind to hold her close.

  “That was nice,” he said. “Dinner.”

  “It was.”

  Her eyes were on the stars and she kind of lost herself in them because when he spoke again, she jumped.

  “I want you to know that I’ll be looking at those same stars every night and thinking of you. Tell me you’ll look at them and remember this last week.”

  A lump formed in her throat and she couldn’t hold in the moan that erupted from inside her. Teague immediately turned her around and she had nowhere to look but up at his face.

  “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Leaving you and the kids. You need to know that, Bree.”

  She nodded but remained silent.

  “I’ll be back. I promise, I’ll be back.”

  “When?”

  “I could lie…”

  “Don’t.”

  “I can’t be sure.”

  She had to take a moment. And then she took another.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Teague. I hope you find some kind of peace and I hope the faces that haunt you are finally put to rest.”

  He exhaled.

  She shuddered.

  And then his mouth was on hers with a fury. Teague kissed her like a man who was dying and when he finally dragged his mouth away, she couldn’t stop the tears from creeping into her eyes. This was not the way she wanted this night to end and she shook her head, looking away from him.

  “I wish we had more time.”

  “So do I,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go.”

  His flight was an early one and he was meeting with Bowen beforehand to discuss their agenda. She knew this.

  “I’ve got something for you.” Teague led her back into the house and retrieved a large envelope she’d not noticed before. “Open it after I leave, okay?” He grabbed her close, his hands in her hair.

  “Be safe,” she whispered.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then he was gone.

  Sabrina held the envelope close to her chest. She heard the engine of his truck rev and she listened intently until the rumble was swallowed by the night and the forest.

  And then there was nothing.

  Eventually she got her feet to move and she shut off all the lights in the cottage. She locked her doors and then headed for the sofa, but at the last minute she swerved to the right and seconds later found herself back in her bedroom.

  The stars shone in from the window and she walked over to it and yanked it open to let in some fresh air. Carefully she set down the envelope that Teague had left for her. She would open it. Just not tonight. Tonight she was done.

  She slipped the dress off and let it fall at her feet, kicking off her shoes at the same time. She glanced around the room one more time and then climbed into bed. Her bed.

  She listened to the silence of her home, happy in the knowledge that her kids were sleeping in the next room. Happy that they were healthy and alive and safe. Happy that Teague Simon had come into their lives, however briefly it had been.

  She snuggled into the blankets, not caring that they smelled old and musty. The mattress was soft, the breeze off the water amazing and she gazed up through the window at the stars, wondering what they looked like on the other side of the world.

  She stared at them until her lids got heavy and eventually she drifted off to sleep right there in a bed she’d abandoned for over a year. It was time for her to move on. Even if moving on meant that she’d be alone.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Teague was in Syria for exactly three weeks. The conditions were dangerous and there were more than a few close calls, but in the end he and Bowen were able to confirm that Dallas had been killed in the initial assault. There was closure for Dallas’ family and that meant a lot to Teague.

  He had every intention of returning stateside and then heading up north. Hell, it was all he could think about, but then a leading British publication contacted him about a related story to his piece on the child porn ring. It was a gig he couldn’t refuse. There were new leads on one particular girl he’d been trying to help identify—a child who’d been abused for years and whose pictures were the most heavily shared images to date—and before he knew it, he was off to Europe with Bowen along for the ride, deeply immersed in the seedy underbelly of child
pornography.

  If he’d forgotten just how dark and evil the world was, he was baptized into it again right off the bat. And even though the light that Sabrina had brought to him was still there, he knew it was diminishing and for the first time in his adult life, his work didn’t help calm him.

  Things were out of sync. He was out of sync.

  He’d talked to Sabrina once, just after he’d left Syria. She was busy with the kids and didn’t have long to chat. She asked him if he was coming back now that he had his answers, and he hoped that she understood when he’d said that he couldn’t. At least not yet.

  She’d been silent for a few seconds and then they’d made small talk. She told him that Harry and Morgan were trying out for a rep hockey team. That she’d decided to move to Gravenhurst and leave the city.

  He told her that his brother Beau and wife Betty were about to give birth to their first child. Already over-due the world was waiting with bated breath. Not that he’d be there to see the kid, but it was news and it made him feel as if he had something to share that was good and wholesome. Something untouched by the darkness he’d been living in for weeks.

  She wished him well. Told him to be safe. He told her to tell the kids that he said hello. And that was that. He called Sabrina again from Paris but got her voicemail. He left a message which she returned, but he didn’t get the call in time.

  Since then, his brother Beau had welcomed a baby boy and at the moment little Trent Simon and his famous parents were the most photographed family in the world. William and Kate and their brood had nothing on the so-called Southern Kennedys and their new prince. The media frenzy in the states was so crazy that it was the main reason Beau and Betty headed up to the Simon cottage to host the little guy’s baptism.

  And wonder of all wonders, Teague was finally back on American soil to enjoy it. He’d flown into JFK an hour earlier and was on his way to meet Tucker and Abby for dinner at her family bar, and then the three of them had an afternoon flight the next day to Canada where the Simon clan was gathered.

  Teague tipped his driver and hoisted his equipment over his shoulder before entering The Black Dog. It was a Thursday night and the place was hopping. He slid up to the bar and grinned at the sight that greeted him. His brother’s tie was stained, his dress shirt wrinkled, and his hand was covered in beer foam.

  “Since when do you bartend?”

  Tucker glanced up from pouring a large draft. “Son-of-a-bitch. You’re early. Thought you wouldn’t get here for another two hours.”

  “I see that.” Teague lifted his chin. “Pour me one, will ya?”

  Abby Mathews slid up behind her fiancé and planted a kiss on the side of his neck. She glanced over and squealed. “Teague!” She paused. “You look like shit.”

  He had to agree with her. “Nothing a pint of Guinness won’t cure.”

  “Here, let me do that,” she said, pushing Tucker out of the way. She grabbed a large mug and filled it expertly, before sliding it across the bar to Teague.

  He took a long drink. Damn but he needed this.

  “We’ll be with you in a bit,” Abby said. “My brother Mitch has two servers running late, so Tucker volunteered us to help out.”

  Teague’s eyebrows lifted. “How’s that going?”

  Tucker laughed. “About as good as you’d imagine.” He nodded behind Teague. “We’ve got a table in the corner if you want to stow your gear.”

  Someone elbowed him and that pretty much made up his mind. Teague grabbed his draft. “I’ll see you over there.”

  He wove his way through several large groups of people, catching half conversations filled with excited chatter about hookups, the Rangers, and the Yankees hopes for another pennant. He avoided a few pointed glances and more than a few aggressive women, before settling his ass in the booth and stowing his gear.

  Without thinking, he pulled out his cell phone, doing the same thing he did multiple times, every day.

  There was no call. No text message. No Sabrina.

  Teague stared down at the phone, trying to clamp down the anger that pulsed inside him. Had he screwed up this bad?

  “You okay?”

  He shrugged as his brother slid into the booth across from him, and accepted another pint. “About as okay as I get.”

  “You look like shit,” Tucker said.

  “So your woman says.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  He shook his head and made a dent in the mug of Guinness. “Nah. A couple days of R&R should help.” He always gave the same answer because it was easier to lie. Truth was, everything about right now felt off. He’d just got home, for Christ sake, and yet he was as restless as ever.

  All he could think about was…

  “Have you talked to Sabrina at all?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

  Tucker set his mug on the table and sank back into the seat. His eyes were thoughtful as he gazed across the table at his brother.

  “I haven’t spoken to her myself, but Mom mentioned her the other day.”

  “Mom?” Surprised, Teague sat up a bit higher.

  Tucker nodded. “Yeah. She’s getting ready to sell the cottage or something. Apparently she’s living in town now and can’t keep two places running.”

  “She loves that place. Hell, Harry and Morgan love it more than she does.” Frowning, Teague glanced at his phone again.

  “Well, she’s a single mom and I can’t imagine how tough it would be to keep one place going, let alone two.”

  “I guess.” But the thought of strangers in that house, living in the rooms that belonged to Sabrina and the kids, didn’t sit right with Teague and he scowled at the thought.

  “Are you going to tell me what exactly happened between the two of you?”

  He didn’t feel like discussing any part of his personal life with anyone, and that included Tucker.

  “What did Jack tell you?” he asked instead.

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  “Then why the hell are you asking?”

  “Because you’ve never come back from a trip before and asked about a woman. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time that you had a girlfriend. And I’m not talking about some woman you bang whenever you’re home. I’m talking about a relationship. A real relationship.”

  “Sabrina and I…” God damn, but it pissed him off to say the words out loud. To know how close he’d come to some sort of heaven with a woman he hadn’t realized he needed until he lost her.

  “Sabrina and I aren’t together, if that’s what you’re getting at. Hell, I’ve been gone for almost two months.”

  “But you want to be together.”

  Damn right.

  “No,” he said quickly.

  “You’ve always been a shitty liar.”

  “Fuck you, Tucker.”

  “Remember the time when we took Dad’s new boat out and then scraped the shit out of the side of it as we docked? Remember that?”

  Teague scowled. “What about it?”

  “Remember that Jack and Beau took it out too?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “All you had to do was follow the script. Play dumb and we would have been home free. Dad caught them with the boat, not us. But as soon as you opened your mouth, everything went to shit. You all but confessed and we spent the rest of the summer grounded from watersports. All because you never perfected the art of lying.”

  “Some people might appreciate that trait.”

  “I’m sure they do. Just not your eleven-year-old twin.”

  “You got a point to this story?”

  “My point is that right now you’re bullshitting me and you’re bullshitting yourself. You want this woman. Sabrina means something to you. Hell, if I’m reading this right, she means more to you than you’ve even realized. I think you might be in love with her.”

  “Love?” Teague sputtered. What the hell? “Have you been hitting the Guinness tap all day?”

  Tucker’s eyes
narrowed.

  “I had lunch with Larry McEwen a few days ago.”

  “Tucker, you’re all over the place. Who the hell is Larry McEwen and why should I care to hear his story?”

  “Larry McEwen is a hot prospect for the Rangers. He’s six foot five, shoots right and has a wicked wrist shot. He’s not afraid of the corners and can hold his own against any enforcer in the NHL. He’s my newest client.”

  Okay. Tucker had always managed to be the one guy who could get under his skin without even trying. And right, now Teague was envisioning a lunge across the table so that he could shake the story out of his brother.

  “Sounds like a gem,” Teague replied, regaining some of his composure. “And I should care, why?”

  “His step-father works in television.”

  “Are you going somewhere with this, Tucker?”

  “Apparently his step-father is a producer by the name of Max Holt.”

  A muscle worked its way along Teague’s jaw. Great. This news was going to break before he wanted it to.

  “And?”

  “And apparently the word on the street is that he’s offered you a gig to help produce and bring to life a news show that would air once a week and cover political and world issues. Real stripped down and gritty, from what I heard.”

  “What of it?” Teague snapped, finishing his beer and slamming the mug down onto the table. He had no idea why he was angry, but he was. Holy hell was he. If his brother didn’t watch it, there would be entertainment in The Black Dog tonight—entertainment of the fighting kind.

  “Are you considering it?” Tucker asked.

  Teague stared into his empty beer. He let the sounds of the bar soothe him—funny how noise could quiet his head—and then with a sigh, he pushed the mug away. “I might be.”

  “So I was right.” Tucker’s grin made Teague want to smash his fist and ruin that pretty face. “The fact that you’re considering a gig that keeps you here and out of danger tells me something.”

  “Oh yeah? What would that be?”

  “You’ve finally found the one thing that you’ve been searching for your entire life and it’s not a story or some Seal mission that could get your ass blown off. It’s a woman and she’s up north and probably pissed that you’ve been gone for months.”