by Sally Felt
And hordes of women in lustful pursuit.
Bob’s pulped features swam into view, utterly mindless, his teeth bared. Testosterone. She’d had quite enough of that crap. “Men suck,” she snarled. She drew back her fist and let fly. She connected with the side of Bob’s head and he dropped like a bag of wet laundry.
The sound of Bob crumpling to the roof was one of the better things she’d heard today, but it couldn’t compare with what she heard next.
The sound of approaching sirens.
Chapter Sixteen
Kim sat beside Isabelle on the shingles as the police manipulated ropes and pulleys. Isabelle was without a doubt the most amazing woman he knew. Acrophobic or not, she’d clocked Bob unconscious. The police were taking him off the roof with a rescue litter.
“You going to tell me that’s safe?” she asked, staring at the rescue operation.
“I wish I could tell you otherwise,” Kim said. “I wouldn’t mind Bob taking a few more nicks and scratches.”
Down below, Steven was already in custody. Paramedics had seen and released Kerry. That was as much as Kim had been able to get from the rescue crew, but knowing Kerry’s injuries were minor put his mind at ease.
“I wouldn’t mind if they dropped him on his head,” Isabelle said.
“Yeah.”
“Stacey is in love with him and he’s not who she thought he was, not even a little bit. It’s so unfair.” Her fists were clenched, her chin on her knees, an angry, sitting-up version of the fetal position. In spite of her fright, she was functioning. In fact she didn’t seem as frightened as before. Strong willed. A lioness. Amazing.
“She looked at him the way she wanted to look at him,” Kim said. “All he had to do was play into that.”
“I’m sure it will make her feel better when I say, ‘Oh, well, you were stupid,’” Isabelle said.
“That’s not what I’m saying, Isabelle.”
They had Bob strapped into the litter and were lowering him off the roof.
“Men suck.”
Did he say strong willed? She was certainly stronger than he was. Kim watched the police work as a piece of himself died. He’d given his all, he’d told her how he felt. Could be she still wasn’t ready for a relationship, but it felt as if she just didn’t want him. He’d had enough of that for one lifetime. He was done.
“Charlie sucks,” she added unexpectedly.
“I thought Charlie…” Kim started, then shut up. What was the point?
“Charlie cheated on Gina. Probably more than once. And I’m the one telling him how to get her back because he’s my brother and I love him and it’s so unfair.”
That was it. Another man Isabelle had trusted had been unfaithful in a relationship. All men were cheaters and liars and unless Kim decided to become Kimberly, he would forever be guilty by association.
“Kim?”
“Mm?” he asked, not sure he could handle it if she had more on the subject. He was tired. He was done.
“I don’t care if it’s safe. I don’t want to go that way.” Her voice broke his heart all over again, hoarse and frayed. Before he could think to protect himself, he put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, warm and fragile. She grabbed at his shirt. She began punching him, chest and ribs and shoulders. Not so fragile. He held her tighter. She punched him harder. Luckily, she didn’t have room to swing the way she had on Bob. He held her as she pummeled him for being a man and he looked at the roof and he tried to make his brain work in spite of the emptiness inside.
If she wouldn’t go down in the litter, how was he going to get her down the ladder? Maybe the police would lend them a climbing harness or two and he could—
“Austin,” she said, still punching him. “Why didn’t you tell me, you son of a bitch?”
“I know,” he said. “I thought of it a dozen times, but there was always something. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t do long-distance. It will destroy me. I’ll see you with pretty blondes in yoga tops, or auburn waitresses or French girls who give you cologne and venereal disease.”
Kim knew she wasn’t trying to be funny, but he couldn’t help himself, and once he started laughing, it was hard to stop. After a while, she stopped punching him, merely vibrating in his arms. Maybe she was laughing too.
He played one of her curls through his fingers, his chest aching. If she weren’t so proud, things might have been different. There would have been none of the “no dating” nonsense and confusing brush-offs and maddening misunderstandings. But then, if she weren’t so proud, she wouldn’t be Isabelle. Wouldn’t be his lioness.
“If we were long-distance, ‘Belle, I would still be with you. You alone. I love you.”
And that’s when he realized she wasn’t laughing, she was crying. Isabelle was crying. Fierce Isabelle, angry Isabelle, reduced to tears over him.
“Don’t cry,” he said, feeling desperate. “I’m not worth it. Ask Kerry. Ask anyone.”
“Shut up,” she said. “I trusted you.”
And that was the rub of it.
“I’ve no good excuse, not about Austin. I should have found a way to bring it up. Maybe even when we first talked about how much I love climbing. That’s why I’m going. Meet people, make contacts, build a business.”
He should have spoken up that morning, for sure. Once it seemed clear she’d green-lighted a relationship—or at least sex—a decent guy would have made the effort.
“Maybe I do suck,” he conceded, still holding her. “Do I get points for sucking in a new way, at least?”
She punched him again, but weakly. Her face was to his shirt, hidden from him. “New?”
“I’m a one-at-a-time guy. I once dated a plumbing client who turned out to be not quite divorced. Now that sucked. So I know what I’m about when I say, no cheating. Not ever.” Was he telling her that just in case she’d overheard Kerry bring up that painful mistake? Not entirely. He was also sticking up for his gender. And himself.
One of the police, a twenty-something blond man wearing a black ball cap with “Dallas Police” embroidered on it and a climbing harness over his uniform shorts, walked across the roof and crouched near them. “Excuse me, folks, but we need to get you off the roof. We’re ready for your statements.”
As the cop extended a hand toward Isabelle, she shrank against Kim. Getting her off the roof—getting her moving again at all—had just become the only argument that counted.
He’d told her she demanded his best. It was time to see how much better he could be.
Isabelle leaned into Kim as she stared at the cop’s extended hand. He was offering to help her up? She was already up. She was more up than she ever wanted to be again. Ever.
“Do we need to get another litter here?” the cop asked. He must have seen the panic in her eyes.
“She has her own style, Officer,” Kim said, his arm still warm around her. “Give us a minute?”
“I won’t do it,” she said when the cop had gone, hating that heights brought out the cowardly two-year-old inside her. “I can’t.”
“Have you ever been to Monahans State Park, out I-20, past Odessa? Seen those awesome dunes, like every kid’s idea of Arabian Nights? One great big sandbox?”
She nodded, wondering what he was getting at. “When Mom and Daddy Trey were first married, we all went there on the way to Big Bend.” She hadn’t thought of that in years.
“You remember how you can rent a sled at the park office?”
“One of those saucers.” A big plastic concave disc with a couple of nylon grip straps attached.
“That’s right. And you’re thinking it’s going to be fast and wild, like on snow. Only it’s not. They give you a chunk of wax to rub over it, but even so, it’s awkward sledding, right?”
She hadn’t ever sledded on snow, but she nodded anyway.
“It’s like—” he straightened his legs, leaned back and scooted down-roof on his butt. His expression dared her to follow suit
.
He was trying to get her off the roof. She agreed with being down, but part of her would prefer to just close her eyes and have it be over. Not that that was likely.
“Remember?” he prodded, nodding encouragement.
She did it before she could talk herself out of it.
“Well, okay,” he said, casting a critical eye over her as she did, “but it’s really more like—” He scooted again.
She locked gazes with him and followed.
They reached the edge. Below, an ambulance and police cars with flashing lights punctuated the chaos of human activity. Why were there so many people?
Some she recognized as her neighbors, mostly neighbors’ children, all looking up. Expecting her to fall, maybe hoping she would.
“Hey,” Kim said, squeezing her hand to get her attention. Much as she wanted to look away from the edge and the drop and the spectators held in suspense, it seemed impossible.
“Do you like to dance, Isabelle?” He squeezed her hand again.
She swallowed, finding her throat too tight to speak. Her pulse boomed in her ears. It was such a long way down. Dancing. Moving at all. It was out of the question, at least until she noticed he’d let go of her hand.
“Kim?” She looked around in a panic.
“Right here.” He was over the edge, getting on the ladder as if it was no big deal.
“Don’t leave me!” God, she hated the desperation in her voice.
“Of course I won’t. I’m just checking the ladder. It’s a lot more secure than last time you were on it.”
“Yes?”
He patted the top rung. “Like a rock. Come see.”
She scooted sideways until the ladder was in front of her feet. Her fingertips were likely bleeding, as hard as she pressed into the roof shingles, trying to hold on.
“So you never answered me about dancing,” he said, so calm and casual, as if his lip weren’t oozing blood.
She nodded because he was nodding. Following him was easier than thinking.
“Come closer, then,” he said, holding out a hand.
She inched down, knees bent until her heels were at the edge of the shingles. The gutter seemed shockingly cool by comparison as the toes of her bare foot came to rest.
The edge. From here there was nothing but air and danger and the chance these would be her last moments on earth.
“Oh god.”
“Look at me, Isabelle,” Kim said, still calm. Beyond him, the view was treetops and neighbors’ roofs. She didn’t want to look over neighbors’ roofs. “Right here,” he said, drawing an invisible circle around his face with his finger.
“You’re bleeding.” Her teeth chattered.
“You say that to all your dance partners?”
His hand was once again outstretched, waiting patiently to get her off the roof. He hadn’t told her not to be scared or even that she shouldn’t worry.
She flashed back to the night of the break-in, how he’d given her room to scream and curse—the first man in her life who hadn’t tried to contain or control her. And here he was, still giving her space to make her own decisions, even as he worked to get her out of a dangerous situation.
She looked into his beautiful ringed eyes and saw a man who had offered more than gifts or sex or fun. He had offered her partnership.
I love him.
The truth of it made her breath catch in her chest.
“Yes,” she said, reaching for his hand. She meant, Yes, I believe you. Yes, I admire you. Yes, I know you will never let me fall.
She couldn’t say any of it right now with all the empty air still between them and the safety of the ground.
His touch was almost safety enough for her. Her shivering eased and she was able to follow his simple instructions about turning around, even though she couldn’t hold his hand as she did it. He always had a hand on her—ankle, hip, shoulder—guiding her dreamlike transition to the ladder. Oh, those sandpaper fingers.
She couldn’t picture their positions on the ladder, Kim’s warmth at her back. He covered her, his body between her and the vastness of space. Their rhythmic descent might have been sex, her learning to answer his movements with her own, no words needed.
One at a time, he’d said. No cheating, he’d said.
She’d fallen for some sweet words in her time. But all along, Kim had been showing her the truth of who he was. She’d just been too closed off to let herself see.
He’d criticized his brother for needing a sure thing even if it meant passing by the chance at something amazing, but the same was true of her. She’d made a habit of avoiding anything risky. Look at her chosen business—building methodical, organized solutions for people’s homes. An inside-the-box service if ever there was one. And of course, she had very tidy five-year and ten-year plans for Space Craft.
There was no such map for her heart. Being burned by Daniel and Steven—and Daddy before them—had left her hyper-vigilant in that department. It was exhausting.
At her back, Kim shifted another rung down, his sleeves brushing against hers as he adjusted his position. Kim lived with risk daily. He was good at managing risk. Maybe some of that confidence and flexibility could rub off on her. She bent her knee, lowering herself to follow his descent, and to her surprise, her bare sole touched concrete.
“I can’t believe how brazenly you’ve been buildering, right under the cops’ noses,” Kim whispered in her ear. “You are an extraordinary woman.” He released the ladder and stepped back.
Immediately, she missed his warmth, his touch. Then sounds rushed in. Applause. Even some cheering. It seemed very loud, as if Kim had protected her from the whole world and all its chaos. And now he’d left, helping her remember he’d be leaving again, soon. For Austin.
For once having her feet on the ground didn’t seem such a good thing.
She turned to face the police and the neighbors and curious children on their bikes. But Kim was looking at her while a paramedic taped his hands and cleaned his face, an unspoken promise that they hadn’t said goodbye.
Goodbye.
He loved her.
He was leaving her anyway.
She gave her story to the police. And yes, she was pressing changes, absolutely she was pressing charges. But her heart just wasn’t in it. Her heart was in pieces, most of them on the roof.
When it was her turn to be cleaned up, the same paramedic who’d worked on Kim examined her. He earned her unladylike commentary by pouring hydrogen peroxide on her finger where she’d worn the ugliest of all rings and asked her when she’d had her last tetanus booster.
Oh. She’d forgotten where the ring had been. One cycle through a washing machine would only do so much against that kind of ick.
Aside from the tear around her finger, she was merely scuffed up. Her face. Her hands. Her feet and ankles. She smiled at the absurdity of having one shoe still clinging to her foot. Truth was, her suit was probably worse off than she was.
Truth was, she was damn lucky.
She didn’t feel lucky. She felt foolish. Hard to remember she ran a successful business when she’d recently been weeping with fear on the roof. Hard to imagine she had any sense at all.
Kim was standing with his brother and a cop wearing shorts. Kim’s lip was swollen around the split. A small butterfly bandage was white amidst the purpling splendor of his left cheekbone near his eye. His white dress shirt was smudged from rolling around on the roof. She could see little starbursts of wrinkles where she had grabbed him, punched him, cried on him while he told her he loved her.
And what had she said in return? Shut up.
She was an idiot. No wonder he was leaving.
She made herself look at Kerry. He wore no bandages, but his white shirtfront was bloodstained. The fall from the rooftop—a fall she thought would be fatal—had hardly even slowed him down. By the time the police arrived, he’d bound Steven’s hands with his belt. He was as much a hero as Kim, especially considering she’d ne
ver met the man before.
“I’m so sorry for the trouble, Mr. Glassner. I’ll pay for the cleaning, of course, and your time if you’ll let me. This has been such a disaster. I’m sorry you got mixed up in it.”
He and Kim exchanged a look she didn’t understand.
The police officer touched the brim of his ball cap and withdrew, Kim calling “thanks” after him. Isabelle would swear the cop was younger than she was. He’d arrived on a bicycle, one of the city cops who still did that in spite of the risks.
There had been lots of police here, but they’d taken Steven in a squad car and Bob in an ambulance and gone. The young blond on the bike seemed to be the last to leave. Even the neighborhood kids had taken their curiosities elsewhere. Isabelle’s yard was quiet again.
She was exhausted, scooped out, drained. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Kim here, certainly not while his didn’t-want-to-call-him brother looked on. She’d rather never say goodbye at all.
And here she was, thinking about herself again, protecting herself again—and doing it while men to whom she owed a great deal stood here, themselves dropping from exhaustion.
She might not know what to do, but the hostess within had no question. “Please come in and rest a minute,” she said. “Have something to drink.”
Kim pointed to his swollen eye. “Wouldn’t say no to another Shiner.”
She smiled and let them into the house.
Kim didn’t drink the beer, merely holding the cold bottle against his face. She fixed him an ice pack to use instead and started a pot of coffee for the three of them. Kerry excused himself to look up a tow provider…leaving her alone with Kim in the kitchen. She looked at him, injured because of her bad judgment, and ached.
“This is where I came in,” Kim said.
“What?”
“The night of your party. This is where we first started pretending.” He sounded bitter. Mostly, though, he sounded tired. She may not have been the one to bruise his face, but she’d hurt him, that was clear.