by Jillian Hart
But she didn’t feel the same. She walked away without a backward glance, her focus on Jake. Wyatt couldn’t fight the feeling there was no place for him in her life.
And there might never be.
* * *
The last time Mariah had been as scared was nearly fifteen years ago. Searching through Jake’s athletic bag for his iPod, she did her best not to remember, but the images came anyway. Of Jasper in a rage, of Jasper knocking a toddling Jake to the floor and the thud of his little head on the corner of the table leg. Jake had been fine—just a bruise and tears—but that had been the breaking point for her. The moment when she’d seen clearly.
Just like today. Seeing Wyatt kneeling beside her son, taking charge…
“Mom? Do I gotta stay?” Already Jake looked bored, propped in his temporary bed in the emergency room.
“Yes, until the doctor gives you the okay to leave.”
“How long will that be?”
“I don’t know. They have a few more tests to run.”
“What about the tournament?”
“I guess you’ll just have to be the reigning champion next year.” She grabbed the iPod and handed it over. “This should help stave off the boredom for a while. If all goes well, you can go home soon. Just keep that in mind.”
“I’m still bummed.” Jake plugged in his earbuds and with a disappointed sigh turned his attention to the screen, searching for something to interest him. “Hey, what about Wyatt? He was really cool today, right? Coming to help me like that.”
“Totally cool.” She would not soon forget the image of the man comforting her son, taking charge. The warmth in her heart remained, growing stronger every time she thought of him.
There was only one solution. Try to stop thinking of him.
“He was awesome, just like a dad.” The longing in Jake’s voice for a father wasn’t as hidden as he might think. “Not that I’m hinting or anything. It’s just an observation. I really like him, Mom.”
“I know. He’s a good man.”
“You really like him, too, right?”
“I’m pleading the fifth.” She tugged her phone from her handbag. “I’d like to call him. I’m sure he’s wondering about you.”
“I kind of hoped he’d come along.”
“Family only, kiddo.” She headed for the door. “Is it okay if I step out for a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Already Jake was immersed in a game. His hair was tousled, tumbling over his forehead the way it used to when he was little. So, so grateful he was going to be fine, she stepped into the hallway and headed to the waiting area, already dialing Wyatt’s number.
“Mariah.” He materialized before her, still in his basketball clothes, his hair disheveled as if he’d been raking his hands through it. Worry creased his face in deep lines. “How is Jake?”
“Better. He’s well enough to complain about missing the rest of the tournament. They put him on some medication. It was a heart arrhythmia.”
“That’s a relief.” Wyatt felt tension seep out of him, and he passed a hand across his face, suddenly weary. “I kept imagining the worst. That heart condition I’d heard about in the news. I did some research on my phone while I was waiting. It has a grim prognosis.”
“I’m sorry, I should have called you sooner.” She gazed at him apologetically. “I was so busy with Jake. There were tests and paperwork to deal with.”
“You were right where you needed to be. With your son.” He covered her hand with both of his, grateful the boy was fine. That Jake would be back on the court soon and able to go on with his life. That was what mattered. Wyatt just wished she would let him in. “When I saw him struggling to breathe, something clicked in my brain. I took over without thinking. I just—“
“Wyatt?” She stopped him gently. “It’s okay. Thank you. In that moment I knew that whatever Jake needed—anything he needed—you could have handled it.”
“I would have done my best.”
“You have no idea what that means to me.” In that moment, she’d never trusted anyone more. She tried to picture Jasper being so self-controlled and giving. Couldn’t do it. “Jake and I really leaned on you today.”
“Glad I was there.” He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. As if his affection for her wasn’t taking over. So bright and unstoppable, it was all he could feel.
“What about you? Have you been here this whole time?” she asked.
“Yep. I had nothing better to do.”
“What about the tournament?”
“I couldn’t play, worrying about Jake, so Bill switched my match until tomorrow morning.” So much Wyatt wanted to say stayed locked up in him. All it took was one look at Mariah to know she wouldn’t want to hear it. He was afraid that feared admitting his feelings for her would drive her away. “Will Jake be able to go home soon?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Good. Is there anything I can do for you? Fetch you some lunch? Run errands? Anything?” He waited, his heart on the line, wondering if she could hear what he meant and couldn’t say. Let me be a part of your life. Let me show you I’m a man you can trust. He could read the caring in her eyes. He’d always been able to see inside her.
“No, but thank you. I have everything I need.” Her words came kindly, softly. “But I’m sure Jake would like to see you, if you want to go back. If you stay with him for a few moments, I can catch up on some calls. Now that he’s all right, I should check in with Sunni and Bill and make sure everything’s okay with the tournament.”
“You take all the time you need.”
“Thanks.” She should head for the door, but her feet wouldn’t move. Maybe because she could see the wish in his blue eyes, the unspoken question that lingered in the air between them. His caring gaze, his gentle tone, the stalwart way he’d stepped in earlier on the court and now, ready to help with whatever she needed… He was a good, capable man.
Nothing scared her more. She swallowed hard, wishing she could let down those hard-earned defenses, wishing she could give Wyatt what he seemed to need. Torn over what to do about it, she gave him directions on how to find Jake, then forced her feet forward, clutching her phone. When she looked over her shoulder, Wyatt stood watching her. If only she didn’t care so much.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, Hobart.” Jake’s voice softened as he knelt, hands out, to welcome the dog who met him at the door. “Did you have a good day, buddy? You’re such a good boy.”
The dog’s tongue lolled as he panted happily. Wise chocolate eyes studied Jake lovingly as they all stepped into the entryway of Mariah’s home. Wyatt’s chest tightened with a pain he couldn’t handle. He swallowed hard, forcing it down, remembering another boy and another dog.
“We got Hobart from the animal shelter for my fifth birthday. The best present ever, right, boy?”
The dog’s tail thumped happily against the tile.
“All right, upstairs. Doctor’s orders.” Mariah led the way through the last of the afternoon sunshine tumbling through the living room windows. Her upscale house was comfortable and lovely. Little touches were everywhere—bits of lace, framed pictures, a crocheted afghan on the back of the couch. It was cozy. A real home.
“Do I have to stay in bed?” Jake tromped up the stairs behind his mom.
“Doctor’s orders.”
“Then can Wyatt at least stay for dinner?” the teen’s voice echoed in the stairwell. “I mean, he has to eat sometime, right? And you know I need good male role models in my life. You don’t want to get in the way of my personal growth, do you?”
“It’s tempting,” she retorted wryly, her voice echoing in the upstairs hallway.
A friendly “ruff” sounded by Wyatt’s knee. Hobart sat politely, tail swishing.
“Hi, boy. It’s nice to meet you.” He stroked the dog’s rounded head, his heart softening. Sebastian’s dog, Poppy, lived with Delanie. Wyatt missed having a dog. “What a good boy. Where’s Jake?”
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At the boy’s name, big brown eyes flashed happily. With another “ruff!” the dog took off up the stairs.
“Hey, I think he’ll stay quiet,” Mariah announced when she came back down. “I guess we’ll see. That boy. It’s too late to return him.”
“I like Jake.” Wyatt followed her to the back of the house, where a family room met a spacious kitchen and eating area. He was glad he’d showered and changed at the community center. “He’s a good kid. I have a hard time saying no to him.”
“I know the feeling.” She opened the fridge and plunked a plate of thawed hamburger on the counter. “So, you’re staying for dinner?”
“If it wouldn’t be a hardship.”
“I wasn’t planning anything fancy. Just spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Sounds fine to me. You might as well put me to work.”
“Really? You do kitchen work?”
“And I’m not too bad at it.”
“I guess we’ll see about that. There’s a loaf of French bread in the bread keeper.” She measured out dried parsley into her palm. “You can cut it into one-inch slices and butter it.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
The warmth of his smile left Mariah breathless. Just concentrate on dinner, not the man. She plunked a frying pan on the stove, resisting the tractor beam of Wyatt’s presence an arm’s length away. What was she going to do about these feelings?
“Hey, you did keep our picture. Wasn’t that our first date?”
“How would you remember that?”
“How could I forget?” He soaped up at the sink, studying the old picture Jake had left on the sill.
She leaned in to get a good look. In it, Wyatt was classically handsome in his T-shirt and jeans, and young.
So young. Just like the girl smiling adoringly up at him, unaware that her mom had snapped the picture.
“I was nervous,” he confessed. “I wanted everything to go just right. I couldn’t believe you’d agreed to go out with me.”
“I couldn’t believe you’d asked me.” It was the same way she felt now, a little breathless, afraid and weightless, as if she had been swept off her feet. I can’t be falling in love with him again, she thought. I just can’t.
“I like this picture here.” He gestured toward the other frame sitting on her windowsill. A younger Jake with two front teeth missing, his brown hair windblown, standing in front of a Yellowstone National Park sign with both arms hugging Hobart. “I have one just like it, of my son and his dog. We vacationed there too.”
“Your son?”
“I buried Sebastian two years ago.” The confession seemed to be torn out of him, his voice raw and cracking. “He was ten when the cancer finally won.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mariah couldn’t imagine… Her heart stopped. No, she couldn’t envision that kind of loss.
“For the three years he was sick, our lives—his, mine and Delanie’s—were focused on getting him well. Everything we did, everything.” Mourning was etched deeply in the contours of his face. “When he was gone, neither of us could handle it. Delanie couldn’t look at me without remembering. And I…I buried myself in my work. There was too much grief when we were together. Too little hope. I tried my best and so did she, but we couldn’t find our way out together. We couldn’t make our marriage work.”
“That’s why you moved here. Those things you said…”
“About starting fresh, and turning over a new leaf?” He nodded, his fingers finding hers as if with need. “I didn’t know who I was anymore when I wasn’t a dad.”
“Something tells me you were an excellent father.” She meant every word.
“Thanks.” That muscle worked in his jaw. “You have no idea what that means.”
Never had Wyatt looked more handsome than with his heart exposed. He swallowed hard, as if gathering his self-control before he continued. “On his last day, when there was nothing we could do and I was inconsolable, he made me promise to live. To keep going as if he were right there with me, to live life with all my heart. I tell you, it’s been a long hard struggle, but I think I’m almost there. I’m finally keeping my promise to him. I hope he would be happy with me.”
“I’m sure he would be.” She thought of the checks Wyatt had written to Mary’s Place, and the land donation. It all made sense. He was honoring not only his son’s memory, but the love the boy had given him.
Her heart gave a painful twist. Maybe it was empathy for his loss, she told herself, nothing more. But she didn’t believe that.
A loud bang sounded next door, echoing through the house. Mariah tensed. A man’s angry curses rang out, a door slammed shut with another bang, and a woman’s muffled cries tore at Mariah’s sympathies.
“What’s going on?” Wyatt asked in concern.
“Neighbor trouble. It’s bad timing and I’m sorry.” Ignoring the tight, cold lash of memories, she snagged the cordless phone on her way past the counter. “I’ll be back.”
“I’m coming, too.”
“No, it would be better if I go alone. The neighbor has had problems before.” She stopped at the sliding door, taking one last look at him. I wish…she thought, before stepping out into the night. She wished she had what it took to trust a man again.
She pushed open the gate and stepped into the side yard. “Lyn? Are you okay?”
“Mariah, it’s cold. You shouldn’t be out here.”
“I’m more concerned about you.” She followed the shadows to where the slender woman sat on the bottom step, hurrying to swipe away tears. The faint light from her family room window added just enough illumination for Mariah to see the darkening bruise under her left eye. Poor Lyn. “You look as if you need a friend.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” The smile she tried to put on looked convincing.
“I heard yelling.”
“Roland’s having another difficult day.”
“So are you. Your lip is bleeding.”
“Oh.” Lyn dug in her jeans pocket for a tissue and dabbed at her swollen bottom lip. “Please don’t start. We’ve had this talk before.”
“Yes, but he’s hurting you. No one deserves to be hit.” Mariah sat down on the cement step next to her neighbor.
“Roland is a good man down deep. He isn’t always like this, but he can be…very hard to live with.”
“Maybe too hard.” Mariah remembered how it felt, wanting to hide the shame and embarrassment. She’d walked in Lyn’s shoes. It was a bind, one she knew well. Loving a man and wanting to do well for him. Wasn’t that part of a relationship? The give and take? The extra effort to make each other happy? But sometimes that went terribly wrong. “But you don’t deserve to be punished.”
“I should have started fixing something else for dinner. He’s tired of chicken. He likes things his way.”
“But what about you? I wish you would be a better friend to yourself. You deserve that. You are worth more than you know.”
“That means a lot.” Lyn bit her lip. Her chin dropped and she lowered her voice. “Sometimes I think we would be better off on our own, Emily and me, but he’d never let me go.”
“I can help you figure that out—” The door behind them jerked open and hit the inside wall with a bang. A squat, red-faced man emerged into the shadowed light.
“What are you doing?” he growled, smelling heavily of beer. “I heard what you said. Lyn isn’t going anywhere.”
“That’s up to her.” Mariah rose, phone still in her hand, with 911 a touch of a button away. “Good evening, Roland. I’m concerned about Lyn.”
“Oh, she’s fine. But you—I’ve had about enough of you.” His eyes narrowed and he fisted his hands, bristling visibly. “If you can’t keep your nose out of my business, then you and me are going to have a problem. Is that what you want?”
Footsteps sounded on the patio behind her. Wyatt stormed into sight. “No, your problem is with me. Are you all right, Mariah?”
“I’m fine.” She spla
yed her hand on Wyatt’s chest. “I don’t want to escalate his anger.”
“Fine, as long as he understands something. I won’t let him talk like that to you.” Even in the shadowy darkness, Wyatt seemed stronger than she’d ever seen him. Anger radiated from him, but it wasn’t threatening.
It was protective. She swallowed hard, trying not to let it affect her. Trying to tell herself that she didn’t see the difference…but she did. “Roland, I want to help, that’s all. I can recommend some excellent counseling programs—“
“I’m not gonna take this.” He slammed his fist against the side of the house, a foot away from Lyn, who cringed.
Time to call the police, Mariah thought, but Roland pounded down the steps and stomped the length of the garage. When he disappeared from sight, Mariah let out a pent-up breath. A truck engine roared to life. The a pickup jerked into the street, hit a garbage can and zoomed away, lurching dangerously. Mariah dialed the police to report his driving and turned to the trembling woman.
“Are you okay?” She hugged Lyn. “How about I make us some tea?”
“No, not this time. Roland’s anger is the worst it’s ever been. Maybe…” She hesitated. “I don’t like living like this. Could you—?”
“Absolutely. Let me help you pack.” Mariah looked over Lyn’s shoulder. Wyatt was hardly visible, yet she could feel his strength and his concern. If she could learn to trust anyone again, then it would be him.
So why couldn’t she?
She gave Lyn’s hand an encouraging squeeze before the woman disappeared inside. Shivering from the letdown of adrenaline and the cool night air, Mariah stepped across the grass toward him. “How about a rain check on dinner? I’ve got to phone Sunni. She’s on call tonight, and I can’t leave Jake—“
“I’ll stay with him. If you trust me to.” You can, his eyes told her.
She remembered the last man she’d trusted with her son. Memories welled up—of Jasper’s hands tight around her throat, his face puckered with anger. Jasper standing over her yelling, out of control and kicking the wall beside where she crouched, blinking through the blood streaming down her face. Jasper hauling her out of the house by her ponytail, throwing her into the snow and locking the door behind her, while baby Jake cried desperately from his crib. And worse, Jasper’s tearful apologies after.