In This Town

by Beth Andrews

  Probably a good idea seeing as how their dad had told his brother he never wanted to see him again.

  “The nurses didn’t want too many people in here at once,” Nora continued, straightening the bedcovers, “and Dad figured you’d want us to be here so…” She shrugged.

  Their dad had been right. Seeing her son’s face, her sisters being there when she woke up, meant more to her than she’d ever be able to say.

  The door opened and Layne returned and stood at the end of the bed. “The EMTs didn’t have much information. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “I…” Frowning, she touched her forehead gently, felt a lump. “I was on my way home and I…I glanced down, just for a moment, to switch songs on the iPod…”

  It all came back to her with sickening clarity. She’d been returning home from Boston, had been in a hurry so she wouldn’t be late picking Brandon up from practice.

  “I looked up, took the curve too fast. When the car went off the side of the road, I…I overcorrected.” She could still taste her panic, could still feel the cold fear that had raced through her. “I spun.... God, I thought I’d never stop but then it did and the next thing I knew, the car was flying through the air and then it slammed to a stop.” Her seat belt had dug into her, the air bag had deployed but she’d been wrenched to the side, hitting her head against the door. “The next thing I remember I was on the ground and the EMTs were there.”

  “You were lucky,” Nora said, her hand on Tori’s knee. “The doctor said other than a mild concussion and some scrapes and bruises, you’re fine. He doesn’t think you have any internal injuries but he still wants to keep you here overnight for observation.”

  Tori sighed. As much as she’d like to argue, as much as she wished she could go home, the thought of moving, let alone of walking out of the room, held no appeal. She’d much rather stay right in this bed with its easy access to pain meds.

  “Thank God your air bag deployed,” Layne said, sounding shaky. Worried.

  “Hey,” Tori said softly, holding her hand out. Layne hesitated but then entwined her fingers with Tori’s. “I’m okay.”

  Layne nodded. “I know, it’s just…”

  “It was scary,” Nora finished for her.

  Tori squeezed Layne’s hand then let go. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault,” Layne said, trying to smile. “And that’s the first time I’ve ever said that.”

  Tori laughed, her breath catching at the pain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

  “Sorry,” Layne said. She cleared her throat. “What were you doing on Old Beach Road anyway?”

  Pretending to pick a piece of lint off the sheet, Tori kept her gaze averted. “I…I went into Boston. To do some shopping.”

  Not quite the truth, just not a complete lie. The truth was, Celeste’s offer of a partnership had frightened Tori so much, she’d realized she had to make some hard choices. Immediately. Starting with what she wanted to do with her life.

  What she wanted was to start a new life, just her and Brandon, in Boston.

  Brandon came in carrying a plastic container of nachos in one hand, a soda in the other.

  “So glad to see the healthy eating options here at Mystic Point General Hospital,” Tori said. “What? Didn’t they have any ice cream and jelly beans?”

  “Dad said I could get whatever I wanted,” Brandon said, looking defiant.

  And that was the kid she knew and loved.

  She sighed. “It’s fine. I’m teasing.”

  He crossed to her, sat on the other side of the bed. “What are you guys fighting about?” Brandon asked, sipping his soda.

  “Who says we were fighting?” Layne asked.

  Brandon lifted a shoulder. “You’re always fighting.”

  Tori exchanged a look with her sisters. “Well, today is one for the record books then.”

  “That’s right,” Layne said, ruffling his hair. “No fighting today.” She looked at Tori. “You okay? You need anything?”

  Tori laid her hand on her son’s back, inordinately pleased when he didn’t jerk away. “I’m good.”

  She had everything she needed right here. Her son by her side. Her sisters’ love and concern. What more could she ask for?

  “I’ll stop by in the morning, see how you are.” Layne leaned down and gave Tori a gentle hug, held on for a moment longer than necessary. Tori didn’t mind. “You need to be dropped off?” Layne asked Nora as she straightened.

  Nora shook her head but got to her feet. “Griffin’s going to get me, but thanks.” She leaned over and kissed Tori’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. Love you.”

  Tori smiled. “Love you, too.”

  “I’ll send Dad and Celeste in if you’re up for more company,” Nora said from the doorway.

  Tori glanced at her son. “Sure. But could you maybe give me five minutes first?”

  Nora nodded and left.

  “Look,” Tori said to Brandon when they were alone, “the doctor wants me to stay here for the night.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. It’s just a precaution. So you can spend the night at your dad’s. I’m sure I’ll be home by the time you get home from school tomorrow.”

  He slid her a look. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to school tomorrow. Just in case you take a turn for the worse.”

  “Well, that’s a cheery thought. And a nice ploy to get out of going to school, but no, sorry. You’ll have to suffer through another day of sixth grade just like all the other twelve-year-old schmucks.”

  He popped a chip into his mouth. “It was worth a try.”

  And then he smiled, something he did so rarely now that tears pricked her eyes. “Yeah. It was.” She cleared her throat. “Listen, I know it was scary, seeing me all banged up like this, especially before I woke up—”

  “I wasn’t scared,” he said quickly.

  “Yeah? Well, I was scared. You know that my mom left when I was your age, right?”

  Brandon nodded, sipped his soda. “You thought she left but she was really killed.”

  “She left. When I was twelve and there was nothing I could do about it. And I want you to know that I will never leave you. Not on purpose. Not ever. No matter what. Okay?”

  He studied her, his eyes, so like her own, were guarded and watchful and she hoped she hadn’t done that to him, hoped she hadn’t made him hard and cynical like she was. She wanted him to be open and caring and giving and trusting, like his father. Wanted him to be so much better than she was.

  “Okay,” he finally said. He set the empty container on the table next to the bed and picked at the faded knees of his jeans. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her heart simply swelled. “Me, too. I love you, bud.”

  “Love you, too,” he said, allowing her to hold him, his skinny arms going around her neck.

  He smelled of sweat and the laundry detergent she used. He felt solid and warm and little in her arms. Brandon was everything to her and she’d almost left him alone, almost left him without a mother.

  But she hadn’t, she reminded herself, kissing the top of his head. She was here, where she belonged. And Brandon loved her. He wasn’t mad at her anymore. Everything was going to be all right. They were going to be together. No matter what.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  HE HADN’T DROPPED everything to go and see her, to see for himself that Taylor hadn’t lied or sugarcoated how badly she was injured, Walker thought as he stalked down the quiet hospital corridor. He hadn’t called to check on her, hadn’t pestered the nursing staff or tracked down her doctor. He’d stayed at the police station, had gone through the motions of reading reports, conducting interviews. He’d worked. Done his job.

  And hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Not once.

  But it wasn’t up to him to think about Tori, to wonder if she really was okay, to worry about her. He’d headed back to his room, determined to put her out of his mind. And instead, had fo
und himself pulling into the hospital parking lot. Now he was roaming the halls like an idiot.

  The nurses had tried to stop him since it was past visiting hours so he’d flashed his badge and kept going.

  Some days he really loved being a cop.

  He found her room, saw the light from a TV flashing and went in.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Detective Bertrand. This is a surprise.”

  “For me, too,” he said, realizing it was true, that he wasn’t even sure why he was there.

  “It’s really sort of sweet of you to check up on me this way,” she said, her voice huskier than usual, those guarded eyes of her always watchful. She smiled. “Were you worried about me?”

  “Don’t,” he said gruffly, knowing he sounded irritated but, hell, he was irritated. He shouldn’t be there, had no reason to be, no right to want to check on her, to make sure she was all right.

  No right to care about her.

  Tori blinked but it was too well rehearsed to be taken as a true innocent expression. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t bother with the sexy routine. You’re not quite capable of pulling it off at the moment.”

  Her cheeks turned pink and she seemed offended, crossing her arms over the light blanket. “Who says it’s a routine?”

  “Me.”

  An act that fascinated him even as it rubbed him the wrong way. He stood at the end of the bed, his hands stuffed into his pockets. She was alive and up to her usual tricks, but she’d been hurt. She had scrapes on her neck and her face, that beautiful, entrancing face was bruised and she had a bump the size of an egg on her forehead. Her hair was brushed but it hung lankly. She seemed small and vulnerable in the bed.

  “You okay?” he asked, though she seemed to be just fine.

  “Alive and kicking.”

  “No internal injuries? Concussion?”

  She sighed. “Everything on the inside seems to be working fine and yes, I have a mild concussion. Which is why they’re making me stay here the night.” There was a clear pout in her voice.

  “Better than spending the night at the morgue.”

  “You have such a way with words, Detective. Thank you for that cheerful thought.”

  He removed his hands from his pockets but then didn’t know what to do with them. “Just laying out the facts.”

  “You cops love your facts, don’t you?”

  “I like to know what I’m dealing with,” Walker said slowly, choosing his words carefully as he met her eyes. He liked to know who he was dealing with. His ability to read people helped him catch the bad guys; his focus on his cases made him one of the best at what he did.

  He glanced around the room. She didn’t seem to want to take over the conversation and he couldn’t speak, not when his thoughts, his feelings, were all twisted up inside of him. Not when he was afraid he’d say something he’d regret, admit to something best left hidden.

  She had flowers on the wide windowsill, several bouquets, it turned out. Balloons. A few stuffed animals, though why people gave a grown woman a stuffed animal was beyond him.

  He should’ve brought flowers. Had considered it briefly as he’d passed the hospital’s gift shop window display but in the end dismissed the idea.

  He didn’t want to be among her many admirers.

  Walker cleared his throat. It was warm in there, he thought, tugging at his collar. Finally she sighed.

  “Go ahead.” When he just looked at her, she added, “Tell me how irresponsible I was to drive so fast on wet roads. I was careless and reckless, et cetera, et cetera…”

  “I didn’t come here to lecture you.”

  “No? Then why did you come?”

  “Damn if I know.”

  Her lips twitched and, for a moment, he was terrified she was going to start crying but then her mouth curved up into a smile, a genuine smile that had his breath catching.

  “What a surprise. Walker Bertrand not knowing something. I’m actually relieved. It seems as if most of the time I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t know what she wants.”

  He walked closer so that he stood over her. “Oh, I think you know what I want,” he said lowly.

  Her throat worked. It felt good, being able to take her by surprise when she was the one always in control, always trying to keep people guessing.

  She shifted and her face paled, her lips thinned.

  He helped her sit up, knew it pained her and he hated that she was hurting.

  “I’d better get going,” he said abruptly, not liking where his thoughts were heading, not liking how much he wanted to stay.

  “Oh. Well…” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  He nodded and then, because he couldn’t resist, he touched her, just the ends of her hair, a gentle brush of his fingers. He curled his hands into fists. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He made it to the door before her voice stopped him. “I thought I was going to die.” He turned, saw her fingers plucking at the blanket. “I thought…God, I really am following in my mother’s footsteps. Dead before I really had a chance to live. To make my dreams come true.”

  “You’re not your mother,” Walker said as he crossed to the bed.

  “Out of the three of us, I’m the closest to her in personality. From the time I was little, I was aware of the similarities between us. So, I embraced them. I knew she wasn’t perfect, but I understood her, I still understand her.”

  “You understand her how?”

  Tori lifted a shoulder. “I understand that she was unhappy. Layne hated her—she hated her so much for so long, even before she left. She hated that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, be the type of mother Layne thought she should be. She held on to that hate, maybe still holds on to it even knowing what really happened to her. Nora is more forgiving. She likes to believe Mom would’ve come back, that we would’ve had this happy little family once Mom realized she’d made a huge mistake.”

  “You don’t agree?”

  “I knew Mom would never come back,” she said matter-of-factly. “For eighteen years we all had our fears. Layne feared Mom would come back to wreak more havoc on our lives, on our father’s life. Nora feared Mom wouldn’t come back, that she’d never know what she was missing out on by not being a part of her daughters’ lives.”

  Tori sighed, stared over his shoulder.

  “What were you afraid of?” he asked quietly when she remained silent.

  He didn’t think she was going to answer or would, more than likely, give him one of her seductive smiles, one of those come-hither looks and laugh, say she wasn’t afraid of anything. If she’d done either of those, he told himself, he’d be able to walk away. Could finally get her out of his head once and for all.

  Would be able to convince himself she wasn’t worth his time, his thoughts or the conflicting feelings she brought out in him.

  “I was afraid I’d end up just like her,” Tori admitted softly. “That inside, I was the same as she was. I was afraid I’d be stuck in this town in a marriage I didn’t want, always wishing for something better. Layne was angry she left. Nora thought she’d never come back,” Tori repeated. “And I just wished she’d taken me with her.”

  * * *

  TORI CRINGED. Why had she admitted that? She preferred to keep the truth hidden. It was safer that way. No one could use it against you. No one could hurt you if they didn’t know who you really were, what you really wanted.

  Walker was getting the better of her. He confused her, intrigued her. Attracted her.

  She hadn’t heard or seen him since Saturday night and it killed her that she’d wanted to. That she’d wanted him to come to her, to track her down.

  Wanted him to seek her out, to pursue her like other men did. Except, she was afraid that, unlike the other guys, she’d let him catch her.

  She waited for Walker to give her one of his cool looks, to tell her in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t worth hi
s or anyone else’s time. But he surprised her yet again.

  She wasn’t sure she liked being surprised.

  “You think you should feel guilty because you don’t hate your mother?” he asked. “You were a kid when she left.”

  “I loved her. Don’t get me wrong, I saw her clearly. Just as clearly as Layne did but I didn’t hate her for it, I didn’t long for her to be different. I saw her and I accepted her and I still loved her. She was like this…light…this beacon. Whenever she entered a room, everyone paid attention. Everyone.”

  “Seems to me, the problem with all that attention is that some of it’s going to be negative.”

  Tori nodded. “It was. That was another lesson she taught me. Some people were going to hate you, resent you for being what they’re not. For being too afraid to go after what they want.”

  He nudged the side of her thigh. Startled, she scooted over and he sat on the edge of the bed. “What did she want?”

  “More,” Tori said simply. “A hell of a lot more than small-town life where everyone knew her every move and tried to pry open all her secrets. More than marriage to a man she didn’t love, not enough.”

  He laid his hand on her knee and even through the thin material of the blanket, his skin was warm, his touch reassuring. “More than having three daughters?”

  A painful lump formed in Tori’s throat. “She loved us. She just didn’t love us enough. Didn’t love us more than she loved herself.”

  “And you think you take after her in that way? That you don’t love Brandon enough?”

  “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road, not even for a second. He was scared. I scared him.”

  “It was an accident, a mistake,” Walker pointed out. “It happens.”

  “I seem to make more than my fair share.”

  “Guess everyone excels at something.”

  “At least I’m number one at something. I used to think I was a good mother. That if there was one thing in this world I was really excellent at, it was being Brandon’s mom. And now I don’t even have that.”

  Walker leaned back, his shirt pulling tight against his flat abs, his broad chest. “Just because a kid doesn’t like how you’re doing things, doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. Most of the times I was pissed at my parents it was because they wouldn’t let me do something I shouldn’t have been doing anyway.”