by Annie Rains
“Now wait one minute,” Micah said behind her, his voice hard-edged like it’d been earlier in the week.
Kat didn’t turn back. Instead, she continued talking to Ben. “But if you change your mind, I’d really like to talk to the person who drew that picture. A kid has to feel really bad about themselves to want to tear someone else down.”
Ben blinked. “I didn’t think about that.”
She lifted a shoulder and stood, ironing her hands over her skirt. “My office door is always open. I’m a good listener, and I happen to know that you’re a good talker.”
Ben’s contagious smile was back. “Okay.” His gaze moved to his father.
Kat hesitated before looking at Micah, too, already suspecting what she’d see in his expression—something similar to what she’d seen after she’d walked Ben to class on the first day of school—unmasked disapproval.
Not looking at her, Micah reached for the drawing in her hand and gave it another quick glance, growling under his breath. “We’ll talk at home,” he said to Ben.
It was obvious he didn’t like the way she’d handled the situation. Would he rather that she bully the answer out of his son, though?
“Have a nice weekend,” he said tightly, walking with Ben toward his Jeep Cherokee in the parking lot.
“ ’Bye, Principal Chandler,” Ben called, not looking back.
“ ’Bye. See you Monday!” And with that, the first week of school was over. Kat blew out a breath. Not too bad. Everyone had survived, and next week would be even better—as long as she kept her hard and fast attraction toward a certain parent in check, and proved to him that she had his son’s best interests at heart. Because she did. Ben was a great kid, and she was going to make sure that he, and every other student at SES, was successful this year.
—
Micah stared at Ben across the dinner table that night. He’d made salads on purpose. Ben hated salads and, for the life of him, he didn’t know how to punish the kid. Ben needed to tell on his bully, so that the brat could be tossed in that Friendship Club the school was constructing for mean kids.
“You don’t protect the people who hurt you,” he said, studying Ben’s forlorn features.
“You protect Mom,” Ben countered.
Micah started to argue, stopping short when the doorbell rang. He pointed a finger. “Not the same, but hold that thought.”
He walked toward the front door and opened it, already knowing who would be there. “Hey, Lawson. Maybe you can talk some sense into my boy.”
Lawson pulled off his cowboy hat and hung it on a hook in the hallway as he followed Micah toward the table. It was Friday night. Lawson had been showing up on Friday nights since their first deployment together. Micah had saved his life in the desert and somehow that translated into having weekly meals together.
Ben’s eyes lit up when he saw him. “Uncle Lawson!”
Yeah, and somehow weekly meals translated into family. That was fine by Micah, too. Ben needed family. Other than Micah, all Ben had was a mother who had chosen the military over him and a grandfather who, as the CO of Camp Leon, was the military.
Then there was Aunt Clara and Uncle Rick who lived next door. They were a big part of the reason that Micah had decided to stay in Seaside once he got out of the military. Clara and Rick had always been home to him, no matter where he’d gone growing up, moving across the country, wherever his father’s job sent them. Every time he’d visited Seaside, he’d felt that ring of familiarity in his heart—the one he guessed people got when they came home.
This was his home.
Lawson, all six foot three of him, stood in front of the table and frowned at the salad like a disappointed child.
Micah tried not to look at him for fear of laughing. This was a serious meal. Ben needed to tell him who was bullying him at school.
“A salad?” Lawson muttered. “Really? I don’t know if I mentioned it on the phone or not, but I ran six miles this morning. And spent all day in the field. I probably sweat off at least two gallons out there, man.”
Nice visual. “You mentioned it.” Micah sat and picked up his fork, stabbing at a leaf of lettuce. “Ben, tell Uncle Lawson why we’re having salads for dinner.”
Ben squirmed in his chair. “Because salads are good for you.”
“Wrong answer,” Micah said sharply. “Some kid at school is picking on Ben. Drawing pictures of him and calling him names.”
“What kid?” Lawson asked, his eyes darkening. He was a good friend, and loved Ben as much as he would a real nephew.
“He’s not saying,” Micah said through tight lips. He wanted to shake the answer out of his son right now and then barge down to the bully’s house and lay into the kid until he cried uncontrollably. And after that, lay into the kid’s parents for raising such a brat. Not that he’d actually do that, of course.
But Ben wasn’t saying. No matter how much the kid had hurt his feelings, he didn’t want to see his bully get in trouble with his overprotective father. Micah got that. It’s the same thing he would’ve done, but it didn’t keep his blood from singing through his veins.
“Fine. You can add doing the dishes every night to your list of chores,” Micah said.
“Dad!”
Lawson raised a finger quietly, seated now with a fork in hand. “How’s he supposed to wash dishes?”
Micah and Ben both looked at him like he had vines growing out of his ears.
“I can wash dishes, Uncle Lawson. I hold the dish in my left arm and wash with my right. Just takes forever.” He emphasized the word “forever,” rolling his eyes.
“Keep complaining and I’ll add folding the laundry.” Micah noticed the slight tremble in Ben’s chin. Oh, geez. He hoped his son wouldn’t start crying. Lawson hated it when Ben cried. The man got all shifty and looked like he was being held hostage or something.
“If you’re so big and tough, why don’t you just tell me this news you’ve been trying to break to me all week,” Ben said then.
Micah steeled himself, holding his fork suspended in the air. “What news?”
“You know. The news about Mom.” Tears shone in Ben’s eyes. His cheeks were already a ruddy red from the emotion swirling through him. Cerebral palsy didn’t just affect his son’s muscle tone, it also made him an extra emotional kid. It was something Micah understood, but it still socked him in the gut every time he saw Ben’s tears.
Lawson shoved more lettuce in his mouth, keeping his head low. Micah guessed he was regretting not going home for a boring night of TV or finding a date for tonight instead.
“How did you know your mom was deploying again?” Micah asked.
Ben pushed aside his plate as a tear glided down his freckled cheek. He sniffed, looking like he was doing his best not to fall apart, and Micah knew he was. “I didn’t. Until now.”
Chapter 6
Kat watched her younger sister park and step out of her little Honda Civic. Julie was an inch taller than she was, which had always grated on Kat’s nerves growing up, and a little tanner, thanks to her morning yoga routine, which she did outside. Even so, people had always mistaken them for twins. They were nearly identical, on the outside at least. Personality wise, they were worlds different.
Julie’s gaze flicked toward the window.
Spotted. Straightening, Kat guessed she had to help with her sister’s bags now. There couldn’t be more than a couple. Julie was only staying for a weekend because she had to get back to her job as a yoga instructor at her boyfriend’s health club in Charlotte.
“Julie!” Kat was surprised by the genuine enthusiasm that rolled off her as she bounded down the steps and toward the car in her driveway.
Setting her bags down, Julie opened her arms, looking genuinely happy to see her, too. Of course, Julie was always happy to see everyone. Other than Val, she didn’t have any enemies. Growing up, Kat would’ve said that her younger sister was perfect, or as close to perfection as it came.
&nbs
p; “Hey, sis!” Julie stepped back and gave Kat an assessing look. “How are you?”
With a close-up look, Kat could ask the same. “I’m good. You?”
Julie brushed her hair from her face, seeming to breathe in the air around her. “The drive was a long one, but it feels good to be home.”
That was a statement that Kat never thought she’d hear her sister say. Julie had gone away to college right after high school and, while she was religious about making the obligatory holiday visits, she rarely came back to Seaside otherwise. Which raised all kinds of questions about what she was doing here now. Before Kat could ask, though, Julie popped the trunk of her car and Kat stared with her mouth agape at the one, two, three, four…six bags in the trunk. A car this small shouldn’t even hold six bags.
“Let’s just get these to my room and then we can catch up,” Julie said, heaving a duffel bag over her shoulder.
Her room?
Kat had envisioned Julie taking the couch. There was no spare room here. Unless Julie stayed in the master bedroom, where John’s things still resided. Kat hadn’t slept there in over two years—since she’d been notified that he was killed in action. That room had been theirs together. How could she sleep there knowing John was never coming home?
Julie’s gaze lowered as Kat twisted the engagement ring on her finger, the concern etching itself deeper into the fine lines of her face. Then she lugged another bag on her shoulder and started walking toward the front door.
Kat followed her inside. “Just how long will you be staying exactly?”
As if she didn’t hear her, her sister continued walking down the hall, poking her head into both rooms, and then heading inside the master. “I assume you’re using the one that looks lived in, so I’ll camp out here if that’s okay.” A smile brightened her face as she plopped down on the king-sized bed and looked at Kat.
“You can’t stay in this room. And please get off the bed,” she said, her tone becoming the one she used when disciplining her students—polite but pointed. She refused to put Julie’s luggage down in this room. It was off-limits.
“This was your room with John,” Julie said, not budging. Her eyes tilted sympathetically.
Kat hated when people’s eyes slanted in pity. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Julie asked, the slant diving deeper.
“Looking at me like I’m not okay. I am okay. Just because I don’t use this room, or that bed anymore, doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know.” Julie nodded. “Have you even touched this bed since he’s been gone?”
Not since she’d gotten the call from John’s sobbing mother, informing her that they’d identified his body. “Please, just get up,” Kat snapped, trying her best not to sound like a royal bitch. “You can sleep somewhere else. I’ll give you my room and I’ll take the couch.”
Julie stood, shaking her head. “I’m not kicking you out of your own room. If anyone is taking the couch, it’s me. The couch will be perfect, actually.” She lifted her bags and started back down the hall. “Are you at least going to therapy?” she asked.
Kat didn’t answer. Work was her therapy. And Val.
“You never were good at taking care of yourself. Too busy taking care of everyone else around you,” Julie continued.
Kat huffed, doing her best to keep up as Julie strode directly toward the kitchen. “I’m taking care of myself. You don’t even live here. You have no idea if I’m taking care of myself or not. Which I am.” Kat rested her hands on her hips, her brows lowering as she watched Julie open the refrigerator and peer inside. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing just how well you take care of yourself.” Julie glanced over her shoulder. “You’re living off cold pizza and mustard?”
Point taken.
“Kirk’s pizza is the best,” Kat said weakly, as if that were a viable defense.
“Well, we’re going out to dinner tonight anyway, right?” Julie shut the fridge and leaned against the counter. “We’ll work on finding you that rebound guy tonight and get groceries tomorrow. It’s a wonder you’re still breathing.” Her sister winked playfully.
“I’m the older sister. I’m the one who is supposed to be making sure you’re okay.”
Julie’s smile wilted only slightly. “All good.” Her catchphrase for as long as Kat could remember. Everything was always “all good.” And Kat usually believed her. But Julie was suddenly home, and the dark circles under her eyes made Kat wonder at the reason.
“How soon do the bars open in Seaside anyway?” Julie asked, flashing a wicked grin.
“Only one bar in Seaside, remember? Heroes. And I believe it’s open right now.”
“Good.” Julie headed toward her suitcase. “I’ll freshen up, we’ll grab a bite, and then we’ll work on getting you laid.”
Kat spewed the drink of water she’d just sipped onto the floor in front of her. “Who said anything about having sex?” Kat asked.
Julie chuckled, looking her over. “Sis, you are wound tighter than a forty-year-old virgin. But okay, fine.” She held up her hands in surrender. “You can start by getting wasted drunk tonight and we’ll advance to orgasms another night. How’s that?”
Kat’s shoulders relaxed a notch. Drunk sounded nice. “Perfect.”
—
Micah reluctantly walked through the door of Heroes, Seaside’s only bar. It was a popular hole-in-the-wall that catered to the local military. How had Lawson talked him into coming here after the dinner from hell, when Ben had stared at his lettuce like eating it was some new form of torture? He just wanted his kid to be happy. Was that too much to ask?
“Ben’ll be fine with your aunt. Aunt Clara is awesome.” Lawson bumped his shoulder, seeming to read his mind. “You need some time off to unwind.”
Drinking wasn’t Micah’s idea of unwinding. Unwinding was tilling dirt. Riding his mower. Fishing. “Aunt Clara?” Micah teased. “She’s my aunt, you know? Not yours.”
Lawson shrugged. “What happened to what’s mine is yours?”
“I never said that.” Micah frowned. “And keep your voice down. You’re making us sound like an old married couple.”
Lawson’s gaze skimmed over him. “Nah. You’re not my type, bro. Bar or table?”
“Table.” Micah hated the bar. The bar was for people who wanted to talk about their problems. And while Jeff, the regular bartender here, was a good listener, Micah wasn’t in the mood. He’d rather drink and listen to Lawson talk.
Truth be told, he’d really rather go home.
They headed toward a round table in the back corner, as Lawson scanned the room for women. Micah guessed he’d be ditched within the hour. Then he could nab Ben and maybe catch the tail end of a game on TV.
Settling into his seat, Lawson whistled under his breath. “Don’t look now, but a smokin’ hot brunette just walked through the door.”
Micah turned to look.
“I said don’t look.” Lawson shook his head, and then flashed a charming smile at the waitress standing next to him. “I’ll just have a Coke to start with, sweetheart.”
The young woman flushed as she nodded. “And for you?” she asked, smiling at Micah.
“A beer, please.” Turning, he looked at the woman who’d just walked in again. “That brunette you have your eye on looks familiar. I think she works at Ben’s school.” He watched the woman join a table with two other women and his mouth went dry. “Kat.” And another woman who looked a lot like Kat. He hadn’t started drinking yet, and he was already seeing double.
“I spotted her first, buddy. But because you saved my life in the desert—”
Micah faced Lawson. “Her name is Val, and I’m not interested in her. I know her friend. Don’t look—” His words came out as Lawson craned his neck to stare at the table of women.
His head bobbed approvingly. “Which one is yours? She-Ra or Cinderella?”
“She-Ra?” Micah asked, lifting a brow.
“Yeah. You kn
ow. Princess of Power.” Lawson waved a hand. “I’m guessing you’re into Cinderella. She’s more your type, all sweet and innocent looking.”
“Cinderella? Your man card is in jeopardy right now, man. Her name is Kat Chandler. She’s Ben’s principal.”
Lawson’s smile grew as he rubbed his hands together. “Ben told me about her the other night. Said you like his principal a lot. Emphasis on a lot.”
The waitress set a beer in front of him. “Ben wants me to like her a lot. He feels guilty about Nicole. Thinks I’m lonely.”
Lawson drank from his Coke. “You are lonely. Why don’t we buy a round for the pretty ladies over there? I can’t decide between Val and She-Ra. She-Ra looks pretty kickass in a sexy-as-hell way. I’ll leave Cinderella for you, though.” His brows bounced playfully.
Micah started to peel the label on his bottle. “I’m not buying Ben’s principal a drink.”
“This isn’t school, it’s a bar. And she’s not a principal right now, she’s a woman. A fairest-of-them-all specimen,” Lawson said, mixing up his fairy tales—not that Micah would admit to knowing the difference, much less point that fact out.
Micah leaned back in his chair and nursed the beer in his hand. “What are we? Twelve?”
Lawson waved the waitress back over. “Three refills of whatever the ladies over there are having.”
“Got it.” Scribbling on her notepad, she flushed again as she met Lawson’s eyes. It was enough to make Micah gag. Women fell over themselves around the guy, acted like he walked on water.
“It’s the cowboy hat,” Micah said, when she walked away.
Lawson grinned. “Whatever works. You can borrow it sometime if you want. If you’re feeling like you need a little help in the romantic field.”
Screw tiny sips. He took a huge gulp from his beer. “I don’t need help. Thanks.”
“Uh-oh. She’s bringing the drinks over.” Lawson grabbed a menu and pretended to read, lifting his gaze, none too casually. “They’re looking at us,” he said through the corner of his mouth.
Micah turned in his chair and met Kat’s eyes. Wow. Lawson was right. She wasn’t a principal tonight. She looked…like a goddess. Or, yes, Cinderella with her pale skin and flowing blond hair that hung past her shoulders.