by Candis Terry
“Good morning, Lucky.” She stroked her fingers across the top of his head and laughed as he turned on his motor. “How long have you been sitting on my chest waiting for me to wake up?”
“Meeeerrow.”
“And you’re hungry, too?” She ruffled the fur between his pointy ears. “Well, let’s not keep that tummy waiting any longer.” She tossed back the covers and padded to the big French doors overlooking the meadow and lake, where a fisherman in a small trawler had just cast his line. The whip of the filament glittered in the sun. What a wonderful view.
She turned to grab her silk kimono and found Lucky rolled up on the bed like a big puff of gray fur. Somehow he’d twisted himself up so he was looking at her upside down. “Untangle yourself, young man, and let’s go get some chow.”
The kitten sprang from the bed and trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen. While he walked a figure-eight around her ankles, she reached for the container of cat food, then poured a splash of it into his bowl. His purr motor sputtered between bites and Kelly laughed. “You are one content little dude.”
While Lucky munched his meow chow, Kelly filled the coffeemaker, tried not to think about James, and sat down with her to-do list. She’d always been a great multi-tasker, but even she had to admit she had a lot to accomplish. The first call went to the painters she, Dean, and Kate had hired to paint the inside of their father’s home. Once she verified they would arrive at their scheduled time, she planned to meet them and let them into the house. Next came the call to the decorator Dean had contacted—the same person he’d previously used at the lodge house to make the masculine master bedroom more Emma-friendly. Kelly was glad their father had allowed his children to give him the makeover as a gift. It was about time. Of course, talking him out of his favorite recliner might be a colossal feat.
Though their parents had never allowed any of their children to upgrade anything they owned, when their mother had died, Kate had taken the stubborn bull by the horns and completely reinvented the Sugar Shack. Their dad had been so happy he’d cried. Kelly thought the day would never come when he’d be willing to let go of the houseful of memories he’d been surrounded with. Maybe the loneliness had finally won. Whatever the reason, once he’d announced he was ready to retire and take on some new challenges, all his children jumped at the chance to help.
The jury was still out, however, on whether Kelly would actually take him up on his request for her and Kate to completely take over the bakery. While Kate adored her new life making cupcakes and cookies, Kelly wasn’t so sure where she’d fit in or what she could add to the already successful and booming business. She truly enjoyed getting to know her hometown again, and she loved not being tied to an office or a desk. Or a courtroom. All she’d known since college was law. It was all she’d ever worked for and she wasn’t sure she could be successful at anything else. However, if she could think of a way to make a difference at the bakery then she’d have her answer on whether it was the right thing to do.
Once she showered and got dressed, she gave Lucky a kiss on his soft little head and she jumped in the Buick. Today, she began clown class. As odd as that sounded to Sister Serious, she found herself far more excited than she had ever been the day she began classes at Northwestern.
On the long winding drive from the lake into Deer Lick, she didn’t think about James Harley once.
Twice, yes.
James smoothed his hand down the front of his uniform shirt before he walked into his mother’s house. He pasted on a smile and grabbed hold of whatever optimism he could find. He’d never been very good at juggling emotional situations. Cop business? Piece of cake. Anything that fell north of hook ’em and book ’em, he definitely needed more practice. Since he’d screwed his head on right a few years back, he’d used the slow and steady approach. But the situation with Kelly and the trouble just beyond his mother’s innocent-looking front door were full-tilt, no-holds-barred gotta-be-handled-right-freaking-now.
Whether he liked it or not.
He opened the door and stepped into the living room, which registered only slightly cooler than the heat wave outside. He found his mother in her wheelchair in front of the TV, watching some afternoon talk show and worrying a tissue between her stiff fingers. When she looked up with tears in her eyes James nearly buckled at the knees. Understandably she’d made some poor choices in men. However, life had not been fair to his mother, and he’d vowed to do everything he could to make things right. Sadly, he couldn’t control others, and sometimes that’s exactly what he needed to do to provide her some peace of mind.
“Hey, beautiful.” He knelt before her wheelchair, leaned in, and kissed her cheek. He covered her hands with his own. “How are you feeling?”
“Sad.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Helpless. Angry.”
“I know. And I’m going to take care of this. Okay?”
Her hands clenched, and she gave a silent nod. His heart broke in so many pieces he didn’t think he’d ever find them all to put it back together again. He gave her another kiss on the cheek, stood, and headed for the bedroom at the back of the house.
Mrs. Moore, his mother’s caregiver, clasped her hand over his arm as he passed. “Thank you, James. She’s just been so upset. He’s fine one minute, then the next he’s just . . . hostile.”
“I shouldn’t have brought him here in the first place. I just didn’t—”
“Don’t blame yourself. You did the only thing you could think of, and I certainly didn’t mind trying to help.”
James nodded, patted her hand, and continued down the hall. He pushed open the bedroom door.
“You can’t fucking knock?” Sprawled out on the bed, Alex growled without even looking to see who had entered the room.
It hadn’t taken long for Alex’s belligerence to reappear after his accident. Of course, James and anyone who knew Alex realized there had been nothing accidental about what had happened. No one would be foolish enough to believe the bullshit story Alex told. And as grateful as James had been that Alex was still alive—this time—he couldn’t let him reign chaos over their mother’s house like a thankless tormenter.
“Get up.”
“Fuck you.” His little brother’s lip curled in a snarl, and James wished he could just slap it off his face. Even with his chosen profession, he’d never been a believer in violence. Not even if someone was begging for it. He’d been given a second chance, and he believed everyone else deserved one, too. Alex, unfortunately, was on number ten.
“I said get up,” James repeated. “Now.”
Alex glared at James then turned his attention back to the small TV on the dresser. “And if I don’t? What are you going to do, kick my ass? I’ve got three broken ribs. Think you can add more before I take you down?”
“I’ve taken down bigger blow-hard know-it-alls than you’ll ever be.” James leaned in, letting his size—and maybe the gun strapped to his waist—do the talking. “You are no longer welcome in this house. At least not until you pull your head out of your ass and realize how much that woman in there loves you. She doesn’t deserve the way you treat her.”
“She doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Rage, hot and sharp, exploded in James’s veins. He’d never wanted to smack someone so badly in his life. But that wouldn’t help the situation. So he used whatever he could pull out of his hat. He’d deal with the repercussions later.
“You selfish little prick,” James said in a calm voice that belied the disgust clenching his fists. “That woman—our mother—is paralyzed. She can barely speak to tell you she cares or lift her hands to hug you, but she loves you with all her heart. She took you in to give you a place to heal, but you’re so ungrateful and selfish you can’t even see that.”
“I don’t—”
“Shut up, Alex. And get your sorry selfish ass out of that bed before I yank you out. I don’t give a shit if your ribs hurt. I don’t give a shit if you pass out from the pain. You brought thi
s on yourself. I don’t understand why you have all this rage bottled up inside, but until I figure it out I am not going to let you make that woman in there miserable one second longer.”
James sucked in a deep breath of air to slow the pounding in his blood. He grabbed Alex’s shirt off the chair next to the bed and threw it at him.
“Fine.” Alex grabbed the shirt and held it up in his fist. “But as soon as you leave, I’m gone.”
“Yeah?” James leaned down and shoved his face right into his obstinate sibling’s face. “Try it.”
“You’ve got to work.” Alex snarled. “How are you going to stop me?”
James gave him an evil grin. “Easy, baby brother. I got you a babysitter.”
“A babysitter!” Ten shades of outrage flashed on Alex’s face. “You think I can’t push past some little old lady?”
James grabbed hold of Alex’s arm and pulled him up and out of bed. The flinch Alex tried to hide didn’t deter James from doing what he had to do. Though it didn’t make the job any easier.
Tough love sucked.
“Your babysitter weighs two hundred and sixty pounds and goes by the name of The Executioner. Any questions?”
Mouth agape, eyes wide, Alex stood silent.
“Didn’t think so. Now get your ass in the car.”
The following day James ended his night shift and headed home. Life had been anything but pleasant in the Harley household since Alex had come back. But that didn’t mean James would give up. Even if guilt swept over him like the breath of the devil for not staying home and dealing with the situation.
There had been no way he could have called in sick. With Stan Bradshaw on vacation and Jeremy Reinbolt off after knee surgery, the station was short-handed. And though Matt was his best friend and would most likely understand his current situation and insist he take the time off, James would never impose. Not to mention he’d need the money. Because sure as shit, Alex’s hospital bill would be big enough to choke an elephant.
As a last resort, James had called in a favor from his old friend Rocky Hamilton, who just happened to be a UFC fighter. The man struck an imposing image, though he was a big pussycat with his wife and two little girls. Rocky had agreed to help, stating he could use the extra cash because both his daughters wanted a Barbie Dream House for their birthday. And they didn’t want to share. According to Rocky, Barbie didn’t come cheap.
Personally, James had never been into big boobs—real or fake. He liked a woman to look like a real woman, not a plastic doll. If the Hamilton girls wanted expensive toys, it only worked in his favor. There had been no way he could have left Alex alone today. At least not until he convinced the hard-headed little fool that he wasn’t the enemy.
He parked the truck in the driveway, took a deep breath, and went into the house. As the door shut behind him, Rocky stood up from the couch and gave him a fist bump.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” Rocky said with a shake of his gleaming bald head.
“What did he do?”
“Not really what he did and not what he said. But that kid has a bigger chip on his shoulder than anyone I’ve ever met. What the hell happened to him?”
James shrugged. “Life.”
“You want some advice?”
“I’ll take all I can get.”
Rocky lifted a dark brow. “Talk to him.”
“As you can see he’s not much of a communicator.”
“Hey, I’ve got two girls who offer conversation in the form of squeals and snarls. I get what you mean. But if you want to keep your sanity, I’d try to find out what’s pushing his buttons.”
“You mean other than me?”
Rocky barked out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Yep. And good luck with that.”
James watched his friend stroll down the path toward his car, then he turned toward the empty living room. “Guess there’s no time better than the present.”
As he made his way down the hall, no sound came from Alex’s room. Either the kid had snuck out the window or he was asleep. One would lead James to a wild chase. He prayed for the other. He eased open the door and found Alex lying on the bed with a book in his hands and the dogs stretched out across his lap. Even more amazing—the room was clean. Spotless. Not a single T-shirt or pair of boxers was on the floor. Looked like little bro had been busy. It was a good sign. A small one, but James would take what he could get.
“What are you reading?” he asked, surprised, because he’d never seen Alex pick up a book before.
“A book some chick gave to me.”
James tilted his head and noticed a pair of hands cupping an apple on the cover. “Isn’t that the vampire book?”
Alex looked up. “Yeah. I thought it would be dorky, but it’s actually kind of good.”
“Reading is a good use of time.” James entered the room and stood beside the bed. “You got a few minutes?”
Dark brows pulled together over dark eyes. “You gonna yell at me?”
“Nope.” He folded his arms across his chest. I just thought we could have a talk.”
Alex closed the book, stroked the dogs’ heads then sat up with a wince.
“How are your ribs feeling?”
“Busted.”
“You’re young. They should heal pretty fast. Although next time you might want to choose to talk to an unattached female instead of one who has a boyfriend with a good right hook.”
A staggered breath lifted Alex’s shoulders. “You know that’s not what happened, right?”
“I figured. You want to tell me the truth?”
“Nothing really to tell. I went looking for a fight.”
“Why?”
Alex leaned back against the headboard. “Stupid, I guess.”
“Stupid—which you are not—doesn’t usually lead someone to pick a fight.”
“Guess I’m just a problem child then.”
James pulled air into his lungs. That’s what he’d thought about himself years ago. “Maybe you’re a child with a problem. How about we talk about that? And don’t worry. You probably aren’t going to shed light on anything I haven’t already seen, said, or done.”
With the exception of Poppy releasing a long sigh, silence hung heavy between them.
“Promise you won’t laugh,” Alex said, lowering his gaze to the blue plaid comforter.
James sat down on the edge of the bed. “Promise.”
A long pause stretched out between them before Alex opened up. “I’m afraid. And that makes me mad. Only pussies are supposed to be afraid.”
James’s heart jumped, and he respected the admission for what it was. Honesty. “Are you calling me a pussy?”
“You’re never afraid,” Alex said.
“Are you kidding? There have been times in my life when I was so scared I cried like a little girl.”
Alex gave a brief chuckle that died out on a long sigh.
“What are you afraid of?”
Brown eyes stared into his own, and James felt their desperation to his core.
“I’m afraid that no one wants me,” Alex confided. “My father never wanted me. Mom didn’t want me. And I know you didn’t want me when I moved in here after mom got sick.”
“That’s not true, Alex. I can’t answer for your father . . .” Who was a total scumbag. “But I can tell you that it wasn’t that mom didn’t want you. She loves you. But she can’t even care for herself.”
“I would have helped her.”
“You were eleven.”
“I still could have helped.”
James’s heart did a funny sidestep in his chest that stole his breath. Alex had never been given that option. Everyone who thought they knew what had been best for him had made the decisions for him. Alex had never been brought in on the conversation.
“You’re right. We should have talked to you before we made arrangements that would affect your life,” James admitted.
Alex shrugged. “Just would have
been nice, you know?”
James understood. There were many situations in his past where he’d not been allowed to have a say. Not when his mother brought home a new daddy who’d hated James on sight. Not when she’d brought home a new baby brother who’d taken over his room and his life. Not when she’d put fifteen-year-old James in charge of an infant while she went looking for husband number three.
Seems he’d always been responsible for Alex. And he’d done a piss-poor job. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad brother,” James said. “And I’m sorry you hate living here.”
“It’s not that bad. You just . . . yell all the time. That’s how I know you don’t want me here.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you here, Alex. It’s just . . .”
Why couldn’t he just open up and say what he felt? That yes, sometimes he didn’t want Alex there, but that other times he was ecstatic to have him around. That sometimes Alex could be a total pain-in-the-butt, and that his behavior brought back a slew of bad memories James would rather forget. Like the night he’d been put in charge of his colicky baby brother who wouldn’t stop crying. After hours of trying to calm him down, James had lost his mind and walked out. He’d left his baby brother alone, stolen a motorcycle, and almost died.
He’d deserved to die.
He was lucky nothing had happened to Alex that night.
James knew he’d been selfish, and irresponsible, and irrational. And even though he’d been only a kid at the time, he’d never been able to forgive himself. Not even now, which is only one of the reasons it was so hard to explain things to his baby brother.
After the accident it had taken him a long time to look into Alex’s young insightful eyes. Because when he looked deep enough, James saw the reflection of his own failures.
James’s chest tightened and his eyes blurred. He looked away. “It’s just complicated.”
Nervous and questioning her sanity, Kelly opened the heavy steel door of the Grange—the epicenter of important events in beautiful downtown Deer Lick. She stepped within the century-old cinder block wall structure that exhibited Jack Wagoner’s award-winning moose antlers and boasted community events—from wedding receptions to the Beefy Bros. arm-wrestling competitions and the flower-arranging contest held during the county fair.