“I have to. It’s the right choice.” Swallowing, he forced himself to remain calm. Absolute. If he showed her even a hint of his turmoil, misery, then she’d find a way to convince him to keep going. To keep trying. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to her. To him, either.
Not when they’d just end up here anyway. As he’d learned from his mother, false hope did no one a bit of good. False hope brought on more pain each and every time that hope was destroyed. Until eventually, all that remained was the hollow, empty, lonely place he lived in.
Nope. Haley would not live in the same place. He wouldn’t allow it.
“This is the right choice,” he said again. “I need you to accept this.”
“You’re so wrong.” Tears still slid and slipped down the planes of her face. She wiped them away, sucked in a shaky breath and gave him that stubborn-as-hell look he so loved. “I won’t ignore your wishes this time, and I won’t chase after you again. This is a cycle I won’t keep repeating.”
“Good,” he said, doing his best to ignore the riptide of pain that was about three seconds from swallowing him whole. “You shouldn’t.”
“What I will do is hope you change your mind,” she said, her chin high. “And I will hope you find the sense to do so soon. But you’ll have to come to me.”
And then, without a backward glance, she stood and walked away.
* * *
When Haley walked into the back door at Foster’s Pub and Grill, the first person her eyes landed on was Reid. Just seeing him, standing there talking to one of the employees as if her world hadn’t just exploded around her, brought every one of her emotions to the edge. And no, this wasn’t his fault. Not really. But she couldn’t see the logic.
Not with her agony, her despair, her surety that she had just lost someone so essential, so crucial to her happiness, to who she was, that she’d never smile again.
So she wasn’t thinking when she approached him. She wasn’t considering all of the other reasons—whether valid or invalid—why Gavin had just made this decision. All she saw, all she felt, was that she had to blame someone. And Reid was the likeliest candidate.
“How dare you?” she all but yelled. “What gives you the right to butt your head into my life without even so much as talking with me? Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Whoa there, Haley,” Reid said, instantly concerned. Instantly defensive, too. “I don’t know what you think I did, but other than a few questions—”
“Oh, no, you don’t get to ‘whoa’ me. Not this time.” Haley’s breaths became ragged as her brain formed the words she needed to say. “This man is amazing, Reid. You don’t even know. Don’t even have the slightest clue what you’ve done...or, at least, the part you’ve played in what has just happened. I...I’ve had to work so hard to...to just get him to give me—us—a chance. And then you go to his place of business, and you—”
“I need you to stop and breathe, Haley,” Reid commanded. “You’re upset, I understand, and I’m sorry for whatever has happened, but I assure you that all I did was ask Gavin a couple of questions. I was polite. I’m not entirely sure what he told you, but—”
“Why? What was so important that you couldn’t talk with me first?”
“I was concerned. You’ve been exceedingly secretive about this man, called him a loner, and when I saw the background report—saw where he’d once worked and when, I had to know what was going on.” Reid reached for her. She stepped away, out of his grasp. “And the reason I went to the hardware store was to find out when he was available, so we could keep the conversation private, until I learned the deal. But he insisted we talk then and there.”
“What do you mean when you ‘saw the background report’?” Haley asked, her voice now deadly calm. “Because if you mean what I think you mean, then I swear, Reid, I’ll—”
“I mean what you think I mean, and I’m sorry for going that route. It was out of bounds.” He held up his hands in a show of surrender. “But I worry about you, and as I said, you’ve been so secretive...that’s unlike you, Haley.”
“Uh-huh, and it’s this sort of big-brother maneuver that propelled me to be secretive in the first place.” She squeezed her eyes shut, pushed back the tears. She’d cry more later. Buckets more, she was sure. But not now, not if she could help it.
“Okay, I guess I can understand that,” Reid said, watching her carefully. As if she might just blow up in front of him. “I apologize if my ‘big-brother maneuvers’ made you feel as if you couldn’t confide in me. I never want that. You can always confide in me.”
Why did he have to be so damn understanding? Didn’t matter, she told herself, didn’t matter in the slightest. She was mad at him. Needed to be mad in order to subdue the pain.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she repeated. “None.”
“Then tell me,” Reid said. “Get it out.”
“Gavin isn’t used to people caring for him.” She pushed the words out on top of another sob. “He grew up in foster care. His mother drank, couldn’t take care of him because of the drinking. He bopped from one foster home to another. I was protecting what we were trying to build. Giving us time, giving him time, to believe in me. And what you did today?” she said, her voice raising with each syllable. “It didn’t help.”
Reid’s complexion paled. “Oh, sweetheart. I had no idea. I was trying to protect you, that’s all. Trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
And that fired her up even more.
“Do you know what this amazing man is doing, Reid?” Angrily, she swiped at her cheeks as the tears began to fall harder. “He’s bought this huge house, and he’s saving every dollar for renovations so he can open a camp for foster kids, so he can give them something good. This is the man you were concerned about. This is the man I love. And now, I don’t know if he’ll give what’s between us another shot.” Breathe, she told herself. “And part of that rests on you.”
Grief and sorrow weighted Reid’s gaze. “What can I do? Whatever you want.”
“Don’t you get it? There’s nothing to do now. Not one thing.” She turned, to head up the stairs to her apartment, where she could be alone and cry to her heart’s content, when she had another thought. Facing Reid again, she said, “Do you remember how you felt when Daisy left?”
“Yeah. Every day.”
“Has it gotten any better over the years, or do you still miss her?”
Reid shut his eyes, expelled a sigh. “It isn’t better, just less...raw. And yes, I miss her. Always, I miss her. Always, I think about her.”
“Wonderful. Good to know I’ll never feel whole again.” And then, all of her anger drained away, to be replaced by unrelenting sadness. She just about crumpled to her knees, her emotion—her despair—was that strong.
Her brother came to her, opened his arms. She stepped into them and sobbed as he held her, as he whispered apologies and promises that somehow, everything would be okay.
“I hate this,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry for blowing up at you. Wasn’t really your fault. Didn’t help the situation in any way whatsoever, but not your fault.”
Reid held her tighter, and she kept on crying. It seemed she’d never stop. Folks came in and out of the kitchen, but whenever anyone asked what was going on, he shooed them away. Even her parents. Even Dylan. Later, she knew, he’d explain the mess to them.
After a while, he convinced her to go upstairs, to her apartment, where he stayed and kept watch over her. Just as he had when she was a child and she’d wake from a nightmare.
Unfortunately, she knew with heartbreaking clarity that this was one nightmare that wouldn’t disappear by morning.
Chapter Fourteen
The hammer smashed him cleanly on his thumb, which really was the perfect example of how the past week had gone. Gavin
might not have a name for the depths of his misery, but it was bad. He couldn’t sleep—couldn’t even close his eyes without seeing Haley’s tearstained face—couldn’t eat and apparently he couldn’t hammer a damn nail without injuring himself.
Cursing, not at all softly, he dropped the hammer on the floor and gave up. For the time being, his renovations had come to a screeching halt.
Upstairs, Gavin examined the damage to his thumb. Decided he’d live, and took a quick shower. Unsure of what to do, since he didn’t work at the hardware store that day and didn’t trust himself to do anything properly around the house, he meandered downstairs and plopped on the couch. Thought about Haley. Saw those tears of hers again.
Deciding he couldn’t just sit around and think of Haley or her tears, he stood up and went into the kitchen, where he thought he should probably try to eat even if he didn’t feel hungry. Opened the cupboard...and darn if he didn’t see Haley in his mind’s eye, standing right where he was, telling him there was nothing to worry about and that he had plenty for lunch.
He missed her. He missed her voice, her touch, her laugh, the stubborn tilt of her chin.
Annoyed with himself, he grabbed a can of tomato soup from the cupboard. The last one he had from the three before, when she’d pushed her way into staying for that lunch. Cursing again, ignoring the god-awful pain in his thumb—which, as bad as it was, didn’t come close to the pain in his heart—he opened the can.
Seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep that woman out of his head for more than ten seconds at a time. She just lived there now, he guessed. Probably always would.
While the soup heated, he stalked the kitchen, unable to stand still. Decided he’d toast some bread to have with the soup, so he put a few slices of bread in the toaster. Stirred the soup. Stalked some more. Thought of Haley in this kitchen, moving around him as if she belonged here, as if she’d been in this room every friggin’ day of her life.
Remembered how she reminded him of the sun.
The toast popped up in the toaster, the soup started to steam. He finished preparing his lunch, went to the table and started to eat. Thought about those silly questions of hers, and how she’d just keep at him until he answered. And then she’d ask him another. And on and on his brain went, moving from one memory to another, and every one of them centered on Haley.
Not the foster homes. Not his mother. Just Haley.
He had a thought, and knew it was a stupid one, but went to the cupboard to retrieve the peanut butter anyway. Had just finished spreading a glop of the stuff on his toast when he heard a vehicle rumble into his driveway. Looked outside, to see if he wanted to bother answering the door or just pretend he wasn’t home. The identity of his visitors shocked him.
Worried him some, too.
Ignoring Haley’s brothers, though, wasn’t something he’d do, so Gavin went to the front door and stepped on the porch. Waited for them to reach him.
“Is Haley okay?” he asked, wanting to make that determination before anything else.
“Nah, wouldn’t say she’s okay. But she’s breathing and I expect she’ll get to okay eventually,” Cole said, looking Gavin over in interest and curiosity. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Cole, and this here’s Dylan. Believe you know Reid.”
Reid walked up and held out his hand, which Gavin shook. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “For snooping into your background as I did. Wasn’t right, and I’m sorry I went that route.”
“You were concerned about your sister. I understood that then, and I understand that now. That being said, I appreciate and accept the apology.” Gavin leaned against the house, crossed his arms over his chest. Glanced from one Foster brother to the next. “Now, I’m guessing you’re all here for a reason, though I can’t quite figure out what that might be.”
“The apology for one,” Reid said. “We also wanted to drop off some materials. For the renovation Haley tells us you’re in the middle of. She...she tore into me pretty good the day we talked, and let some of your plans slip in the midst of her...anger.”
“Is that so?” Despite his misery, Gavin grinned at the image of Haley tearing into her brother. Would’ve been quite the sight. “I thank you for the thought, but I have no need of—”
“A lot of what we brought over are leftovers, from when I overhauled my place,” Cole said easily. “Some of the other... Well, we’d like to help get this place in shape. See if we can get that camp of yours started sooner rather than later.”
“What you’re planning on,” Dylan said, entering the conversation, “is a real good thing. And it’s something that all of us Fosters—our parents included—would like to be a part of. If you’ll let us, however you’ll let us. Whether that means helping you raise money, with the actual manual labor, or whatever. Just say the word and we’ll do what we can.”
“Did...Haley put you three up to this?” Had to be her.
“Oh, no,” Reid said quickly, with a wry grin. “Pretty sure she’d knock me into next year if she knew I was within spitting distance of you again. This is all us.”
Gavin nodded, scratched his jaw. Tried to understand the whys of this, just as he’d struggled to understand every last step Haley had taken. “You Fosters are something else, aren’t you? I thought the barging in, the wanting to help, the impulsivity issues...thought that was all Haley, but I see she comes by those traits naturally.”
“We’re a stubborn group,” Dylan said with a smile that reminded Gavin of Haley’s. Close, anyway. The same but without all the gloriousness of Haley’s. “And we stand by those we care about. Haley cares about you, so whether you like it or not, that makes you one of us.”
“Regardless of anything else,” Cole added, shooting a glance toward Reid and Dylan. “We’d like to be a part of what you’re doing here, and we hope you’ll consider our suggestion.”
Gavin’s initial response was to thank them again, decline their generous offer and send them on their way. He didn’t need help. Never wanted to rely on anyone for anything, especially help. But he didn’t say no right off, just let the idea of it all simmer in his tired brain.
Maybe accepting help for something good, something that would, in fact, help others, would be okay. And really, accepting help didn’t mean he required help. All that meant was that he was smart to not go it alone when he didn’t have to. There was logic there. Good, solid logic.
“I’ll accept the materials and the help,” he said. “But I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to move forward again. Might be a few weeks. Might be longer. Can’t say for sure.”
All three Foster men let out a collective sigh, as if they’d been holding their breath in suspense of Gavin’s answer. “We’ll just unload what we have with us, then.” Cole nodded toward the porch. “We’ll leave it here, and you can do with it what you will. And you can always reach me at the sporting goods store. For whatever reason.”
Gavin nodded, unsure of what else to say. If he could say anything else with the lump in his throat. Suddenly, without any warning at all, the world began to look a little different. A little more friendly. And that... Well, that made him think about all those possibilities he kept trying to ignore. Maybe―maybe he needed to reconsider those possibilities.
“I’ll help with the unloading,” he heard himself saying, “And...well, thank you. I’m unaccustomed to such...to folks being so friendly.”
Dylan slapped him on his back and grinned. “Welcome. As I said, you’re one of us now.”
Twenty minutes later, the three men were gone and Gavin had a mess of stuff on his front porch. Some of which he knew he’d use. Some of the rest of it, he wasn’t so sure. But he’d find a way to put all of it to good use, one way or another.
In the kitchen again, Gavin stared at his now-cold bowl of soup, the peanut butter toast, thought about Dylan’s wor
ds—how Gavin was one of them now—and how neither Cole nor Reid had objected or tried to diminish the power of that statement.
Strangely, perhaps, this made him feel...positive. Gave him a good dose of courage.
He didn’t have that sense of fear he so often had, of letting any one of them down. Of not being whatever they thought he should be. Gavin shook his head, wondering how this had happened, how he’d crossed a barrier he’d fought with most of his life.
Haley, of course. All of this had started with her. And in a rush of understanding, a comprehension he hadn’t ever come close to attaining before, something hard and rocklike relaxed deep inside. There wasn’t one damn thing wrong with him.
Which, of course, was the message Haley had tried to get across almost the entire time she’d known him. A message he couldn’t hear, or refused to hear. Until now.
Gavin picked up the slice of toast he’d spread the peanut butter on. Stared at it for a minute, maybe two, folded the toast in half and dunked the sandwich in his soup. Took a large bite, just as Haley had done and...grimaced. Barely managed to swallow the horrible combination of flavors. And then...well, he tipped his head back and laughed.
Long and loud and...joyously.
Nope, he most definitely did not love peanut butter with tomato. He did, however, love the woman who’d inspired him to try. This, too, he let simmer for a moment, wanting to be absolutely sure before he did anything with this thought, this feeling. Before he took a step that he’d back away from. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to Haley ever again.
“Well, dammit all,” he muttered. The knowledge of what faced him, of the action he had to take, didn’t sit well; it wasn’t comfortable or easy. But he had to move forward. Had to dig out those demons from his closet and send them on their way. Forever, this time.
And since there was no sense in procrastinating, Gavin went upstairs to retrieve the envelope his mother had given him. Tore open the flap, read her address and headed out.
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