by Angel Smits
Stepping into the store, he saw Hank sprawled on the floor, with Amy kneeling beside him. Jace might have let the relief he felt at finding Amy safe take hold, if it weren’t for the reek of alcohol that hung in the air.
Hank was soused. Flat-out, stinking drunk. The sour scent of a pickled drunk brought back too many painful memories. Jace tried to shove those images away, though they lurked at the edge of his mind, threatening to pull him under. He wasn’t sure which ones bothered him most—those of sobering up Mac, or of sobering up himself.
Amy hovered beside Hank, looking scared and uncertain. She shouldn’t have to deal with this. And for the first time, Jace was glad she hadn’t known her father.
Jace was still breathing hard when he hunkered down beside the two of them. “Hey, old man.”
“Jace? Whatchoo doin’ here?” Hank stared at them, his eyes heavy lidded. He blinked several times, as if trying to find his bearings. With a deep groan, he tried to sit up. “How’d I get here?” His words were slurred, but there was a hint of sobriety in his eyes.
Amy shrugged.
“You have a reason for this? Or is getting drunk normal?” Jace glanced over at Amy. Was this what she’d grown up with? He didn’t think so, if the shock on her pale face was any indication.
“I ain’t had a drink in nearly twenty years,” Hank said.
“So, you decided to start again tonight?” Must be one hell of a reason.
Hank actually had the presence of mind to look chagrinned. “You don’t know nothin’, boy,” he groused, attempting to stand. Before he fell on his face and busted something, Jace shot to his feet and wound his arm around the other man’s waist.
“I know plenty. Been there, done that....” He wasn’t going into any more detail, though his mind was a Technicolor memory show.
Hank looked up at Jace with a grimace. “You gonna tell Amy?”
“I think she knows.”
Hank looked over at Amy as if just seeing her, and his face flushed. “Oh.” He didn’t say any more. He started moving, and with Jace’s help stumbled a few steps to flop down in one of the bistro chairs. The wood groaned in protest.
Hank looked ready to doze off, and Jace wanted to let him. But that wasn’t an option. Amy had to open for business in a few hours.
Before their trip, Hank had been in the store. Jace had heard him and Amy talking, but she hadn’t said anything about it. She’d been upset, he’d known that. Had Hank given her grief about her involvement with him? Hank’s opinion mattered to Amy, which made Jace dread what the old man might have said tonight.
“We sold the ranch,” Hank whispered, his voice dissolving into an alcohol-laced sob. “Maddie’s house.”
“What?” Amy stepped forward.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “We got an offer. A good one. It’s done now.” His big shoulders shook with his grief.
Jace was confused. Wasn’t that the goal? “Why is that a bad thing?”
Something told him this wasn’t going to be good. Not good at all.
* * *
AMY HADN’T SEEN HANK since before they’d left for Phoenix. It had been only two days, but it felt like years...and he looked years older. Now he sat here in her store, drunk and shattered. She’d never seen him like this before.
“Hank?” She stepped over to her old friend. He sighed and looked past her. He started to get up, but Jace stopped him.
“You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
“I know that,” he shouted. “Just get the damned papers.”
Amy and Jace turned around and saw a pile of crumpled papers on the floor where Hank had fallen. Amy picked them up and tried to straighten them.
At first it didn’t register. “An offer?” she repeated. “From the sheriff?” The papers made it seem real. Too real.
“His uncle, Eustace. You remember him?” Hank cleared his throat. “It’s a good deal, girl.” He paused. “Too bad it’s from that bastard.”
Amy moved back beside Hank and pressed the papers flat on the tabletop. The legalese blurred and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked quickly, trying to clear her vision. “It’s legit?”
Hank simply nodded.
He would understand the emotions rolling through her, she knew. He’d lived there, too. She knew why he’d started drinking. Too bad she didn’t have the same escape. It would be tempting right now.
Images from the past assaulted her. Shadowy images of her grandfather. Of her mother. Of the hours they’d spent in the big hacienda kitchen. Happy times. But also memories of the loneliness of a little girl living out in the desert with only a few horses, a dog and a bunch of cowhands for playmates. Of her mother’s fading into the illness she couldn’t beat. Of leaving the only home she’d ever known. Of Matt’s betrayal and all he’d destroyed.
The world seemed to spin and Amy looked at Jace. His frown told her he didn’t understand what was going on. She didn’t know how to make him understand, or if she even wanted him to. She trembled, and Jace’s hands gripped her shoulders. He guided her into the chair opposite Hank.
“I can’t do it, girl.” The old cowboy slumped in his chair, his sobs returning.
“Can’t do what?” Dread rocked through her.
“I can’t face that house again.”
“But you’ve been taking care of it since Mom died.”
“I can’t take it apart. I just can’t do it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s just like she left it.”
“Everything’s still there?” Amy shot to her feet. “I thought you’d cleaned it out years ago.”
“I meant to. Every time I go out there, it’s like visiting her. Getting rid of everything would be... I can’t.”
“But, Hank...you promised you’d do that.” She sounded as whiney as Katie right now. But Amy felt like a little girl all over again.
“I tried, damn it.” Hank slammed a fist on the table and Jace stepped closer.
Amy put a hand on Jace’s arm to make him stay put. His strength under her palm was reassuring. “You tried? How did you try?”
Hank got slowly to his feet, lurching forward, startling her. Jace wouldn’t let her hold him back anymore. He pushed her aside and grasped Hank’s shirtfront.
“What aren’t you saying, old man?”
“Nothing that’s your business.” Hank shoved at Jace’s fists, but to no avail. “It’s bad enough I had to clean up your mess.” He glared at Amy. “I can’t do it for my Maddie.”
“My mess?” Amy’s voice quavered. What was he talking about?
Jace shook Hank. “Answer her.”
“You want him to know? Fine.” Hank was angry now, angrier than she’d ever seen him. “I know who Katie’s father is. Why do you think he sends those checks every month?” He pulled away from Jace and faced her. “I made sure his football career didn’t last another day.”
Amy gasped. Oh, God. What had Hank done? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. She didn’t have to.
“I’ve still got some buddies in Phoenix. They paid him a visit.” Hank stumbled toward her, but Jace stepped between them.
“Oh, Hank.” Amy tried to blink away her tears. “What did you do?”
He actually laughed. “The knees are the first to go with those gridiron boys, you know.”
Amy wanted to scream, wanted to flail at him. How could he have been so stupid? But she was frozen where she stood.
“Get the hell out of here,” Jace said.
She watched with unfocused eyes as Hank made his way to the shop door. Jace unlocked it and nearly shoved him into the street.
Amy had no idea what happened next until she felt Jace’s arms enfold her. And then she did exactly what she’d sworn to never do. She turned in his arms and leane
d on him.
* * *
LATER, AFTER HANK was sleeping it off in his room, Jace started to walk again. This time away from Amy and her store. Away from all the insanity. He stood at the edge of town staring out, not sure what he was looking for. He’d left L.A. thinking he’d return in a few days. That was a couple of weeks ago. The man he’d been then was very different from the one standing here now.
All around him, the desert was filled with life...and punctuated by death. The terrain fascinated him. All he’d ever seen of it before was from TV or books. He’d expected the Sahara, not this hilly, vibrant environment. He’d never expected the wildlife, the plant life, the people.
The best part of the day here was early morning, before the sun baked everything. He wondered what it would be like when summer hit full force. Just thinking about it filled him with curiosity.
The distant silhouettes of the town’s tiny cemetery accented the ridge a short distance away. Desert cemeteries were vastly different from the lush, grass-covered places Jace had known back home. And they were nothing like the fancy, money-watered lawns in L.A. This was a dirt-and-cactus-laden square. A metal fence surrounded the graves and a gateway arched over the dirt road that ran through it. Stone and wood markers dotted the sand and many of the graves were covered with rocks. The graveyard looked desolate and forgotten, though he knew it wasn’t.
Madeline Grey was up there. He had a hell of a lot of questions for that woman.
Last night had been hell. Years of grief and too much alcohol had made Hank nearly impossible to deal with. The things he’d said, had admitted...
And Amy... She’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep sometime before dawn. Thank God Katie had obeyed and gone back to bed. She’d been sound asleep when he’d looked in on her.
Jace hadn’t slept. That’s why he was out here, trying to quiet the chaos in his mind.
He wanted to go back to the Grand Canyon, and take Amy and Katie with him. But that wasn’t possible. Amy had responsibilities here. And now she had a house to clean out for the new owner.
Jace wasn’t used to obligations or responsibilities. He hadn’t found a place he’d felt this connected to, or any people he’d let himself care about before.
Even now, he saw someone up at the cemetery, preparing a grave. He hadn’t heard of anyone dying, but he didn’t know everyone here. Time and events passed him by. He had no part in any of it.
Turning on his heel, Jace headed back. He swung by Lynne’s house to pick up his bike. As he approached it from behind, he saw red glass on the ground, and he cursed. A broken taillight wasn’t a difficult fix, just a pain. As he drew closer, he saw the pink piece of paper attached to the windshield. He cursed again. Really? A citation? For a broken taillight when the bike wasn’t moving? It didn’t take much imagination to guess who’d most likely broken the light—he’d signed the ticket. Jace sighed.
Voices carried on the morning air, and Jace looked across the alley to Amy’s place. Katie wasn’t even trying to be quiet.
“That’s not fair.”
Was she crying? He walked toward the store.
“I’m sorry, Katie. But fair has nothing to do with it. I can’t do that.” Amy’s voice sounded as pained as Katie’s.
“But everyone expects me to have a party as good as Britany’s.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s so. Lisa didn’t have a big birthday party, either.”
There was a long silence. “She wanted one. Her mom’s mean, too.”
“Katie Anne,” Amy admonished. “That’s no way to talk. Now get ready for school. You’ll miss the bus.”
“I don’t care.” Katie stomped to her room as only a six-year-old could.
Amy came up the stairs and stepped out on the porch.
“Morning,” Jace said. He tried to smile, but it was difficult. The exhaustion and dejection on her face were too painful to see. She didn’t look much better than when Hank had left last night.
The dark circles under her eyes made her look sad and fragile. Jace stepped forward and she took a step back.
It was going to be a very long day.
* * *
THE SOUND OF JACE’S VOICE had become so familiar. Too familiar. Still, as it floated up the stairs, Amy found herself waiting for more. Right now, he was finishing up the final steps to connect the stove—and patiently listening to Katie’s incessant yammering.
Her daughter had gone straight down to the kitchen as soon as she’d gotten home from school. She hadn’t even stopped to talk to Amy. She’d barely given Butcher his customary pat on the head.
She was still angry about the birthday party.
How had everything gone so crazy so quickly? Amy’s time with Jace at the Grand Canyon seemed ages ago. Everything was falling apart and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it.
She tried to focus on her work, but every few minutes she heard Jace. He’d ask Katie to hand him something. A wrench. A screwdriver. Anything. His patience seemed endless.
He’d become a part of her world, and Amy mentally cursed. This wasn’t what she wanted. She needed to be independent. Needed to be the strong one.
But last night, with Hank, she’d wanted Jace to take care of everything. She’d ached for him to make it all right. And he had. She should have taken care of it herself.
Closing her eyes, she remembered how comforting his arms had felt. But every time she’d trusted other people, they’d let her down...gloriously.
She didn’t have time for pain or remorse or tears. She had a daughter who depended on her, a business to run, a house to empty.
She envied Katie her innocence, her fearlessness, her safe world. She’d given her that safety, and each day she feared that someone would shatter it, take that innocence and replace it with mistrust and pain. Just like Hank had done to Amy last night.
She stopped that train of thought as soon as it started.
The problem wasn’t just Hank. It was Jace, too. What if he left? What if things didn’t work out between them? She had to face the facts. He lived on the road or in some apartment in Los Angeles. A whole different world from here. He wasn’t meant for life in a small town like this, not for an extended period of time. And she couldn’t afford to depend on him. She wouldn’t survive his leaving if she did.
Katie’s laughter cut through the quiet, and Jace laughed in response. Something inside Amy shifted. Something that scared the hell out of her.
Before she could move away from the top of the stairs, Jace appeared at the bottom. Slowly, he started to climb, and all too quickly he was only inches away from her. He didn’t speak. He stood there, motionless.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally whispered.
“Like what?” she whispered back.
And then he kissed her—and Amy stopped thinking. She melted against him, her arms circling his neck.
He’d invaded her heart and she didn’t know how to let him go. But she hastily backed away from him, stepped out of the next move of the dance they’d unwittingly begun. “I...” She looked up at him, watching the confusion slip over his features. “I can’t.” She continued backing away, heading to the tiny office, hoping a customer would come in to distract her.
She prayed Jace wouldn’t follow her. He didn’t, and she cursed her disappointment.
Moments later, Katie came upstairs instead of Jace. “Mama?”
“Just a minute, honey,” Amy called. She leaned against the door and came face-to-face with her own reflection in the tiny mirror she kept there. Her hair was a mess from his hands, coming loose from the ponytail she’d done up this morning. Her eyes were wide and her lips... She refused to look at the traitorous lips that had so enjoyed kissing him.
The woman in the mirror looked...vulnerable. No. Amy pushed away from t
he door and yanked it open. She would never, ever be vulnerable again. Ever.
“I’m right here, sweetie,” she called, using her best I’m-the-competent-mother voice.
“What’s Jace makin’?” Katie asked.
“Making?”
“Yeah.” Katie grabbed her hand and pulled, forcing Amy to follow or have her fingers yanked off.
Chin high and her shoulders back, she let Katie lead her down to the kitchen. Jace stood at the new stove, a frying pan already warming. The hamburger she’d pulled out to defrost earlier sat on the cutting board in neat little patties.
It all looked too perfect to be true.
Slowly, she turned around, taking it all in. “It’s done?”
“Dinner or the kitchen?” Jace asked. “But yeah, tonight we’re celebrating.” He handed her a wineglass with milk in it. He lifted a matching glass and clinked it with hers. “Yes, the remodel is done. And dinner soon will be.”
He looked at her as if just moments before he hadn’t been kissing her senseless and she hadn’t pulled away from him.
“Are those real hamburgers?” Katie gazed at the pan.
He glanced down and laughed. “No, it’s those fake plastic ones from your play kitchen,” he teased. “Of course real ones.”
“Yippee!” She laughed and left the kitchen. “I’ll get washed up.”
Amy stared after her daughter. She usually had to threaten her with bodily harm to get her near water. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
Jace gave an exaggerated theatrical bow. “Jace Holmes. Chef for the night, and new-stove tester,” he said, then turned back to his cooking. He put the three thick patties into the pan, where they sizzled, and tossed a sheet of tinfoil over the top.
“Frying is bad for your cholesterol,” she said absently.
“Yeah? But it tastes so good.” He looked over his shoulder at her, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. He focused on her lips.
She swallowed, fighting the urge to go to him. He’d turn around and...