Making It Right

by Kathy Altman

  “Send him to the apartment above the dress shop, would you? There’s been some property damage. We’ll wait outside. Thanks, Clarissa.” Gil disconnected. “He’s out on a call but he’ll be here soon.”

  “How bad is the bedroom?”

  “Not as bad as the living room.”

  She sagged against the wall. “I can’t believe Dylan would do something like this. This just seems so angry.”

  “He may not have done it. He may not have done anything more than let the others in. But that doesn’t let him off the hook. This is felony vandalism.”

  Kerry wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t have renter’s insurance, and how is it fair to expect Eugenia’s policy to cover this? They’ll raise her premium.”

  Gil didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

  “She’ll be beside herself. She’ll wish she’d never met me. And as for my father...” She pressed a hand to her throat, but it didn’t ease the scratchiness. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that we finally talked. He said he’d forgiven me a long time ago. Even offered to let me move in with him. And now this. What if he changes his mind?”

  “Stop it.” Gil palmed her shoulders and squeezed. “You tried to do a good deed. It failed miserably. Once she gets over the shock, Eugenia will understand.”

  “Yes, because look how her good deed failed. And you just got her check for the baby fund.” She massaged fingertips gone suddenly numb. “Should I call her?”

  “Any way these assholes could have made their way downstairs?”

  “No.” Thank God. “Eugenia locks the door from the other side when she’s done for the day. I already checked it. It’s still locked.”

  “Then I don’t think there’s any need to drag her out of bed. We can give the sheriff all the info he needs.”

  Slowly Kerry shook her head. “One step forward and two steps back. How could I not understand that throwing a conveniently empty apartment and a cupboard full of junk food into the path of an insecure teenage boy was a terrible idea?”

  His hands flexed on her shoulders. “I think you need to stop looking for ways to punish yourself.”

  Kerry eased out of his grip. “You’re saying I’m trying to be a martyr.”

  “I’m saying give yourself a frickin’ break.” He trailed her out to the living room. “You were thinking like a friend, not a parole officer.”

  He hadn’t meant it as a dig, but the crack about the parole officer stung. Kerry wandered back out onto the metal landing and watched for the flashing blue lights of the sheriff’s car. “Why do you have to be so logical?” she muttered.

  Gil moved up behind her. “I’m glad your father forgave you. Now why don’t you try forgiving yourself?”

  She swung around. “You first.”

  “What?”

  “It’s been six years and you still haven’t forgiven yourself for not reconciling with your father before he died. It’s only been two years that I haven’t been able to forgive myself. I know you can do the math.”

  He glowered down at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Six minus two is four. If I follow your example I have at least another four years of not having to forgive myself.”

  He grabbed a handful of railing on either side of her, crowding her into the corner. “You’re trying to piss me off so I’ll storm out of here and leave you to figure out on your own how to fix this crap fest.”

  She doubted he meant for the frustrated rasp of his voice to turn her on. She swallowed. “Did you just say ‘crap fest?’ I say ‘crap fest.’”

  “Lots of people do. Don’t distract me when I’m ranting.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead and leaned back. “Kerry.”

  “What?”

  “You are more than your mistakes. Stop underestimating yourself.”

  His words were half comfort, half rebuke. He followed them with the gentle drag of his fingers down the side of her neck. An effective distraction.

  She swatted at his hand. “You keep giving me advice you need to take yourself.”

  He held up his hands. “This one’s all you. You can’t stay here tonight. After the sheriff takes our statements, you should come home with me. You can have the bed and I’ll take the couch.” When she hesitated, he let go of the railing and eased back a step. “Don’t say you’d rather go to the motel. Joe’s a new father. He needs his sleep. And you don’t want to show up on your dad’s doorstep tonight, do you?”

  Kerry peered up into his Kahlúa-colored eyes, holding her breath. Her brain was still stuttering over the phrase “come home with me.”

  He was so sweet, and she was so tired of holding back. But it seemed wrong to want him so fiercely, to hope he wouldn’t go anywhere near his couch tonight, when the disaster behind them would devastate Eugenia.

  And the fault was as much Kerry’s as it was Dylan’s.

  With his index finger, Gil stabbed at the bridge of his glasses. “After breakfast we’ll come back and tell Eugenia what happened. Together.”

  When she remained mute, his brow wrinkled.

  “Damn it, Kerry.” He pushed the words through clenched teeth. “Now you’re not talking to me?”

  “I’m sorry, I just... I feel so guilty.”

  He sighed, and gathered her against him. “That’s understandable. It’s going to take a lot of work to restore this place. You know I’ll help, right?”

  “That’s very generous. I appreciate that.”

  “Generous.” He exhaled. “You may not realize it, especially after the things I said last night, but you’re important to me.”

  “I’m having your baby.”

  “Kerry.” He set her away from him and shook her once, gently. “You. Are important. To me.”

  Her heart tripped over itself and sparks scattered beneath her skin.

  She opened her mouth to thank him, but lost track of the words when his mouth came down on hers.

  The shock of warm, firm skin and the intimate brush of his breath started a fizzing in her feet that quickly bubbled up her legs and hot-flashed through her body.

  Holy Hannah, this man could kiss.

  And oh, how she’d missed it.

  He gripped her biceps as his tongue swirled around hers. His lips worked hers like he had only seconds to discover their secret. She followed his lead because, dear Lord in heaven, she wanted him to have that secret. She wanted him to have everything. Know everything. Feel everything.

  Then she could feel it, too.

  Except...

  Slowly she withdrew from their embrace. He relaxed his hold on her arms with reluctance, trailing his fingers from her biceps to her elbows, and finally letting his hands drop to his sides.

  Kerry mourned the loss of connection as soon as it was broken. She reached out and pressed a palm to his heart.

  “Even with everything that’s happened here, I want you so much I ache. Please tell me that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  He gave his head a shake. “That makes you a person after my own heart.”

  His voice wobbled on the last word and she was lost.

  She stepped forward and arched into him. With a groan, he widened his stance and pulled her in tighter. They shared a shudder when their hips met and the softness between her legs cradled the hard heat of his erection.

  She was trapped between Gil and the railing, and the cold, hard band across her back nudged her out of her sensual daze. He must have sensed her discomfort because his hands slid from her arms to her hips, then around to her butt where his caresses drove her mad with need. She thrust her hands into his hair. “God, Gil,” she gasped against his mouth. He angled his head the other way and plunged in again. Their deep kisses sent ripples of bliss straight to her core. His groan nearly sent
her over the edge.

  She gripped his neck, his shoulder blades, his back. Clutched at his shirt, desperate to separate it from his jeans so she could touch bare skin. Their coming together was too much, too intense, too frantic to last, but she reveled in the feeling of being wanted, of having nothing else matter but the need between them.

  When the pressure of his mouth eased, she broke away and greedily pulled oxygen into her lungs. “You are so damned good at this.”

  He chuckled unsteadily, then went still. He lifted his head. “Do you hear that?”

  All she heard was the desperate rasp of her own breathing. Gil stepped away, urging silence with an upraised hand. Then she did hear it. Banging. From inside the apartment.

  “Wait here,” he said, and disappeared.

  She did, for as long as it took her to realize she didn’t like being left outside in the near-dark. Cautiously she stepped through the door, stopping to listen when she heard Gil’s voice. She broke into a jog when she realized who he was talking to.

  She followed the voices to the bedroom, where a grim-faced Gil was helping Dylan out of the closet. The teen was red-faced and sweating, soaked head to toe in what smelled like beer and sporting a bloody nose.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “Who did this to you?”

  He stood rigid in her arms, head bent, the occasional choking noise making it clear he was fighting tears. Over Dylan’s head, Kerry locked gazes with Gil, who was rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “It’s okay,” Kerry crooned softly. She kept her eyes on Gil as she rubbed Dylan’s back. “It’ll be okay.”

  Eventually she was able to coax Dylan to sit on the bed.

  “Let me get a washcloth for your face,” she said, but when she started to move away, Dylan reached for her.

  “I’ll do it.” Gil squeezed the boy’s shoulder as he passed.

  Kerry settled next to Dylan on the bed, and placed a tentative hand on his knee. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  He shook his head.

  “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “It was my fault,” he said miserably. “I told them I was here. They showed up and made me let them in.”

  “The boys you’ve been having trouble with at school?”

  He hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod.

  Gil returned with the washcloth. Kerry reached for it, but he handed it to Dylan instead. Oh. Right. The poor kid was already embarrassed enough. The last thing he needed was to be treated like a toddler.

  She shot Gil a grateful smile.

  Dylan ran the washcloth over his face, then folded it tightly between his hands. “Do you have to call the police?”

  Gil grabbed a chair from the corner, pulled it close and sat. “We already did.”

  Dylan’s hands flexed on the washcloth. “They’re going to ask for names.”

  “Somebody has to be held accountable,” Gil said. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “These boys who came over. They’re classmates of yours?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “Do they live around here?”

  A shrug this time.

  Kerry watched Gil closely. What was he getting at?

  Gil rubbed at an imaginary spot on his khakis. “If these boys are your classmates, they’re too young to drive. So how did they get here?”

  The dismay on Dylan’s face was almost comical.

  Gil reached out and patted the side of the teen’s knee. “Dylan. You owe me a solid. You’d be doing Kerry one, too, by telling the truth about what happened here tonight.”

  Kerry gave her head a bemused shake. Oh, he was good. He was really, really good.

  Dylan was shaking his head, too, but not in admiration. “Dad’s going to hate me.”

  Gil frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  “’Cause we need his paycheck.”

  “Whose paycheck?”

  “How’re we going to buy medicine if my brother’s in jail?”

  Kerry closed her eyes and swallowed against a suddenly scratchy throat. This poor kid had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “Why did your brother lock you in the closet?” she asked huskily.

  “He said it would make it look more like those dicks from school did this.”

  Kerry and Gil shared a half appalled, half amused look.

  “I’m sorry,” Dylan croaked. “I asked my brother for a ride and he said he might hang for a while, you know, watch TV and stuff. Then he showed up with all his friends and they had beer and some of ’em were already drunk. When I kept yelling that they had to go, they took my phone and grabbed me and—” He broke off on a sob and buried his face in his elbow.

  A sympathetic burn plagued the backs of Kerry’s eyes as she rubbed slow, soothing circles along Dylan’s spine.

  “Hello?” Someone hollered from the front door. “Sheriff’s Department.”

  With one last, violent shudder, Dylan dropped his arm, and inhaled. He thrust the washcloth at Kerry and got to his feet.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” he said raggedly.

  “Be right out,” Gil called, then palmed Dylan’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. At all. But you and I both know you’re going to end up paying for it somehow. Contributing more money to the household, or just being there for your dad because your brother can’t... It isn’t fair, but that’s what happens when someone in the family screws up.”

  Dylan swiped at his cheeks. “I might have to quit school,” he whispered.

  “You can’t,” Gil said firmly. “You have to be sixteen. Even then, don’t do it.”

  Slowly Kerry got to her feet. Her entire body sagged under the weight of the poor choices she’d made, including loaning Eugenia’s key to Dylan. “You can’t sacrifice your education.”

  Gil bent his knees so he and the teen were eye to eye. “Don’t take this all on yourself. Quitting school would be following one bad decision with another. Of course you can help, but don’t let it become your life. That’s not your responsibility. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You can forgive your brother. It might take a while, but you can do it. It’s better for you, better for your family. But that doesn’t mean you have to forget what happened here tonight.”

  “Okay,” Dylan repeated, more steadily this time.

  “Good man.” Gil held up his fist for a bump. “We can talk more later.”

  Kerry followed Dylan and Gil out of the room, wishing she’d had at twenty-five half the guts this kid had at fourteen.

  * * *

  GIL UNFASTENED AND refastened the top button of his shirt as he followed Kerry up the metal staircase, this time the one leading to his apartment. After working at the store all day and spending most of the evening on the road, then dealing with Kerry and Dylan and a grumpy sheriff afterward, Gil should be beat. He wasn’t. Instead his entire body throbbed with an electric urgency he was doing his damnedest to hide. Because it felt wrong, after all they’d just been through, to hope he’d have Kerry in his bed for what was left of the night.

  And though she’d said she wanted him, she could very well change her mind.

  Even if she didn’t, he should let her sleep. They were both shell-shocked. Neither had said anything since Sheriff Suazo had driven away with Dylan in the back of his cruiser.

  They’d tried to convince JD to let them drive Dylan home themselves. Spare his father seeing one kid get out of the police car only to have the other escorted into it. But the sheriff had wanted more time with Dylan. How could they argue when the alternative was taking the kid down to the station?

  As they reached the landing and Gil pushed the door open, Kerry stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 
“Those things you said to Dylan back there.”

  Gil grimaced. “I shouldn’t have thrown all that at him. Not on top of everything else he was trying to process.”

  “You did a fine job, and it was very brave of you. Gil Cooper, you are full of surprises.”

  He stared down at her, at her wide, sincere eyes and earnest, moonlit face, and his fingers tightened painfully around his keys. “I missed the opportunity to be brave a long time ago.” Somehow he managed to push the words past the cramping in his throat. “But thanks for being on my side.”

  “I thought we made a good team.” She sighed. “I feel so bad for him.”

  “He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

  She squeezed his arm tighter and she let her head drop to his shoulder. “I’m scared to death.”

  He knew exactly what she meant. “You know what scares me more than the prospect of being a father?” He wrapped his arms around her and spoke into her hair. “That you’ll leave. Just as I’m looking forward to the baby. Just as I’m realizing I love you.”

  Her head came up. “Gil,” she breathed.

  “You said you were already halfway in love with me. Please tell me I didn’t ruin that.”

  Her arms trembled as she wound them around his neck. “You didn’t,” she whispered. “But you can forget about the halfway part.”

  “Thank God.” He closed his eyes against a surge of tears and rocked her gently. “I was sure I’d blown it.”

  “I love you, Gil. That’s not going to change.”

  “That’s good,” he said gruffly. “Because a lot in our lives is about to.”

  “Maybe we should take this one day at a time.” She kissed his chin. “It’s when we get too far ahead of ourselves that things get complicated.”

  Disappointment flared, but she was right. There was nothing wrong with slow.

  “Slow can be good,” he said aloud.

  Her smile was half bashful, half coy as she took his hand. “Remind me.”

  He’d never crossed his threshold so fast.

  Inside, even before he could ask if she’d like something to drink, she pressed up against him. It didn’t take him long to realize it wasn’t in a good way.