For Joy's Sake

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by Tara Taylor Quinn


  It used to turn him on.

  “Positive,” he said. “Like I said, I have to work tonight.”

  “Because you’ve been playing with her when you should’ve been working?” Now there was doubt in her voice.

  He didn’t need this. He wished he could tell her that a woman had just died. At the hands of her own brother. For doing nothing more than loving him and his family.

  Wanted to tell her a woman was missing, a young mother.

  But he was afraid she wouldn’t care. That she wouldn’t see what it had to do with her. With them.

  Truth was, it didn’t have anything to do with them.

  But it had a lot to do with him. If he told her, he expected she’d ask why, and he didn’t know what his answer should be. He couldn’t predict the long-term ramifications, either.

  In that moment, his time with Mandy, their relationship, seemed superficial to the point of waste.

  He acknowledged that it wasn’t fair to her. She was a nice woman. Easygoing. Fun-loving. And exactly like him. Like he used to be.

  Like he would be again when things settled down?

  He couldn’t deny the possibility, but didn’t think he’d ever be the man he’d been before he met Julie Fairbanks. He’d been living in ignorance—of so much.

  One thing was for certain. He couldn’t have Mandy maligning Julie, or his time with her, in any way. “I haven’t been playing. At all,” he finally said.

  “I saw you today.”

  “You did? Where?” He hadn’t seen her.

  “You drove down to Oxnard. Stopped for ice cream.”

  She was right. He had. With Joy—and Julie. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was familiar with the homemade ice cream shop because it was close to Mandy’s favorite coffee place. And that she often stopped there on her way home from the hair salon where she worked. He hadn’t given any thought to the fact that Friday was her early day, either. He’d known it, just hadn’t thought about it.

  “You were with her, Hunter. And some kid. A little girl. Hers, I’m guessing.”

  Shit. Now what?

  “The little girl is my second cousin,” he said, because it seemed the most innocuous answer that came to mind.

  “You have relatives in town that you see?”

  Nope. Hadn’t been a good answer, after all. Nothing else he came up with was any better.

  “My uncle’s in town. Visiting.”

  “But you didn’t think maybe I’d like to meet him? Or you didn’t want him to meet me.”

  This was going all wrong. Fast.

  “Come on, Sexy, this is me! And you! We don’t make it complicated, right?” That’s what they’d always said. What had always drawn them to each other. “I’ve never met a member of your family. Hell, I don’t even know what family you have!”

  “You ever stop to think that I didn’t make it complicated because that’s the way you wanted it, Hunter? All these years, I’ve been hanging around, willing to hang out, waiting for you to be ready...”

  What the hell?

  “You said you didn’t want commitment. You didn’t want a relationship. You just wanted someone you could trust, to have fun with...” He hadn’t dreamed that all up. She’d said it. Every word. Many times.

  “I said that, yes. Because I knew that it was what you wanted. And you were worth the wait. But damn it, Hunter! After all these years of being your fallback girl, it’s not right that when you finally decide to have a real girlfriend, it’s not me.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “You’ve never lied to me before.”

  “I’m not lying now.”

  “So...meet me at Yank’s tonight. Convince me.”

  There was no way he could do that. Not now, knowing she was in way deeper than he was.

  This was exactly what he hadn’t intended to do to her.

  “It’s not going to work, Mandy.” One thing he knew was that when a bandage had to come off, it had to be done quickly. “I’m clearly not what you’re looking for.”

  If he ever did settle down—and that was a huge if—it wouldn’t be with her.

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  Rip it off. Quick.

  “I’m not in love with you.”

  “How do you know? We’ve never tried to be that couple. Where you’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “We’ve been hanging out for years. Don’t you think, if I was going to fall in love with you, I’d know?”

  “You love her.”

  “I do not.” It took him a second to realize he didn’t have to ask who “her” was. Because there was only one “her” in his world.

  “Wow. I turn my back for a second and that’s it. I’m dumped out like the trash.”

  “That’s not true.” And it wasn’t like her to react this way. Mandy really had been the most easygoing woman. He hadn’t just imagined that. “What’s going on, Man?”

  “She’s rich. I’m not. I get it. I see what you’re doing. I don’t even blame you. But...it’s not right. You can’t do this to me.”

  He could. He had to. “You’ve been lying to me, Mandy. About what you really wanted. We said we’d always be honest with each other, and you haven’t been.”

  He wasn’t even sure how he felt about that.

  He wasn’t devastated. He wasn’t...much of anything. Except bothered. Which made him feel kind of sick.

  “This is the end, isn’t it? You’ve moved on, and there’s nothing I can say or do to change that.”

  “I haven’t moved on. But I think we need to call it quits,” he told her. Julie or no, Mandy wasn’t the person he’d taken her for all these years. He accepted half the blame for that. He hadn’t looked at her hard enough to know who she really was.

  He hadn’t wanted to know.

  “Yeah, well, thanks for the good times, Hunter.”

  “We had a lot of them.”

  “Yep.”

  “I wish things were different.”

  “Do you? Somehow I don’t think so.”

  “I enjoyed spending time with you.” He felt he owed her something, some kindness, some expression of gratitude. He just couldn’t figure out what it should be. You were great in bed, wasn’t it.

  “Let’s just stop, Hunter, before this gets any worse.”

  They’d hit rock bottom; it seemed they agreed on that much. Feeling like he’d failed her, and himself, he wished her well and hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  JULIE WAS SITTING at her desk in the office beside her studio just after ten on Friday night when her phone rang. She’d been going over a list of items needed, along with quantities, for the Thanksgiving dinner Sunshine Children’s League was hosting at a children’s home in LA. With the extra money made the night before, they’d not only be able to take care of the entire dinner at several homeless shelters, as well, but they could afford to provide little gifts for each of the Sunshine kids, too. She’d talked Colin and Chantel into joining her, and they were going to have dinner with the Sunshine kids that Thanksgiving.

  Her phone almost rang a second time before she picked up.

  “Hi.” She’d wondered if he’d call. In her weaker moments that evening, she’d actually hoped that he would.

  She’d wanted to speak with him—but wouldn’t call him. It didn’t feel right when she had so little to offer him in return.

  “You’re a late-nighter, too,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Until this past week, those had always been lonely hours in her life.

  “What did you do tonight?”

  “Sat with Chantel while she had her first bout of morning sickness. Colin had a dinner with some clients.”

  Leavi
ng her desk, she curled up on the silk floral couch, looking out toward the pool. Such an inane conversation shouldn’t mean so much. Good thing she had her mind to keep her emotions on track.

  “How was the hospital event?” she asked next. He’d mentioned that was where he’d be going as they walked out to their cars at the Stand.

  “Really well. We had a fifties theme, with a Platters tribute band that’s phenomenal. I’ve used them before. The dance floor was full. Pledges were plentiful, in addition to the plate charge. The hospital is going to get its new playroom. And I’ve got more prospective work.”

  “Do you have time for that?” The man seemed to work seven days a week.

  “Kyle wants to do more on his own. If all goes well, we can hire another event manager and handle twice the business.”

  “But what about time off?”

  “He’s off two days a week. All three of them are.” She’d met Trina and Bob, too.

  “What about you? The ultimate party guy? When do you ever take a full day off?”

  He wanted a friend, so she’d be the best one she could.

  “Whenever I want.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you don’t want to tell me, say so. Tell me to mind my own business. I can take it...” Her tone was teasing. She meant the words. Kind of. Considering everything else they couldn’t share, she didn’t want any pretense between them about the things they did.

  “I honestly don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “That’s too long.”

  When he didn’t respond for a moment, she asked, “What? You got all quiet.”

  “It just occurred to me that I didn’t take time off because there was nothing I’d rather be doing than work.”

  She knew the feeling. Which was fine for her. Sounded sad for him, though. Especially since life all around him was filled with fun and with exciting things to do.

  “It’s good that you love what you do so much.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Loving your work, I mean?” His word hadn’t said so. His tone had implied it.

  “I was thinking that this week, there’ve been a few times I was doing something I’d rather be doing than work.”

  Oh. Her turn for silence. Just as well he couldn’t see her smile. Or the way her lower lip was trembling.

  Another aftereffect from her attack. She’d become a weeper.

  “Anyway, the reason I called...”

  He paused. She held her breath. If he asked her out, would she go? She wanted to. He already knew what she couldn’t offer, what she couldn’t do. He’d said that was okay.

  When she heard a noise in the background, she sat up. “Where are you?”

  “In my kitchen.”

  “I heard something.”

  “I just got home. Threw my keys on the counter.”

  Was it wrong that she wished she was there? Making him eggs in his kitchen?

  “So...you said you called for a reason?”

  “What do you think of this whole Edward and Joy thing? You think she’ll be okay going with him? He’s been through so much. Losing his wife. And then Cara. And now Cara again. He’s alone.”

  Hunter was worried. She loved that. Not him. That.

  The thought had her pulling back. Mentally. Telling her emotions to do the same.

  “Lila’s the greatest,” Julie told him. “She’ll take care of the transition process. And she’ll know who to call if there’s a problem. I’m going to talk to Joy about Edward tomorrow. I’ll draw pictures of Edward and her doing things together. I’ve already sketched them out. During the hour or so Chantel was napping after dinner.”

  “I’m glad he’s ended up with her.”

  “It’s the best thing that could’ve come out of this whole situation,” she said. “Joy had to get out of that abusive home, and with Edward having no idea what was going on, no way to contact Cara since she’d blocked his phone and social media accounts, Joy didn’t have a chance. Now...the sky’s the limit.”

  Assuming Cara was found—and came home to her father.

  “What if Cara decides not to accept her father back into her life?” Hunter asked.

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  “If Shawn’s found he’ll be in jail for his sister’s murder,” she went on. “Social services are involved. I think she’d have a hard time keeping Edward out of her life.”

  But it could happen. Because life came with no guarantees.

  He was going to hang up soon. He’d have things to do. She didn’t want to let him go. A precursor to what their relationship was going to look like in the future? Hunter coming into and out of her much smaller world. With her being grateful to have him there.

  And mourning his loss a little bit every time he left.

  “I need to talk to you.” His words sounded ominous.

  “I’m listening.”

  She heard something else in the background. Sounded like voices. “Are you a late-night TV watcher?” she asked, eager to prolong their conversation, to know the details of his life. Avoiding whatever the real reason was for his call.

  When someone said “I need to talk to you” it generally wasn’t good.

  “I don’t even have cable, I watch so little TV,” he told her. “I’ve got music on.”

  “In your kitchen?” She liked that he’d have music in his kitchen.

  “I’m in my den. I have my shoes, jacket and pants off. Still wearing my shirt. The tails are wrinkled. At the moment I’m walking from the entertainment system to my favorite chair—a recliner that I use when I’m working late—and I just opened a beer.”

  It was like he’d tossed her a ball, challenging her to return it. “What about socks?”

  “I own some.”

  “On or off?”

  “On.”

  She had another question. One a girlfriend could ask. Not that it mattered whether he was wearing boxers or briefs. His wrinkled shirt tails were covering them anyway.

  “I need to get something clear between us.” Wow, for a party guy he was gloom and doom that night.

  She didn’t want him to tell her that he didn’t want to be her friend.

  But she also knew she didn’t have the right to stop him. And had to quit stalling him.

  “I’m listening, Hunter. Whatever it is, just say it.” No more fooling around. Getting up, she went to her little refrigerator and pulled out a single serving bottle of wine.

  Uncapped it. Sipped.

  “I need it clear between us, and particularly clear to you, that I’m not the guy who’s always going to be there.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve heard the saying that ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going’?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, when the going gets tough, Hunter heads out.”

  “Okay.” So he was telling her he was out? She was too...damaged for him? Too much angst. Too much drama.

  She couldn’t argue with that. She agreed. Wholeheartedly. So she paced her office.

  “That’s it?” He sounded...kind of put out.

  “I was waiting for you to finish.” She moved into her studio.

  “I did.”

  Frowning, she took another sip of wine, and asked, “What do you mean, that’s it? You haven’t said anything yet. At least nothing you haven’t said a boring number of times before. You think you can’t be relied on to hang around through the hard stuff. Your actions show me that sometimes you can. So what else is there?”

  “What do you mean, what else is there?”

  “You aren’t trying to tell me you’re regretting y
our offer of friendship?” The wine let her say it. Or so she told herself.

  “What?”

  “You aren’t trying to tell me that, now that Joy’s future is secure, you’re rethinking the whole idea of us staying in contact afterward?” She turned, headed back to the office.

  “Hell, no!”

  Oh. Well, then. She settled on to a corner of the couch. Pictured him in his shirttails. Those long legs of his bare, with the dark masculine hair that would be covering them.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, softening her tone. It was one she’d use if she was talking to Colin. Or Chantel. Or Joy.

  “My whole life, Julie, I’m the guy who goes surfing. I’ve accepted that about myself, and I just need you to know it. Don’t count on me. I’ll disappoint you at some stage.”

  Was he trying to let her down gently, after all? Didn’t want to be her friend? It wasn’t as though she’d even asked anything of him. Had she?

  And still, he obviously felt the weight of her need.

  She couldn’t leave it there. “I don’t understand why you’re saying this. Have I given you cause to think I’m too needy? Trust me, Hunter. I can fully take care of myself. Which is what I’ve been trying to cram into my big brother’s head. Yes, I have issues. Yes, there are some things that challenge me. I know what those things are. I take care to tend to them. I make sure I have safeguards in place so I can deal with whatever comes into my life. I don’t need you, or anyone else, to make me feel okay.”

  She might have said more, so she stuffed the tip of the wine bottle in her mouth. Tipped it, too.

  “Obviously I hit a hot button, which I’m going to come back to at some point, but you missed what I was saying.”

  Oh. She wiped at the dribble of wine on her chin. It wasn’t easy to drink with the entire tip of the bottle between your lips.

  “My parents fought.”

  Hers hadn’t. She’d had a blessed childhood. For which she was so thankful. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But the thing is, from when I was really little, every time they did, I’d turn my back. I’d leave. Mom would ask me to confirm something that had been said, and even if I could, even if I knew that Dad had actually said what she thought, or more often, that she’d told him something he claimed she hadn’t, I stayed out of it. With him, it was usually some chore he was supposed to have done and hadn’t, or someplace he was supposed to show up and didn’t. Whatever it was, I’d just get the hell out. I wouldn’t even bother with the answer.”

 

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