People had triggers. Even olfactory ones. He’d learned that much in college. With his bachelor’s degree in psychology.
And Julie—her trigger was any hint of sexual assault. That wasn’t ever going to change.
Nor was the fact that he’d just been arrested for the very same thing.
Didn’t matter if he’d done it or not.
She’d had doubt put in her mind. It would plague her.
He got it.
Joy sat on the couch, looking up at him, her head cocked to the side. She handed him a book.
One of the Amy books she was always carrying around with her. The one about a little girl who was afraid of her shadow.
He had nothing else for her, no tricks to pull out of his imaginary hat, so he sat down and read the book to her.
It was really pretty good. Exceptional for a children’s book, if you asked him. Childlike and innocent. Full of funny pictures and color and words that, when he read them, sounded almost like song. But it talked about real things that a lot of children faced. The fear of what was lurking behind you. Or waiting ahead of you. The anguish of not understanding.
When he finished the book, Joy was studying him, her brown eyes serious. She didn’t seem frantic, though. Or frightened. She just seemed...serious. Calmly serious.
She handed him another book.
It was almost as though he was on trial with her. As though she knew he’d been arrested and was trying to figure out if he was innocent or guilty.
But he knew that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know anything about his day. Or his life in general. So he took the book she handed him.
And read it aloud.
This one was about food. Healthy food and food that grown-ups made you eat. Food you liked. And about sneaking too much candy and getting sick. In the end, though, Amy was sick because of her guilty conscience for sneaking the candy, not for eating it.
He actually smiled as he gave the book back to Joy. He could see why she was so fond of Amy and liked that the little girl was so discerning.
He started to feel...hopeful again. For Edward. For Joy. For a world that brought Joys and Edwards together.
Joy handed him yet another book. He had to go. Get showered, especially now that he’d been in jail, and put on his tux. Then he had the drive to Santa Barbara.
He read the book quickly, getting through the first couple of pages without pausing to study the pictures. He didn’t want to disappoint Joy, but he had to leave.
By the last few pages, he’d forgotten why he needed to head out. This Amy book was about doubts. About a little girl who got her feelings hurt. Who thought her mother didn’t love her when she was naughty. And that her Sunday School teacher didn’t think she was good enough because she fell asleep during the class. She believed other kids didn’t like her because she had a big brother who was better than theirs. In the end, Amy finds out that all those fears were just her head playing tricks on her. She learns that everyone has an inner voice that tells them things about themselves—to keep them from getting too selfish. But that those things aren’t always real.
Good God. Little Amy knew something Hunter had never figured out. That doubts could be good. But that they weren’t the only thing. Or even the most real.
Doubt kept a man hardworking. Honest. Aware.
And a woman, too.
“This is a really good book,” Hunter said, coughing as his voice cracked. He caught Edward’s glance. The older man had been sitting in a chair across from them the whole time, and the look in his eye was direct. As though he was speaking to Hunter.
“Amy’s a smart little girl,” he said now.
Joy was watching him. She smiled at Edward and nodded.
Hunter had to go. He wanted to take the book with him, which was stupid as hell. He wasn’t going to take it from Joy. From the Stand.
He didn’t need a children’s book.
He looked at the author’s name, though. Fairy Child. What kind of name was that for an author?
But, then again, it was a children’s book.
“Fairy Child. What’s with the name?” he asked Edward. He had to go. But he didn’t want to leave them. Or the book.
“It’s a good name.” Joy spoke clearly. With gusto. Her voice was confident, even with her lisp.
“It is, huh?” He turned to her, feeling a lightness he’d been lacking since he was shoved into the back seat of a police car. “How would you know?”
Joy was talking. With just him and Edward there. No way in hell was he leaving.
“Because.”
Such a typical kid answer, he wanted to swing her up and hug her.
“Who comes up with a name like Fairy Child?” he said again. Teasing her. Not caring what they said as long as she continued to speak.
“Julie does,” Joy said with such certainty he almost believed her.
“Julie does.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Julie isn’t Fairy Child,” Edward said. “She just reads the books to you.”
“No.” Joy shook her head. “You could be my grandpa when you wanted me to help Hunter read my Amy books, but you can’t be my grandpa if you don’t take that back.” The rolled r’s didn’t minimize the sting of those words.
Edward looked startled And...tremulous, too. “I take it back, then, because I am most definitely your grandpa.”
“And Julie is Fairy Child,” Joy said, stacking the books on her lap with precise movements. “It’s a secret, and only us know and it’s not a silly name.”
Hunter started to feel hot. Overheated. Needed some air.
Julie with her art degree. Her studio.
The way she always talked about Amy whenever she spoke to Joy.
Could it be?
“Who told you Julie was Fairy Child?” he asked Joy. The girl might have a great imagination, she might invent things she wanted to be true, but she wouldn’t outright lie to him.
“She did. ’Cause I’m friends with Amy, and Amy is her when she was little like me.”
Oh, Lord.
Oh, good Lord.
Julie Fairbanks was a successful children’s author?
On top of everything else?
“Go to her.”
Edward’s words hit him upside the head. Or his next thought did.
If Julie was Amy, then she knew that doubts were a good thing. That they kept a person from being too selfish. And weren’t always real.
He wasn’t at all sure what he was supposed to do with that.
But it gave him something to work with.
For the moment, that was enough.
* * *
JULIE WAS IN her studio about five minutes before she returned to herself, to an awareness of where she was.
The room...the easel... It hurt to look at them. She’d come to her safe place for comfort, and it mocked her. She was all about being honest, with herself and others. Being realistic. And she’d been lying to herself.
Hiding from herself.
She’d let her mind, her fears, her doubts, get the better of her.
Again.
Not just that day. Not just since Hunter’s arrest, but since she’d first met him. She’d refused to let her heart have its say.
But what she knew, what her mother had taught her, what she remembered from Colin and her father when she’d come home with hurt feelings over one thing or another, had been that, yes, sometimes people do hurtful things. Mostly, though, hurt feelings were just our own minds being a little mean. It was for a good reason—to keep you humble. Aware. To keep you from getting too sure of yourself.
She knew this stuff.
She’d been raped. Not bludgeoned in the head and left mentally incapacitated.
&nbs
p; She’d lost both her parents in a short period of time. But she hadn’t lost everything they’d been. Everything they’d taught her.
She’d just been thinking that afternoon about how her mother had asked her to make sure her father didn’t feel guilty for loving again after her death. She hadn’t thought of that conversation in years. Hadn’t been able to bear it.
But because of Hunter, for Hunter, she’d remembered. She had to remind herself that not all men were like David Smyth. That would allow her to combat doubts about Hunter...
She remembered something else, too. Something she’d forgotten. Those first words had been on her father’s behalf. Her mother had a different message for Julie. She’d begged her to listen to her heart.
She’d told her that her heart would never lead her wrong.
She’d thought she was listening to her heart when she’d gone to that party with David Smyth. But she hadn’t been. What she’d done was stop listening to the voice of doubt in her mind. She’d become too cocky. Too careless. She’d listened to her head telling her how cool it was that the most popular boy in school wanted to be exclusive with her.
Shaking, she stood up. Got her purse. Her keys. She had no plan. She just knew she couldn’t stay there.
Couldn’t leave Hunter with her refusal to see him.
He’d think it was exactly what he deserved. And he didn’t deserve it. Ever since the rape, Julie had been turning her back on reality and walking away. She hadn’t gone forward with her accusations against David, not until Chantel intervened. She’d become a prisoner in her own hell. Still was.
Well, she wasn’t going to be a prisoner anymore.
Hunter—and Joy—had shown her who she wanted to be. Who she could be. Hunter thought he was the one who didn’t have staying power. He thought he’d let her down.
Instead, the opposite was true.
Passing her bedroom, she went inside, grabbed her swimsuit and headed downstairs.
Colin and Chantel were in their suite. She didn’t want to take the time to go there. Instead she called them, told them she was going out and to expect her when they saw her. Before they could comment or question her, she left.
She got in her car and drove down streets she’d driven many times. To a street she’d only driven once. He wasn’t going to be there.
She knew that.
He had a tribute in Santa Barbara that night.
She just hoped that when he got back, he’d be willing to see her.
* * *
HUNTER THOUGHT HE was imagining things at first when he reached his house around nine that night and saw a light shining from his backyard.
His second thought was to call the police. Memories of the afternoon put a rapid halt to that one. There were no cars out front. None in his driveway.
None in his garage when he drove inside.
If someone was waiting to hit him over the head and rob him blind, let ’em try. He was tired. And he wanted to be home.
His home. He’d earned it. And he’d damn well make sure that some thief who figured he could take anything that was his learned differently. He was done laughing.
He’d been arrested that afternoon.
He’d lost the one real relationship he’d ever had.
Life was no joke.
And neither was he.
He didn’t own a gun. But he had a sledgehammer in the garage. Picking it up, he carried it in through the kitchen and out the back door.
He had a doubt or two as he walked boldly into the light shining directly in his eyes. But doubts were good, right? They’d made an honest man of him. A hardworking man.
One who wished he’d repositioned that damn light. He’d meant to. Planned to get out his ladder and adjust the fixture so it shone into the pool as he’d intended. He hadn’t gotten around to it. It wasn’t like he ever spent time out by his pool at night.
He wasn’t Julie.
But...she was. Out there in the chill of the night. Lying on a chaise longue. In a bikini.
Hunter tripped—and fell into the pool. Tux and all.
Even the shock of the water didn’t cool his skin. He came up swimming, though. He made directly for the edge of the pool closest to that chair. As though he’d meant to jump in all along.
In his tux.
Pulling himself out, he stood there, dripping and...hot. God, she was gorgeous. With a body that would drive any sane man nuts. And he didn’t care about that. Not right now.
She was there.
In his home.
At his pool.
In a swimsuit.
Staring at him.
“You said if I wore a swimsuit, you could make me feel good,” she said. Her voice shook. Her whole body was shaking.
She was going to catch pneumonia. It couldn’t be more than seventy degrees out there. If that. With no sun to warm her skin.
She’d brought a towel with her. He wrapped it around her—and realized that she was shivering from cold. And crying.
* * *
“I’M SO SORRY, Hunter. So sorry I wouldn’t see you. Please, please, don’t ever judge me by that. I won’t do it again. Ever. I promise.” The words were hard to understand at times. But he got the gist of them.
“I thought Mandy accusing me like that, me being in jail, was karma for what I’d done to my dad, not testifying for him,” he said. There was so much to get out. So much he needed her to understand.
“No, Hunter...”
“I know.” He picked her up. “I read your book...” Carried her inside the house. “About Amy and her doubts...” Straight to his bedroom.
And he realized what that would look like to her.
“The only blankets in the house are back here, and I don’t think I have what it takes to just put you down. I plan to wrap you in a blanket and hold you against me. At least until I can get my heart out of my throat.”
“You might want to change clothes. That tux is soaked.”
Oh. Yes. Good idea.
He wrapped her in his bedspread and took her to the den, where he placed her gently on the couch, propped up by pillows.
“I’m not sick, Hunter.” She sniffed. Her tears came and went. But her strength was there every minute, shining from her eyes.
“But you should go get dry before you get sick,” she said.
He was back in less than three minutes, wearing the sweats and T-shirt he’d had on the night before.
“You know I wrote the Amy books.” She was sitting up. Waiting for him.
“Joy told me.”
She smiled. And then frowned.
“Oh, Chantel called a while ago. They found Shawn. He was driving Dan’s van in Nevada, in the middle of nowhere, but a cop had just seen the APB on the license plate and pulled him over. They think he was living in the vehicle, trying to stay under the radar out there. He’s in custody. Swears he doesn’t have any idea where Cara is. Even when they offered to see if they could help him out on the charges against him for Mary’s death—second-degree murder since he didn’t really mean to kill her—he still said he didn’t know where she is. Swears he didn’t do anything to her.”
Hunter hadn’t heard that. But he was pretty sure Edward had. And that he purposely hadn’t told him. That was why Edward had been with Joy. He had some tough choices ahead of him. What did he tell Joy? How long did he wait before starting a new life with her?
Hunter had to call him.
“Lila said he’s staying at the Stand tonight.”
“It’s probably bad news that Shawn isn’t talking. It could mean he killed her. And doesn’t want to face charges for her murder.”
Julie nodded. “That’s what Chantel said. But she also said he was pretty adamant about not hurting her. And they didn�
�t find any evidence on him, or in Dan’s van, to make them believe differently. No obvious blood, for instance. I’m sure they’ll have someone going over it for any trace evidence. But they aren’t holding out a lot of hope. If she is free, why hasn’t she turned up someplace? From what Chantel said, they might never know what happened to her.”
Hunter cared about that. A hell of a lot. But not as much as he cared about the woman sitting on his couch.
“Chantel also said that Colin has been in touch with Mandy’s lawyer. I’m not sure what was said, but I think you can expect her to drop the charges.”
At the moment, he didn’t even care enough about that. Colin had indicated to him not to worry. He had anyway, right up until he’d arrived home.
Now all he cared about was Julie. There, in his home.
“I can make your back feel good,” he said.
“I’m willing to give you a chance.”
“I didn’t ever touch Mandy without her consent.”
“I believe that. But I doubted you.” Tears sprang to her eyes again. “I doubted you...”
“Doubts are good. They keep you aware. Make you look at things, ask the important questions. They keep you safe. As long as you don’t let them keep you hostage.”
“I think I love you, Hunter. My mother told me to follow my heart, and here I am, in way over my head.”
“I am, too. But I know I love you.”
“I can’t ask you to. I might never... I’m so scared.”
He sat down beside her. Not touching her. Although the memory of holding her in his arms earlier was making him ache all over. “I’m scared, too. But what scares me most is living even a day of my life without you.”
“Me, too.”
“Marry me, Julie.”
“How can I? I don’t know if I can be a real wife.”
“You’re already more of a wife to me than I ever thought I’d find. Physically, we’ll work it out. I promise. One way or another, we’ll work it out. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she was smiling, too.
“Hey.” He wiped away her tears. “We’ll do this together, Jules. You and me. We’ll figure it out. All of it.”
She nodded and stretched out her arms. “Hold me, Hunter. Please?”
For Joy's Sake Page 25