by Candis Terry
M.R.
Abby shuddered at the memory. At the absolute devastation and humiliation she’d felt when she’d reached down, picked up the box, and walked back to her car.
What had she done that had been so awful?
All she’d wanted was a baby.
A child to hold in her arms.
To love.
To have that love returned—a love she’d never receive from the man who’d put a ring on her finger and pretended to the world to be a loving and devoted husband. To him she’d never been more than an employee—someone to host his parties, wear on his arm, and attend the charity events that made him look like a man with a heart.
He hadn’t been.
She’d been nothing more than a paid companion.
Mark Rich had discovered her working in the offices of his newly acquired team. He’d found her pleasant and pliable—someone who could be molded into what he needed to impress—or at least fit in—with the other married members of his peer group. She’d been educated, trained, and polished to be Mrs. Mark Rich. But she had never been loved or valued.
Across the room, Jackson snuggled the little girl in his arms, and when the stunning woman at his side leaned against him, looked up, and smiled, he smiled warmly back.
All Abby had ever wanted was exactly what stood right across the room—a man to look at her like that and a child to hold in her arms. Scratch that. Not just any man.
Her throat went as dry as the South Texas plains as she took a step backward. The wall behind her wouldn’t budge. As though he could read her mind, Reno laid a hand on her shoulder. Gave her a squeeze.
“Extra points for bravery,” he said.
Extra points?
She didn’t give a damn about points.
She wanted the hell out of there.
“As if Reno and Charli’s engagement isn’t wonderful enough,” Jana said, “I heard from Jake, and he’ll be home for a visit in a few months. And even our Abby’s back home.”
Everyone’s eyes cut to Abby. Including the woman at Jackson’s side.
Abby imagined the woman might have heard her name mentioned through the Wilder family’s talk of old times, and she couldn’t imagine Jackson would have been kind if he’d mentioned her. So when Abby expected to see animosity from the woman or maybe even a hint of jealousy because of the close relationship they’d once had, she was surprised to find only a mild curiosity.
“Annnnd,” Jana continued, “a little birdie told me that Jackson’s superior at the fire department has requested that he start working his way up in the ranks. So it looks like U.S. Marine Sergeant Jackson Wilder will soon be San Antonio Fire Captain Wilder.”
The woman beside him smiled up at him and rubbed his arm affectionately. His affectionate response made Abby’s stomach roll like she’d eaten bad sushi. Obviously, he and the mother of his child had a very special bond. And why wouldn’t they? She realized as guilt rammed headfirst into reason when all she could think of was the way he had kissed her the other night in his truck.
“So y’all eat up,” Jana said. “We’ve got a lot to celebrate tonight.”
Conversation and congratulations took off at high speed while everyone gathered around the table grabbing plates and slices of pizza.
Abby turned toward the human wall. “I’m very happy for you and Charli.” She pasted on the same smile she’d used countless times in challenging societal situations. “But I really do have to leave.”
She didn’t care about extra points, or Brownie points, or any other kind of points—including knives—that would force her to be brave and stay to watch the man she’d always loved be in love with someone else.
Sure, she’d known a woman existed, but imagination and reality were not compadres. So before Reno could block her way again, she sidestepped him and slipped out the door.
She couldn’t imagine anyone in the Wilder family had intended to be cruel. Then again, maybe she’d asked for this slap of reality by being naïve enough to believe they could forgive the way she’d cut Jackson from her life when he’d been in harm’s way. She didn’t know. She couldn’t even think straight except that maybe the demons she’d come back to face had just taken a big-ass bite out of her ever-growing behind.
With a wobbly leap off the veranda, she expelled the air she’d held trapped in her lungs. Relief to be out of the home and away from the family she’d once loved to be a part of rushed over her as she dug in her purse for her keys and hurried to her car. She hit the button on the key fob and reached for the handle.
“Abby.”
Shit.
“Wait.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Mentally spouted off every four-letter expletive that burst through her brain, and opened the car door.
Keep going. Keep moving. Get in the car and drive, drive, drive.
“Sorry. Have to go.” Before she could get in the seat and start the engine, Jackson was right there, putting himself between her and her path to freedom. Her stomach pretzeled. What the hell was it with these Wilder men and their diversionary tactics?
“Hold on a second.” His big hands captured her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. His voice rumbled deep in his chest the way it always had when he was edgy.
“No. Really.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go.”
“Just give me five seconds. Okay?” His finger tucked beneath her chin and gently lifted so she had nowhere to look but in his eyes.
Big mistake.
One look into that piercing gaze, and her legs morphed into Jell-O. In response, she inhaled a stuttered breath that probably gave away all her emotions with little effort on her part.
For what seemed like an eternity he stood there—forehead crinkled, outside corners of his eyes pulled down. He searched her face as if trying to pull the thoughts from her head. In those anxious moments, her heart did a superlative job of attempting to Evil Knievel its way from her chest.
“That wasn’t easy in there,” he admitted, stroking his thumb gently across her chin. Tingles ensued.
Stupid tingles.
“No joke.”
“For either of us,” he added. “Be assured, I’ll have a word with my misguided mother.”
She nodded. Acknowledged and appreciated that at least the emotional impact of the awkward moment hadn’t been one-sided.
“I didn’t recognize her,” she said. The “her” she referenced was met with a nod of immediate understanding.
“Fiona.” His big hands slipped down her shoulders and butterflies hit her stomach at warp speed.
Stupid butterflies.
“I met her—actually we rescued her—at a traffic accident on I-10,” he said. “She was trapped in the car. It took us an hour to get her out.”
“That’s scary.”
Soldier. Fireman. Rescuer. Hero. Before he’d even been trained, he’d always been a first responder. A man who took care of things without thinking of himself. An act first, ask questions later kind of guy.
Of course, Fiona had fallen in love with him.
“Luckily she escaped with only a few bruises,” he said, lowering his hands to cup her elbows. The heat from his palms seeped into her flesh and wound its way around her heart.
Stupid heart.
“I ran into her again a few weeks later and . . .” He shrugged. “The rest is history.”
“How long have you been together?” And why was she asking? She didn’t want to know all the details.
“We’re not together anymore.” He looked away. Dropped his hands to his sides. Exhaled. “Our divorce was final about a year ago.”
Married.
While the idea of him married to someone else threatened to crush her, she sensed his feelings of loss. Failure. Heartbreak. Her selfish emotions became null and void.
She reached out—dared to touch him—and found warmth beneath her fingers. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Divorce with a child must be devastating.”
“Divorce.
Period.” His eyes met hers. “You know that.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I do.” But not because she’d been so in love with Mark she couldn’t bear to think of a life without him. Judging by the anguish etched on his face, Jackson didn’t share that same feeling with Fiona.
So what had gone wrong?
His shoulders lifted on an inhale. In the moonlight, his eyes glittered. “I’m still pissed at you.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
“I still don’t understand why you cut me out of your life.”
“You probably never will.” She didn’t mean to sound flip, but that small part of her that hoped somehow they could put everything behind them and be friends again died in a fiery crash. The kiss in his truck had been a fluke. Some kind of twisted payback on his part? Who knew. Not something for her to try to figure out. At least not without a lot of pain, anguish, self-blame, and heartache.
Stupid heartache.
She’d beaten herself up enough about her grievous errors in judgment. She had to move forward with her life. She had to accept that while it had always been the one thing she’d always desired, needed, and craved, she was never going to be a part of the Wilder family. She was never going to have the love of the man she’d spent half a lifetime dreaming about. She might have made mistakes in her past, but didn’t she deserve to find happiness? Didn’t she deserve to be loved?
Ironically, she realized that today was no different than the day she’d tossed her bag in the back of her car and headed to Houston. She still had no one. And nothing. And that had to change.
Starting right now.
“Abby—”
His five seconds were up.
“I have to go.” Before he or anyone else in that house could stop her, she dropped down into the car seat, yanked the door closed, and cranked the engine.
In her rearview mirror, she saw him stand there in the glow of her red taillights, watching her drive away.
In her heart, she said another silent good-bye.
Chapter 5
The sun blazed overhead, scorching the crew in their fireproof gear as Jackson and two other guys finished flat-loading the hose back onto the engine. Earlier, they’d been activated to a working structure fire on Pioneer Road. Engines 1 and 11 arrived to find the back section of the house fully involved. Three hours later, while the captain met with the homeowners and explained the overhaul operations, Jackson went to help Hooch search for hot spots.
“I think we got this bastard beat.” Hooch pulled back the baseboard with a pike pole as Jackson came in through the kitchen door.
“We were lucky with this one. The wind’s coming up pretty strong now.”
“And no patients to package up either.”
“Always a good thing.” Jackson looked up at the soffit. “You check this?”
“Yeah. Hot Rod came through a few minutes ago and did his usual white-glove treatment. I’m just running the boards one more time to make sure. You give any more thought to Cap’s request of taking on some new challenges at the station?”
“Been thinking on it.”
“Well, think a little harder,” Mike said. “You’re not getting any younger.”
Pulling a baker’s rack away from the wall and checking for heat, Jackson laughed. “Jackass.”
“I am that. But all bullshit aside, you’d make a hell of a leader. Can’t figure why you haven’t moved up already.”
“Maybe because I don’t see myself in a leadership role.”
“Seriously?” Mike looked up. “Guess you’re the only one around here who doesn’t.”
To know he had the confidence of his peers touched him deeply. “Then maybe I’ll give it some further consideration.”
Mike gave him a grin. “Damned straight you will.”
“You give any more thought to the auction?” Jackson pushed aside a utility cart so he could run his hand along the wall.
“Got nothing planned that night so . . .” Mike shrugged. “Sure, count me in.”
“Thanks. The Emergency Center really needs the funds to expand.”
“This isn’t one of those auctions where the guys have to strip down in front of the audience and flex, is it? Because I don’t do that Muscle Beach shit.”
“And you think that’s something I’d do?”
“I think you’ve either got an evil plan forming in that pretty-boy head, or all those deep-thought frowns you’ve been giving have something to do with a female.”
When Jackson didn’t respond, Mike lowered the pike pole to his side and nailed him with a look.
“What?”
“Holy shit. It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” Mike pointed the pole at him. “She’s back. Right?”
Jackson considered lying through his teeth, but since he and Mike had spent more than a few hours commiserating over their failed relationships, losses, and regrets, he didn’t bother. “Yeah.”
“So, you get over your mad with her, or what?”
“Over might not be the proper term. We’ve talked.”
“And what? You agree to be friends or some crazy shit like that?”
“We didn’t agree on anything. But if she plans to stay in town, it’s a possibility.”
Mike leaned his head back and let go a laugh. “There’s no such thing as being friends with a chick.”
“Apparently you missed When Harry Met Sally or He’s Not That Into You or—”
“All right. That’s it.” Mike laughed again. “Hand over your fucking man card for even knowing those movies.”
“Date movies, brother.”
“Whatever.” Mike’s eyes darted away for a moment, then came back dark with memories. “Sometimes, it’s best to just let ’em go. You know?”
Jackson understood the heartache behind his friend’s bitter words of wisdom. Mike had loved his wife from the bottom of his soul. But during his long work shifts, she’d found someone else to keep her company. The day she left Mike was the day a little bit of the easygoing man he’d been had died. So far, he’d not recovered.
“What happens if you’re not sure?” God, Jackson hated to play the pity card, but from the moment Abby had walked away, his life had been shit. His brother—his role model—had been killed right in front of him. His dynamic father had died shortly after—seemingly from a broken heart. He’d met an amazing woman and married her. But by then he’d been so disconnected from everything, he’d lost her.
The only thing that brought him to life was Izzy’s smile. And the memory of the close relationship he’d once had with his best friend.
Jesse might be right. Maybe he should get to know her again. Get past what had happened between them. She sure seemed like someone who could use a friend. And, frankly, so could he.
Seeing her in the middle of chaos at his mother’s house the other night had hammered home the reality that while he might not like what she’d done, he’d known her almost his entire life. He’d spent countless hours with her, talking, laughing, planning, and dreaming. There were times he thought he knew her better than he’d known himself. He’d always valued her opinion, shared in her common beliefs, protected her when she’d needed to be, and trusted her when the roles had been reversed.
“After what happened, you’re not sure if you should let her go?” Mike asked.
Jackson shrugged.
Mike shook his head. “Then, man, you are totally screwed.”
As the sun dropped low in the sky, Abby blew out a breath at the ridiculous amount of work to be done in her parents’ house. Certainly, painting walls had never been big on her list of super-duper fun things to do. The last time she’d picked up a brush had been way back when she and Jackson had painted her bedroom.
At the time, her parents had been on another of their numerous out-of-state party excursions, and she and Annie had been left at home alone. Again. Jackson had been dying to get away from the chaos
at his house and practically begged for the peace and quiet at her place. So she’d put him to work.
While Annie had crashed on the living-room sofa watching the battle of the wits between Mulder and Scully on the X-Files, she and Jackson had painted long into the night. It wouldn’t have taken so long had they not screwed it up the first time and had to repaint. During those hours, he’d talked about his brothers. And though Abby had thought she knew them well, she’d been surprised at some of the crazy and ridiculous stunts they’d pulled—and survived. At the time, she’d decided that boys were a plateful of fun with a side order of gross.
At the moment though, fun—and especially Jackson—were out of the picture. And even though the buckets of paint were staring at her each time she walked through the hall, she planned to put off that particular chore for as long as she planned to put off trying to figure out her life—as long as possible.
Today’s mind-preoccupation challenge?
Organization.
Toss. Donate. Pack.
Those were all the decisions she needed to make today.
Easy cheesy.
No more thoughts about Jackson or the fiasco at his mother’s house. No more thoughts about when her feelings for him had changed or why. No more thoughts about him at all.
Today, she was all about getting crap in order and moving on.
As she stood in the middle of the living room, holding up her mother’s old COFFEE, CHOCOLATE, MEN . . . SOME THINGS ARE JUST BETTER RICH T-shirt, Abby thought of just how misguided her mother really was and tossed the shirt into the donate pile. Gave it a second thought and reassigned it to the toss pile.
In her mind, rich was not better.
No need to pass on a false declaration.
The stack of old clothes and odds and ends stored by her parents when they’d moved to Florida made no sense. Why anyone would keep half the stuff she kept finding shoved into cardboard boxes would confuse a member of Mensa. Abby had a pretty good idea that by the time she was done, there wouldn’t be much to fill that gigantic storage container parked in the driveway.
Still, she couldn’t condemn too harshly as she had a storage container of her own back in Houston. And the moment she’d figure out where she’d land for the rest of her life—or at least the foreseeable future, she’d have it hauled out and put in her own driveway.