by Sandra Owens
“That was Kathleen.” And it was. She was drawn to anyone in need. Hell, there were too many animals to count that she had rescued and found homes for. People, animals, didn’t matter, and he had loved that about her. He wasn’t so sure he did anymore.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” Patrick asked.
“It’s not that I want to. I need to. I have to understand. I’ve been fucked up for the past year, Patrick. I can’t . . .” He paused when the waitress arrived and set two more mugs on the table. “I can’t let her go until I know why she cheated on me. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Patrick winced at the word cheated. Ryan didn’t give a damn if he was making his brother uncomfortable. He was the wounded party here.
“I guess I’d feel the same, if the tables were turned.” Patrick took a deep swallow of his beer, then wiped the foam from the top of his lips with the back of his hand. “We intended to eat at the Golden Dragon, but when we got there, there was a wait. So we got some stuff to go and went to my place ’cause it was closer. We were just going to talk is all.”
Ryan let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding at hearing they hadn’t gone to the home he shared with his wife. If Kathleen had been with Patrick in their bed, he would have lost it. Why that made a difference, he didn’t know, but somehow it did. “Go on.”
“Isn’t it enough to know it happened? You don’t need the details.”
“How did you get from talking to fucking my wife?”
Patrick sat back as if struck. “It wasn’t like that.”
Yes, it was. “Then explain to me what it was like. Tell me why.”
“We ate, drank some wine, talked about me and Erin, drank some more, then we talked about you and she started crying. She missed you, Ryan. She didn’t understand why the SEALs were more important to you than she was.”
He’d heard that from her plenty of times. “They were never more important to me than her.”
“Are you sure about that?”
No, but he could honestly say she was as important to him. He’d promised he would opt out as soon as she got pregnant. He just expected he would be the one to get her that way. “So she was crying,” he said, refusing to answer the question.
“I tried to comfort her. I was the one who was supposed to be crying on her shoulder, not the other way around. We were both a little drunk, both hurting. Before we knew what was happening, it happened. It was a terrible mistake on both our parts, and we knew it.”
“Did she tell you when she found out she was pregnant, and how the hell did that happen? The condom break?” Because they had been trying to have a baby, she hadn’t been on the pill.
Patrick’s cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t wearing one. It just . . . it just happened so fast. If it helps, we were both horrified after. She said she was going to tell you when you got home and beg your forgiveness.”
“I might kill you after all, Patrick.” Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear any more. He wanted Charlie. Needed to wrap himself around her and lose himself in her sweet body.
Patrick pushed his empty mug aside. “If it will make you feel better to beat the shit out of me, I won’t try to stop you. Truthfully, it might even make me feel better if you did.”
Ryan slid out of the booth. “I don’t give a damn about making you feel better, brother.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a twenty, and put it on the table. Ignoring Patrick’s plea to stay, Ryan walked out of the bar. When he reached his car, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and called Charlie.
“I need you, cherub,” he said when she answered.
Charlie squeezed her fingers around her phone. Although she heard the hurt in Ryan’s voice, she tried not to respond to it. It didn’t work. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” A sigh. “Yes, but not on the phone. Can you come to Boston?”
There was a question she wasn’t expecting. “Why didn’t you call me, tell me you weren’t coming home? Do you know how I felt when I stood at the airport waiting for you and you didn’t get off the plane?” She laughed, the sound not pretty to her ears. “No, of course you don’t.”
“I sent you a text, telling you I was detouring to Boston.”
“Yeah, you did and it got hung up in cyberspace somewhere and didn’t show up until this morning . . . after I stood there like a pathetic idiot, watching for you to get off the plane.”
“Jesus, Charlie, I’m sorry. I should have called. I just . . . I didn’t know what to say to you.”
“Well, that makes me feel better.”
“Okay, I deserved that and anything else you want to throw at me. Come to Boston and yell at me, beat your tiny fists against my chest, bash me over the head with a hammer, I don’t care. Just come, and when you’re done punishing me, I’ll tell you everything.”
“I don’t think I should.” The man was killing her, but she had to look out for Charlie. No one else was around to do it, and a part of looking out for Charlie was protecting her heart. Not that it wasn’t already a screwed-up hot mess.
“Please, baby.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “No, you’re right, I shouldn’t be asking. I know you have your show in a few days, and you need to concentrate on that. Listen, I have to go, but when I get home, we’re going to talk, Charlie. About us.”
Her heart hammered against her chest with longing, but she ignored it. “We’ll see. Did you get the answers you were looking for?”
He laughed, and it sounded bitter. “You know that old saying—be careful what you ask for? Well, I asked for it and I fucking got it.”
Not knowing what to say to that, she remained silent.
“Sorry, I’m not myself right now. Have there been any more problems with your plane?”
“Not since I moved it to a different hangar and refused to tell anyone where.”
“Good, but don’t let down your guard, okay? You’ll call me if anything else happens, right?”
“Right. You take care of yourself, Ryan, and try to enjoy your visit with your family.”
Another bitter laugh. “My family’s half the damn problem. Remember, call me if you need me. Even if you just want to talk, call me, okay?”
“Okay.” She clicked off, then stared at the phone. What had he meant by his family being half the problem? From what he’d told her, he was close to his parents and siblings. It wasn’t until tears dropped onto the screen of her phone that she realized she was crying.
Damn him.
Charlie peered at the digital clock for the thousandth time, or for what felt like that many times. She groaned at seeing it was after midnight. Go to sleep, she ordered herself as she pulled the pillow over her head. It didn’t work. Three hundred and fifty-seven sheep counted later, she gave up. All she kept hearing was the pain in Ryan’s voice when he’d said he needed her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned on the lamp, then got out of bed and went to her desk, turning on her laptop. Twenty minutes later, she had a flight booked for the following morning, even managing not to gag at the cost of the last-minute ticket as she entered her credit card number.
So what if she had to live on ramen noodles for the next two years? Ryan needed her, and fool that she was, she couldn’t turn her back on him. After she packed a carry-on, she set her alarm, climbed back into bed, and fell instantly to sleep.
When the blare of her alarm woke her, she jumped out of bed, heading for the shower. Although she’d expected to regret her rash decision in the middle of the night, she felt strangely invigorated and excited. After a shower, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that said, Pilot inside. It was the tamest one she had, and if she ended up meeting Ryan’s family, she didn’t think her shirt should say, Will fly for sex.
When she knew Maria would be up, she called her friend. “Ryan called last night and asked me to come to Boston. I’m probably stupid for doing it, but I booked a ticket.”
“If you felt strongly enough to spend the money on a ticket, then you were ri
ght to do it. I don’t know his story, but he was so sad until he met you. What time are you leaving? I’ll take you to the airport.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll call a taxi. I just wanted to tell you where I’d be.”
“What time?”
“Eleven fourteen.” Charlie squeezed her eyes shut against the swell of gratitude for her friend.
“I’ll be out front at nine forty-five.”
“Thanks. Really, thanks. Do you have his Boston address?” It hadn’t occurred to her until then that she had no clue where to go after landing in Boston.
“Not off the top of my head, but I’ll have it when I pick you up. Pack up Mr. Bunny and I’ll take him to my house.”
“Thank you, Maria, for everything.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
After hanging up with Maria, Charlie debated calling Ryan to tell him she was coming. Not sure if she would change her mind and get right back on a plane for home, she decided not to.
At dinner, Ryan sat in the same chair that had been his as a kid. Knowing his mom would insist on him staying home, he’d checked out of the hotel. His parents had been ecstatic to see him, and he hadn’t realized before how much he had hurt them by cutting them out of his life the past year. As his mother fussed over him, and his dad went for manly questions—asking him about being in the SEALs—he let his mom wait on him only because it made her happy. He answered all his dad’s questions, telling him amusing stories about his teammates.
His oldest sister, Megan, alternated between concerned looks at him and goofy glances at her husband. It made him wish Charlie were sitting next to him so he could give her goofy grins. His other sister, Colleen, lived in Northern California with her wine-making, rich husband. How that had come about he still wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t seen her in two years and he missed her. She had been his coconspirator in all things that got the two of them grounded as children.
As Megan’s gaze flickered between him and Patrick, her eyebrows furrowed in the way they had in his teen years when he was up to no good. She had always been the one to tattle on them.
Patrick studiously avoided looking at him, and that pissed Ryan off. Who the hell was he to act like the wounded one? About the time Ryan decided to reach across the table, never mind how it would upset his mother, and land his fist on his brother’s nose, the doorbell rang.
Their mother rose. “Anyone expecting company?” No one answered as they darted glances between him and Patrick.
“What’s going on here?” his father asked.
Ignoring his dad’s question, Ryan leaned over his plate toward Patrick. “Look at me, damn you.”
Before he could say more, the last voice he expected to hear said, “Is Ryan O’Connor here?”
She’d come. Sweet Jesus, she had come. He pushed away from the table so quickly that his chair turned over. If he didn’t get out of the house, away from his brother’s presence, he didn’t know what he would do next.
“Yes, he is. Come in,” his mom said.
Ryan grabbed the keys to his father’s car as he walked past the bowl on the foyer table. “She’s not coming in.” He stepped around his mom. “We’ll stop by tomorrow. You can meet her then.” Even knowing the rest of the family had followed him and now stood behind his mother didn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Charlie and pressing his face against her neck.
“You’re here,” he stupidly stated the obvious.
“You needed me,” she answered, as if that was the only excuse she needed to travel halfway across the country at a moment’s notice.
He picked her up so that she straddled him, carried her to his dad’s car, lowered her onto the seat, and buckled her in. Because he couldn’t resist, he kissed her. Hard.
“Who is she?” he heard Megan ask.
His mom ran toward them, waving one hand, a tote bag in the other. She handed it off to him. “This is hers.” She gave him a fierce hug. “You better bring her back tomorrow, or you’ll be cleaning toilets for the next six months.”
Cleaning toilets had been a childhood punishment for their sins, of which there had been many committed by all the siblings, but especially by him and his brother. “I promise,” he said, returning her hug. “But you can’t make me scrub a toilet now. I’m bigger than you.”
Before the rest of his family could descend on them, nosy people that they were, he tossed the bag onto the backseat, then jogged around the front of the car and slid onto the driver’s seat. As he backed out of the driveway, he tried to decide where to take her. He wanted someplace private where they could clear the air between them, then hopefully pass the night away making love. On his walk, he had noticed a quaint bed-and-breakfast near the wharf. Best of all, he and Kathleen had never been there. He turned the car toward downtown, hoping they had a vacancy.
Charlie hadn’t said a word since showing up and asking for him. Afraid to start a conversation he didn’t want to have while driving, he risked reaching over and taking her hand. When she didn’t pull away, hope spread its way through him. She didn’t have to tell him he’d almost lost her. He knew it. But she had come, and he would hold on to that.
And she wore the earrings he’d made for her. Another sign that he still had a chance with her? All he had to do was find the right words to explain everything, then convince her he was ready to put the past behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Charlie still wasn’t sure she hadn’t made a mistake coming to Boston. She supposed before the night was over that she would know the answer. As Ryan drove to wherever he was taking them, she concentrated on the passing view. Never having been to Boston, she thought she should at least pay attention. Get her money’s worth, if nothing else.
Her return ticket was for the following afternoon, and she had no choice but to be on the flight if she was to have time to be ready for her performance. Somehow—and much to her surprise—the air show paled in comparison to her hope of making things right between her and Ryan.
Because he was silent, she stayed silent, too. After twenty minutes, downtown Boston came into view, and still, he hadn’t said a word. Just held her hand as if he would never let go. Even though tension radiated from him, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. He began to rub his thumb over the top of her hand, sending shivers up her arm, and because she wasn’t ready to forgive him, she did her best not to let him see how much his touch affected her.
At a quaint building near a marina, Ryan turned into the parking lot. He pulled into a space, then turned off the ignition. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”
Where else was she supposed to go? She glanced at the sign. “I’ve never stayed in a bed-and-breakfast. Always wanted to.”
“Is that a yes?”
“My flight home doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. Guess I have to stay somewhere, right?” She knew she wasn’t responding the way he wanted her to, but she couldn’t help it.
“One room or two?”
What she wanted was for him to just take charge, but she understood he was giving her the choice of whether or not to spend the night with him. “One.” She didn’t know what the following days would bring for them, and maybe she was stupid, but she wanted this night with him.
“Thank you.”
As they walked toward the entrance, Ryan took her overnight bag from her, while his other hand rested on her lower back. “I hope they have a room available,” he said.
Turned out they did. As Ryan unlocked the door to their room, her nerves notched up. He followed her in, and she turned in a circle, taking in the décor. She knew nothing about antiques, but she felt as if she’d walked through a time warp, back a hundred years maybe. There was even an old-fashioned pitcher and washbowl, something she’d only seen in magazines. The bed had an iron headboard, a colorful quilt, and fat, fluffy pillows.
Ryan set her bag on a suitcase stand, the only piece of modern furniture in the room. He walked to the French doors, open
ed them, and stepped out onto a balcony. She followed him and stared out over the harbor. The water sparkled like colored diamonds from the red, yellow, blue, and white lights coming off the boats and nearby businesses.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
Instead of taking in the view, he was focused on her. “Yes, beautiful.”
There were two wicker chairs on the balcony, and she sat before her legs gave out. How could he make her tremble just by looking at her like that? He settled in the other chair and put his feet up on the railing.
For a few minutes, they watched the boats bobbing in the marina. There were a few large yachts, but most appeared to be smaller pleasure boats. She would not speak first. He had said he needed her, and she had heard the pain in his voice, so she had come to him. As far as she was concerned, they could sit all night staring at the view, or he could tell her what had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied him. Usually clean shaven, he sported a bristly stubble, and he just looked . . . lost. That was the word. He was lost.
Another five minutes passed before he said, “It was my brother.”
Shocked, she turned her head toward him. He couldn’t possibly mean his wife had had an affair with his brother. “Your brother what?”
“The ba . . . baby. It was my brother’s.”
Oh, God. No wonder there had been such pain in his voice when he’d called her. He’d even stumbled over baby, as if he could barely get the word out. She couldn’t blame him—wasn’t even sure which was worse for him, the betrayal of his wife or that of his brother.
As the story poured from him, she didn’t know what else to do but just listen. By the time he finished, tears flowed down her cheeks. For him. For her. How could he get past something like that? Would she ever matter to him as much as his wife had? He had a history with Kathleen—according to him, they’d been together since the third grade. Theirs had been a once-in-a-lifetime love, for goodness’ sake. How was she supposed to compete with that?