“I start biweekly sessions with him on Monday.” He met her eyes with the soul-piercing gaze that had reached deep inside her from the day they met. “I just wanted you to know that.”
She moved her hand to his forearm and squeezed. “Oh, Gunnar, I’m so glad. This is the right thing. But...what changed your mind?”
He shifted his gaze to stare at the floor, a deep furrow in his brow. “The way things went down today. Things could have turned out so differently if—” His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and he raised tortured eyes to her. “If something had happened to you because I’d lost control of the situation, lost control over...” He paused, drawing a shaky breath, and Violet bit her lip, giving him time to say his piece, determined not to rush him.
“I started having another flashback...when he pulled the gun. When he threatened you and I thought I could lose you—” another pause, another deep breath “—I had to fight the memories, fight my fears with all my strength. I realized if I let the flashback take control of me, my mind, I’d lose control of the situation. It finally clicked that I’d been letting my nightmares, my...PTSD...control me and my entire existence for months.”
Gunnar rubbed a hand over his face and got up to pace the room. “I’m living like a hermit. I’m grumpy and withdrawn...just like my family has been telling me. I want my life back.”
Violet’s heart warmed hearing the revelations Gunnar had made. He was far from cured, but his acceptance of his condition, his desire to get better and change his life meant so much. She smiled as he continued, clearly on a roll as he enumerated his hopes for the future.
“I want...to get involved with my parents’ charity and volunteer in the community. I want to go to bed at night without fearing the nightmares. I want to spend time with Sawyer and Piper without worrying if I’m going to have another breakdown in front of them. I want a family. I want—” he stopped abruptly and jerked his head up, his anxious gaze darting to hers “—I want you, Violet. You and the boys.”
Her breath stuck in her lungs, and a hot flash of adrenaline swept through her. She gaped at him, unable to speak around the knot of emotions in her throat.
He rushed over to her and took her hands in his. “I know what you said yesterday. I know Adam and his addiction hurt you. And I honestly didn’t come tonight to try to change your mind, but—”
She shook her head rapidly, battling down the clog in her throat, needed to let him know the revelations she’d had. “No. No, Gunnar, I—”
“I understand your reasons for wanting me out of your life,” he interrupted, adding in a rush, “I know you don’t want to repeat the crap Adam put you through. I know we’re different. I know we’ve been over all the reasons why we could never work. I’m not trying to change your mind—”
“You’re not?” Violet’s heart sank. Did her selfish, frightened ultimatum last night mean she’d lost her chance with Gunnar?
“I know you’re doing what’s right for you and the boys. I won’t stop you from walking away. I just wanted you to know—”
She squeezed his hands. Hard. “You’re what’s right for us.”
“I meant what I said. I love you. I love the boys. I want to—” He blinked. “What?”
She smiled her apology as tears leaked onto her cheeks. “I was wrong to push you out of my life. You aren’t Adam. His addiction made him selfish and distant. These past two weeks, despite everything you’ve been dealing with—your nightmares, being pressed into service as a nurse and babysitter, paparazzi trespassing on your land—you’ve been nothing but kind and protective and helpful. You’ve been a better father to my boys in two weeks than Adam was in the eight months he had with them.”
“Tink, I—”
“No, it’s my turn. Let me finish, okay?”
Gunnar jerked a nod, a curious wrinkle denting his brow.
“Adam chose the drugs, chose to ignore the warning signs our marriage was suffering, chose to cheat on me. He chose the path that led to his death. You didn’t do anything but serve your country and witness horrors no one should. I respect your service and sacrifice, and walking away from you because of what those horrors did to you would be wrong.”
Gunnar’s face darkened. “I don’t want pity. I’m not a charity case.”
“No! Of course not! But your situation is so different from Adam’s, I...I can’t believe I couldn’t see how selfish I was being.”
He opened his mouth again, and she covered his lips with her hand. “The fact that you recognize your need for help puts you miles ahead and far apart from Adam in so many ways. And before I miss my chance, I want you to know... I love you, too, and I want to give us a chance.”
The tension beneath her fingers fell away, and his eyes warmed, dampened. “You do? Really?”
She nodded, fresh tears spilling from her lashes.
Gunnar reached for her, jamming his hand through her hair to catch the back of her head. He drew her close and captured her lips in a kiss that was deep and sweet and full of heart. Violet wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, her hope soaring.
“Mommy!” Mason’s squeal was followed by the thud of two sets of running feet.
Violet pulled reluctantly from Gunnar’s kiss and greeted the twins as they clambered up on her bed, sending Sophie running for cover.
“Nunnar!” Hudson said, throwing himself against Gunnar for a hug.
“Hey, buddy!” Gunnar gave each of the boys a hug of genuine and mutual affection.
And she knew in her soul she was making the right decision.
Rani appeared at the door and gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company. I told them they could get you for story time and prayers.”
“No problem. In fact, will you give us a few minutes alone with them?” Violet said, wincing as Mason hugged her sore neck a bit too tight.
“Sure. Call if you need me.” Rani backed out of the room and closed the door.
“C’mere, pal.” Seeing her predicament, Gunnar tugged Mason closer and redirected her toddler’s attention. “Why don’t you go pick out a book over there while I talk to your mommy. Okay?” He pointed to the stack of books on the floor by their reading pillow.
“’Kay,” Mason chirped and climbed down, Hudson following.
Gunnar faced her again, and his expression grew grave. “What were you saying about giving us a chance?”
“I want what you want. A family. A future with you.”
He gave her a skeptical frown. “What about all the differences in our lifestyles?”
“Frankly...” She lifted a corner of her mouth. “I’d love to spend a few months every year in a quiet cabin, alone with my boys and...you. I already planned to be more selective about what roles I take so I could spend more quality time with the twins. The question is, could you be happy spending part of the year in Hollywood or wherever I’m filming? Having the media watching your every public move?”
Gunnar flashed a lopsided grin. “Let them watch. I’ll be the envy of every man in America having you on my arm.” He kissed her hand. “I can handle the paparazzi if you can. Which reminds me, if you still need a date to the SAG Awards, I’m available.”
Violet grinned. “And the Golden Globes? And the Oscars?”
“Sign me up.”
She smiled, then sobered. “Are you sure? Being a public figure is a crazy life. I want you to be sure about this.”
He drew her close and brushed a kiss on her lips. “Very sure. I want to be with you, Tink. I want to make a family with you and the boys and...maybe a couple more kids. I want to be at your side to protect you and honor you and watch your star shine. We’ll deal with the crazy stuff public life throws us, and I promise to deal with my PTSD and not let it control me anymore.”
Happiness bloomed in her chest, filling her and bubbling up in a laugh of delight. “Sounds like a plan.”
Sophie had just resettled at the foot of the bed when the boys returned.
�
��This one!” Mason slapped a book on Gunnar’s lap before Hudson shoved his brother aside and dropped his choice of book on top of Mason’s.
“No, mine!”
Violet gave her nervous-looking cat a calming pet.
“Easy, son. We have time to read both.” As Mason crawled up beside Violet, Gunnar lifted Hudson onto his lap and scooted close to her. He sent her a crooked smile that made her pulse scamper and her spirits soar. “We have all the time in the world.”
* * * * *
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Chapter 1
The bright sun felt warm on his skin. If he’d been here for no reason other than a desire to enjoy the weather, Mac Riordan would have stopped and turned his face up to let the bright rays try to heat blood that these days always seemed chilled. Instead, he glanced around while keeping his quarry in sight, taking in the lush greenness of the park crowded with citizens enjoying the early spring air.
He couldn’t believe the hunter’s rush he felt at this planned-for encounter. Finally, after all this time, he’d meet the woman who had, inadvertently or not, stolen everything he had left to live for.
He’d planned this carefully, just happened to take a stroll along the tree-lined, paved walking path when the very woman he’d come to town to find strode past him on her daily walk—Emily Gilley. He’d been watching her for a week, after all, and figured an accidental meeting in the park would be a great way to meet her.
True, if he wanted this to appear unintentional, keeping up with her confident pace without looking as though he was stalking her might prove difficult, though not impossible.
He doubted she’d find him suspicious. From what he’d heard about the east Texas town of Anniversary, everyone was friendly and trusting and looked out for each other. If this was true, then Emily Gilley would have no reason to worry about a friendly stranger.
He allowed himself the slightest of grim smiles. If only she knew.
So far, he’d been careful. After all, he’d only been in town for three weeks. It was just long enough to establish his brand-new trucking business and to put out a few feelers about her, the woman he’d spent several years trying to locate: Emily Gilley, twenty-nine-year-old widow of one of the most notorious drug dealers on the Eastern Seaboard. She’d changed her name, taking back her mother’s maiden name Gilley, and altered both the cut and the color of her hair, all to help her disappear. But for someone with the far-flung resources to which he had access, finding her had been a matter of time and a tenacious effort. He was fortunate to still have a lot of the tools from his law enforcement days at his disposal.
Her long, blond locks were now dark, short and spiky. Instead of designer fashions, she wore clothing that looked off the rack at a big bin department store. She’d gone from a glamorous life in Manhattan to this: a tiny lakefront community ninety miles east of Dallas.
As he hurried around a bend at the end of the trail, trying not to appear in too much of a rush, he nearly ran into her. She’d stopped at the weathered wooden bench that marked the entrance to the paved parking lot of Sue’s Catfish Hut, which was crowded with lunchtime patrons.
She was stopped and turned to face him, apparently willing to wait for him to catch up.
This was going even better than he’d hoped, he thought with some satisfaction. And then he got a look at her annoyed expression.
Hands on her hips, she glared at him, her brown eyes full of anger mixed with only the barest hint of fear. “What do you want? Stop following me! If you’re trying to creep me out, you’re succeeding admirably.”
He dipped his chin, sending her an abashed smile he hoped she’d find reassuring. “My apologies. I had no idea this was a private trail.”
Instead of growing flustered, she shook her head, sending her shaggy spiked hair rippling. “It’s not. But I walk here every day on my lunch break, and I know almost everyone in town. Every time I look up, you’re right behind me. You never pass me or fall back. And while this is the first time I’ve seen you here, you have to understand how such behavior can make a woman feel threatened.”
“Threatened? Interesting choice of words.” He crossed his arms. “I’m new here, and I mean you no harm. I wasn’t aware being a newcomer and taking a walk were crimes.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, apparently not buying his too-easy, confident patter. In his experience, overly suspicious or outright paranoid people usually had something to hide. But then again, she had a point. He was a stranger who was following her, and her former husband had been a drug dealer. No doubt, looking over her shoulder had been deeply ingrained in her psyche. She’d be foolish not to worry. And one thing he’d learned about Emily Gilley, formerly Cavell, was that she was anything but stupid.
Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.
“Look,” she said, her tone reasonable this time rather than furious, “you’ve been following me way too closely. What matters is that you’ve made me very uncomfortable.” Swallowing hard, she studied him, her caramel gaze unflinching. “And even though this is a small town, one can’t be too careful.”
It was especially true for a woman like her, with so many secrets to hide.
He nodded, feigning chagrin. “Again, I apologize. If I’d known I was frightening you, I would have dropped back or—” he grimaced ruefully “—I would have tried to pass you.”
Rather than accept his apology, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “You said you’re new in town, right?”
“Yes.” Relieved and slightly surprised that getting to know her was going to be this simple, he gave her a practiced, easy smile, holding out his hand. “Mac Riordan.”
Instead of a handshake, she simply continued to stare him down. Only when he’d dropped his hand and frowned did she speak again in a cool, measured tone. “Welcome to Anniversary, Mac Riordan. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but in the future, please leave me alone.
Tamping down shock, he feigned confusion instead. “Ma’am, I—”
Backing up slightly, she tilted her head and peered up at him. “Let me ask you something. Are you the one who mailed me the note? It was postmarked Dallas. Is that where you’re from?”
“Note?” He eyed her warily. Had someone tipped her off about his arrival? “What note? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t send me an anonymous note? Cut out letters on white paper?”
Was this a joke? Then, as he realized what she’d said, his former cop instincts made him ask, “Is someone sending you threatening notes?”
Again he got the sharp, brown-glass stare, as if she thought if she tried hard enough she could read his mind. Since he’d been looked at all kinds of ways by all sorts of people in his previous life in law enforcement, he let her. Silence was often the best interrogation method of all.
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you from Dallas?”
“No,” he fired back. “Albany, New York. Now tell me about this note.”
“That’s none of your business,” she said calmly, her spine so rigid he thought it might snap. Then, apparently considering he might in fact be harmless, she swallowed, still eyeing him warily.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’ve got to go.�
� She mouthed the words, sounding anything but. Without another word, she marched off, her spiky dark hair ruffling in the breeze.
Watching her slender, lithe body as she went, he couldn’t help but respect that she knew enough to be wary. Because if their situations had been reversed, he’d have done exactly the same. People on the run from former lives couldn’t afford to befriend curious strangers.
This was exactly the reason he had to make sure he gained her trust—no matter what it took.
* * *
Even as she hurried away, Emily Gilley felt the tall, dark-haired stranger’s gaze boring into her back. She felt flushed and hot, though not entirely from her brisk walk. Instead, she worried about the man with the striking cobalt eyes. At first glance, the tinge of gray in his hair had made him look older by at least a decade. But up close, his rugged face appeared to be only a few years older than she. Mid-thirties, perhaps, a handsome, muscular man who moved with easy grace. Any other woman would have been intrigued by his blatant masculinity, his self-confident virility.
Not she...she knew better. Sex on the hoof didn’t last past the morning, and men like him were nothing but trouble. After all, she’d been married to one once.
This man singled her out. Why? She couldn’t help but wonder if this attempt to appear older was deliberate, an effort to camouflage who he really was—or what he was.
He was a threat. She couldn’t believe his sudden appearance the same day after getting her first threat since moving here was a mere coincidence. How could it be?
The unsigned note that had appeared in her mailbox that morning had been similar to the ones she used to get back in New York. Letters cut and pasted from a magazine, the three sentences read exactly like the ones she’d received before. Her stalker—and Ryan’s, for the note always mentioned her five-year-old son by name—had somehow found her here, in an innocuous small Texas town.
This meant it was time to move on.
She considered, suddenly exhausted by it all, she could run again. Or she could stay—and fight.
Because quite frankly, she liked living here in Anniversary, Texas. She’d made friends, and while her receptionist job at Tearmann’s Animal Clinic wasn’t glamorous, she loved the sheer ordinariness of it. All in all, she’d made a cozy home for herself and her son here.
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