While It Lasts

by Paige Rion

  * * *

  An hour later, reporters already flocked to their house. Vans from local news stations lined the street and people traipsed through their wet lawn until it turned into a giant pool of mud, and her mother had to call the police to remove them off the property.

  Now, instead of gathering in their yard, they lined the edge of the road, waiting for one of them to exit, knowing that need—the grocery store, obligations, bailing her father out, something—would eventually drive them from their home.

  Rachel moved into her mother’s bedroom. She sat on the window seat, staring out at the yard below. When she heard her enter, she turned slightly, but failed to meet Rachel’s eyes.

  Rachel took a seat next to her. “You knew didn’t you?”

  Her mother nodded, saying nothing for a moment, and then staring back outside. Her brittle voice broke the silence. “I remember when I met your father. We were so young. Nineteen. He came from money and had this big name. His family was in politics, had this huge social standing in town. They were everything my family wasn’t and I was completely charmed by him, by everything he had to offer. I wanted away from my world, and back then, a woman was expected to marry and do little else. A pairing with someone like your father was like a dream come true.”

  “Mom...” Rachel reached out and grabbed her mother’s hands, frustrated with the direction of their conversation and wanting to only address the problem at hand. “If you knew what he was doing, why’d you stay with him?”

  Her mother’s lips curled slightly, but there was something sad about the gesture. “Because I love him. After all these years, after the lying and the scheming, I loved him. And besides that, I have nothing without him. Everything I have, everything I am is wrapped up in him.” She turned to Rachel, her eyes full of repressed emotion. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

  Rachel swallowed over the lump in her throat, as she saw herself mirrored in her mother’s eyes. “No.”

  Reaching out, her mother took her hands. “Find your life. Don’t wait. Build your own world and find what makes you happy. Please. Don’t stay here. Distance yourself from all of this.”

  “What about you? Mom, what are you going to do?”

  She shrugged, looking frail and older than her years. “Wait. I’ll wait for him. I’ll stand by his side.”

  For the first time that morning, Rachel’s heart raced with the familiar edge of panic. “Mom, he’s probably going to jail.”

  Her mother nodded. “If he does, maybe I’ll move to Florida. Get a small place by your brothers. I can visit them on the weekends. I think my being gone will help you. I don’t want you thinking you need to take care of me.” When her mother turned her gaze back on her, she grabbed Rachel’s arms and squeezed, her blue eyes on fire. “This is your time, and I want you to take it. Take it and run.”

  “But Mom...”

  “I’m tired. I think I might go to bed.”

  Rachel stared at her, slack jawed, unsure of what to say. Maybe it was cowardly, but more than ever she felt the urge to flee. Her legs itched, willing her to move, as she slowly stood. She left the room and made her way to her bedroom, where she closed the door.

  She moved to her closet on automatic and removed her luggage set, and then began grabbing clothes, shoving them inside, along with other necessities. Her body moved on its own accord, disconnected from her mind that blurred with a whirlwind of thoughts, remembering all the conversations with Rex about not having a future, about wanting a life, about being tangled up in her parents’ lives.

  She hurried around her room, grabbing things and packing them with the fury of someone trying to escape, to flee a life they never really wanted. Once she couldn’t fit anything else, she threw her overnight bag over her shoulder and wheeled her suitcases into the hallway. Turning, her eyes moved over her room one last time. Memories of her childhood, of her family, and of making love to Rex floated through her head like ghosts.

  She shut off her light and closed the door. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  But she wasn’t a little girl anymore. And her father wasn’t in control of her life. It may be in shambles now, but only she could control what happened from here on out. Only she could control her destiny. And the thought that she would never be in this predicament in the first place had she lived her own life all along stuck with her as she made her way to her car and headed for the highway.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Two weeks later...

  Colton shoved the few sweaters he accumulated while in Callaway Cove into his suitcase. If he had his way, he’d never need anything made of wool again. His days of cold and snow were over. He’d be in sunny Florida by tomorrow, sipping a beer, beachside.

  Far away from Callaway Cove, he thought. Far away from Rachel...

  Molly sat cross-legged on his bed, watching him. He glanced at her, to her pouty lower lip, the disappointment etched in her young face, and sighed. “Are you going to talk to me yet?”

  She crossed her arms, as her small blue eyes burned holes through him. Man did he hate to think what her teenage years would be like.

  “That depends.”

  “On?” he asked, raising a brow.

  “Whether you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”

  Colton sighed. How could one five year-old exasperate him so much? In the past two weeks, she had been relentless in her attempts to get him to call Rachel. And the fact that they were leaving tonight had made her moody, to say the least. Most of the morning, she had given him the cold shoulder, completely ignoring him and any attempts at conversation, until he finally resigned himself to a day of silence and retreated to his room to pack the last of his things.

  Ten minutes ago, she had taken up station on his bed, where she stared him down as he packed.

  “I already told you. She won’t talk to me.”

  “Have you even tried?”

  “Yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “When?”

  Shutting his suitcase, he zipped it shut and ran a hand through his hair. Last week, when Molly wouldn’t let things go, he had told her the truth about his job. She was mature for her age and at a point where, maybe she wouldn’t understand completely, but would know enough to keep quiet about everything if needed. She now understood that for work he had to pretend to be someone else at times—like acting, he had told her—in order to solve a case. It was like working a puzzle in disguise.

  “Two weeks ago, when I told her the truth, about me, my job, and why we were here, I told her how I felt about her then. But she didn’t want to listen.”

  It was only a half truth. Sure, he had begun to tell Rachel how he felt, he had pleaded with her to hear him out. But when she shut him down, he stopped. He wasn’t proud of what he had done to her and how easily he had given up, but if his childhood and his job had taught him anything, it was to be a realist. And he knew she wouldn’t forgive him, just like he knew that even if she ever did, a relationship between them, after what transpired, would be next to impossible. But Molly wouldn’t understand any of that.

  He came around the side of the bed and took a seat next to her. He grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Listen, I know you loved Rachel. I loved her too. And she was crazy about you. I’m sorry I screwed everything up. I wish I could change it now, but I can’t.”

  “But, Dad, just tell her you’re sorry. You always tell me that if I say I’m sorry that it will make things right again, that...” her voice hitched as tears streamed down her tiny face. Another piece of Colton’s heart broke at the sight. After the last two weeks, he was amazed there was even anything left inside his chest.

  He took her into his arms and held her as she cried. Her body shook, too small to contain the force of her sobs. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Pl-pl-please,” she wailed.

  Colton squeezed his eyes shut and held her tighter. Losing Rachel had hurt him, but watching Molly lose her, too, was torture. He couldn’t take it and he cou
ld feel his resolve weakening as he questioned his motives for leaving so soon, for pulling her out of school instead of letting her finish out the year.

  “You can’t give up. You have to talk to her again. You always tell me never to give up on my dreams, Dad. And I know you love her. Don’t you?” She pulled away from him. The streaks from her tears shimmered in the light from the window.

  “Yes, I do. But—”

  “And is she your dream?”

  He smiled to himself at the innocence in the question. “Yes, but—”

  “Then have you been lying to me this whole time? When you told me to never give up? To fight for your dreams?

  Colton shook his head. How in the world would he get out of this one and not look like a complete jerk to her? “It’s complicated. These are grown-up problems, Mol.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her tears temporarily ceasing. She stared at him and he felt himself buckle under the scrutiny. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

  “I want to stay and finish out kindergarten. And I want you to try. Don’t give up. Not yet. Please, Dad. She loves you, I know she does. And you love her—”

  “Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “We’ll stay. And I’ll try one more time. But, Mol, if that doesn’t work and summer comes, and Rachel still won’t talk to me, we’re leaving.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and wiped her face. “I agree. But she’ll forgive you. You’ll see.” She smiled at him, as though she had just solved everything, but Colton knew that real life was never that easy.

  * * *

  Colton knocked on the door of the modest lakeside home, glancing around him, and hoping he had the right place. When the door swung open, Ford Delaney stared back at him. Colton had yet to meet the man personally, but his reputation preceded him. It would be hard to not know who the man was with the rampant tabloid stories the last few years.

  Colton wasn’t sure what about the man garnered so much interest, other than the controversy with his books and his real life intermixing, but as he stared back at him, the man seemed normal enough.

  “Can I help you?” His sounded leery, which Colton supposed was par for the course.

  “Yeah. I was hoping to talk to Andi. Is she home?”

  Ford tensed and he narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m Colton McCabe. I need to talk to her about Carma and Rachel.”

  Ford nodded, relaxing only slightly, which led him to believe that Ford knew of his relationship with Rachel.

  “Is this on official business?” he asked.

  Colton shook his head. “No. Personal.”

  Ford nodded and stepped aside, allowing Colton in the house. “Have a seat and I’ll go grab her. Do you need anything? A drink, maybe?”

  Colton raised his hands. “No. Thank you.”

  Ford nodded again and left, returning moments later with Andi by his side. He followed beside her, and then raised his brows at Colton. He cupped his hand around his mouth so only Colton could see, and mouthed good luck. Then he left again, and it wasn’t until Colton met Andi’s blazing eyes that he realized why he needed luck.

  The lines of her face tightened with anger, as she sat across from him. “What do you want?” she asked, not wasting any time.

  “I don’t know what Rachel might’ve told you, but—”

  “She told me everything,” she said, letting her gaze trail down the length of him, pausing below the waist of his pants, he assumed, to let him know that she knew the exact details of their relationship, right down to the night they slept together.

  Colton cleared his throat, glancing away from her and feeling extremely awkward in the situation. But he would power on. Not only because he promised Molly he would try his best to make amends, but for himself. Because inside he still burned for Rachel and he always would.

  Colton already knew what it was like to live every day with regret. The loss of his mother had burned a hole through him no one or nothing could ever fill, and he didn’t want one more thing to wish away. He did what he had to in this situation. Maybe he could’ve handled things better where Rachel was concerned. He shouldn’t have been intimate with her, but overall, he wouldn’t change anything. It had been his duty. He did his job and did it well. But if he left Callaway without doing everything in his power to win her back, then he would regret it. And there wasn’t enough room inside him for more regret.

  He met Andi’s gaze, assessing her before deciding how to approach things. Her shoulder-length hair hung over her shoulders and her icy stare gave away everything she was feeling. She was a person who wore her heart on her sleeve. And while anger rolled off her, he sensed she also gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, inherently trusting the people she came across as good. Some people believed someone like her to be weak, but Colton thought the opposite. She may get hurt easily but to trust, to believe in the good of people was a difficult thing—something that took a world of strength. Colton could learn a lot from someone like her, and a part of him wondered if he would ever get the chance to. If Rachel ever forgave him, and in a perfect world where they could be together, he and Andi, and even Ford, would likely become good friends.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” she asked, breaking through his thoughts.

  Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his damp palms on his pants. “I don’t expect you to want to help me. I’m here because I want Rachel back, but I realize that may not be possible, so I at least want to make things up to her, in some way, if I can. I don’t regret lying to her. I had to.”

  Andi’s eyes darkened, but he forged on. “It’s part of my job. Covering up my identity is essential. I gather information, I solve cases, and I put criminals in jail. It’s what I do, and I love it. I will never stop doing what’s right. It’s important that you know that, and if Rachel ever agrees to talk to me again and hear me out, then it’s important she understand that, as well. I can’t be someone I’m not. But I do regret that she got hurt in the process. I never wanted that and it certainly wasn’t my intention, even if it was the result.

  “But I don’t regret my relationship with her either. Falling for her was never part of the plan; it just happened. And I’m glad it did because I love her. She’s the first woman I have ever fully trusted. The only person I’ve ever willingly opened up to. The only one I’ve ever shared my daughter with.

  “My head tells me we’re hopeless. That she and I could never work under the circumstances. But my heart, and my daughter, tell me otherwise.” He paused, smiling as he thought of Molly and her persistence.

  Andi clucked her tongue and clasped her hands in front of her, her eyes softening. “I wish I could say that I can help, but I’m not sure...” she trailed off.

  “I know. That’s not really why I’m here. But how is she?”

  Andi gave him a small smile. “She’s getting better. I think she’s coming to terms with everything that’s happened. She got her own place and is trying to build a life for herself. If I’m being honest with you, although I was upset that you allowed her to fall for you, knowing what you did, you changed her.” Andi rubbed the back of her neck and sunk back into her chair. “If not for you, I don’t know if she ever would’ve changed her life. You’ve softened her. You’ve made her want to be better. And I can’t be mad at you for that. I don’t even think she can. She just needs time...And if anyone knows about being thrown to the wolves in the media, it’s Ford and I, so we’re helping her.”

  Colton nodded. “Maybe. I’m glad she has you guys to help her.” He said nothing for a moment, lost in his thoughts of her, glad to hear that she was working on her independence. “The reason I’m here is because I botched Rachel’s attempt at helping your friend when I ended the investigation so soon. She told me some of her situation, and if there’s one advantage to falling for an FBI agent who just solved a huge case, it’s that I might be granted a favor or two. It’ll require some concessions on Carma’s part, but I’ve talked with Mr. Peach and the prose
cution. They’re willing to lower the charges. She might spend thirty days in jail, at the most. There’s no jail space in Callaway, which works to her advantage. She can get off light. With a small sentence, maybe do some community service.”

  Andi’s friendly smile vanished. Her brow knotted and she frowned. “Why are you doing this? Because you want Rachel back?”

  Colton met her eyes. “No. I mean, I do want her back. But let’s just say I’ve had some firsthand encounters with abused women—maybe not sexually, but abused all the same—at the hands of cowardly men, and I want to help. I know what it’s like to live in fear. A part of me understands what Carma did. It doesn’t excuse it,” he said shaking his head, thinking of his mother, her kind eyes, her warm embrace—and a knot formed in his chest. “If more tried to escape though, no matter the means, they’d be better off.”

  Andi eyed him, before standing and crossing the room. She pushed her dark hair from her face, then reached out and took his hand and squeezed. Then, sitting next to him, she placed an arm around his shoulders, saying nothing for a moment, allowing him to his thoughts of Rachel, of his mother. Then she whispered, “Rachel would be lucky to have you.”

  Nodding, Colton swallowed over the ache in his throat and blinking against the emotion stinging his eyes. Then he sat in silence, the best friend of the woman he loved propping him up.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Four weeks later...

  “Perfect,” Rachel said to herself, as she stepped back and assessed her handiwork. She spent the last three hours rearranging furniture in her new apartment, all in preparation of Carma’s homecoming. She wanted everything to look flawless, to be warm and inviting.

  An ivory crib sat across from the queen size bed in Carma’s room, everything in muted shades of lavender and cream. A changing table flanked the crib and a small dresser finished off the space. The baby furniture was a gift from her and Andi. A giant red bow adorned the thick wooden rails of the crib.