“You can’t really think there’s a club for something like this? That what happened to Hannah happens all the time?”
“No, of course not, but—”
“It would make things a lot easier for you, wouldn’t it?”
IT LITERALLY KNOCKED HER back a step. His words. The violence of them. Everything in her grew still and cold. “Nick, I know you’re hurting, but you know that’s not true.”
He shook his head, just seemed to deflate.
Even wounded, she moved toward him, wanting only to soothe, but he stepped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at her, his voice as empty as Hannah’s. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
She didn’t blame him for the anger he felt. Understood he had nowhere concrete to aim it. It was something, she thought, but it wasn’t a sorry for the words. Or even more for the sentiment.
But it was true, she had been late. He didn’t have to say it. There wasn’t a day that she didn’t think, what if. On that, she was the same as Nick. What if she’d been on time? What if she’d been there early and waiting?
The silence thickened the air. The space between them that had never been there before, not even in the years they were physically miles apart but had been growing for the past eighteen months grew wider. And she didn’t know how to fix it.
Chapter 15
Present day…
NICK WAITED FOR MCKINNEY to close his office door before shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back. Stephen McKinney had come wanting to know what had happened to Hannah, and he’d told him. All of it. To punish or test, he wasn’t sure, but he’d wanted McKinney to know.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn the man for dredging up the details of his past. For bringing it all back in vivid color. He could still smell the scent of death. Still see the dark and dank basement then Hannah, so small, so still. Lifeless. It had changed him, losing Hannah, then finding her the way he had. But McKinney hadn’t been there then. No, that sin lay squarely on his shoulders. He was the one who had let evil touch his baby sister.
Nick had to give the man credit. His face had gone white, but he’d stood up to the facts. He’d also seen the dark hatred burning in Stephen’s eyes for the man who’d hurt Hannah. Nick appreciated that. And his sister obviously cared about him.
Nick still didn’t like the man just out of principle, but he did respect him for not backing away. Did he think for one second this guy would be around to watch out for his sister long term? Not at all.
But maybe everything didn’t have to be long term. Maybe Hannah needed to experience men, and dating, and, God help him, even heartbreak. The thought that he’d knowingly stand back and let that happen burned.
There was a brisk knock, and Mike stuck his head in Nick’s office. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Was that the guy you want to shoot?” Mike asked, gesturing out the door behind him.
“Yeah.”
“And you just let him walk out of here?”
“Seems my sister has different ideas.”
“Huh. Want me to have him followed?”
“Nah.”
Confused, Mike came in and sat on the corner of his desk. “You okay?”
Nick picked up a coffee mug, started to drink, then remembered how long it had been sitting there. “Yeah. Fine. What’s up?”
“Well, first off, I figured that was McKinney, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t calling out a hit squad.”
“No. Just about to do some yoga, breathing, you know.”
“No shit?”
“What? No. Man, I’m joking.” He searched his desk for a semifresh cup of liquid fuel. “What was the second thing?”
“I was just headed out. Something I wanted to ask you first.” Mike reached into a fast-food bag on his desk and pulled out a handful of day-old fries. Maybe two-day-old. He couldn’t remember. Mike ate them without comment.
“Okay. So… the wife thing. She’s still not talking to me. I tried flowers. She put them down the disposal. Damn, but my Teresa’s got a temper.” He grinned. “Come on, I know you must have some tricks, some shiny words to melt a woman’s heart.”
“Why in the hell would you think that?”
“Well, you’ve always got women on your tail.” Mike laughed his deep, bold laugh. “And you’ve got your sister. I figured you’d know what they like. How to make them happy.”
Nick stared at the papers on his desk, thinking of Mia outside the coffee shop yesterday. What had he said? It was the same? After ten years? Fuck. He’d meant… he didn’t know what the hell he’d meant. Falling into her eyes was the same? The feel of her cheek against his palm was the same?
Now he was convincing himself he wasn’t crazy after all. It was the same.
But it wasn’t.
“Shit, Mike. If you only knew how wrong you were.”
* * *
MIA WORKED AS LATE as she could on Friday, dreading the hours that would drag through the weekend. Maybe a movie tonight. A double feature. She stopped at a traffic light, considering going home to change or getting gas first. She chose the gas and stood in the warm evening air at the pump. The summer sun was just beginning its slow slide toward the horizon.
The thoughts of Savannah that used to fill every quiet moment were now joined by memories of Nick. Was that all she was meant to have of people she loved? Memories?
A shiny black sports car pulled up on the opposite side of the pump, and a nice-looking man got out. He made eye contact, smiled. Uninterested, she turned to face her car.
It wasn’t like she’d made a definitive decision against being intimate with anyone so much as it just hadn’t ever been right. If she knew it wasn’t right, knew it wasn’t a man she truly wanted, she saw no point. There’d been times she’d thought she might find another right person, but mostly, she’d always known she wouldn’t.
Did Nick smile at women at gas stations? The question came before she could stop it.
She pulled up the local movie app on her phone and scanned the list. If she went to two movies, could she get two popcorns? She’d have to if she wanted it to be fresh. Really, it was only fair to start each movie with its own fresh popcorn. Her first one could be considered dinner if she made the M&Ms peanut. Considering the peanut-to-chocolate ratio, they were really more protein than dessert.
The pump shut off, and she went through the series of buttons to finish. As soon as she started her car, her phone buzzed, signaling a missed call.
“Miss James, Larry Stamper. I got your message.”
Fifth message, Mia thought.
“I apologize for the delay. I did try to reach out to the biological parents through the adoption agency and found they no longer live at that address.”
So we have no idea where she is. My baby, and I don’t even know where she is.
“I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear, but… you know they were not legally obligated to continue contact. As difficult as it is, I suggest you try to move past this,” he said, his voice kind, fatherly. “You can petition for another adoption. The agency has already agreed to a legal obligation to find you another available child.”
No. She tried to swallow. Just no.
Then, calling herself all kinds of coward, she turned the car around. She didn’t really need to change clothes and didn’t want to go home. Sitting in a dark theatre alone was preferable.
It worked, for a while. The action and covert-ops scenarios of the movies helped to take her mind off her own life, but afterward, she still wasn’t ready to go home. She drove around the quiet streets for a half hour before stopping.
It took Mia only a minute to get from her car to Nick’s door. It took a great deal longer than that to make herself knock. Nick’s house. One she’d never been to. Where he lived and ate and slept.
“God, what am I doing?” Her hands were shaking so badly, she twisted them over each other. It was late, really late, but the lights were on inside.
Her pulse jumped with a growing apprehension as she stepped up to knock. What if there was a woman there? What if he didn’t eat and sleep alone? She didn’t see any extra cars, but he could easily have brought someone home. That was just like him, driving a woman rather than having them drive alone.
Battering nerves sent a wave of sickness crawling through her. She raised her hand then lowered it. She couldn’t do this.
* * *
NICK TOOK A BEER out of the fridge, held it long enough for drops of moisture to gather, then put it back. He didn’t need a drink. Well, he did. His sister was out of town with McKinney; that alone was enough to make him edgier than usual.
With his elbows on the counter, he held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Hannah’s words echoed in his head.
How can I forget when you always remind me?
Had he done that? Reminded his sister of the past by trying to protect her? Had he been wrong all these years? The self-defense, the gun, the constant cautionary reminders?
And then Mia. God, he tried hard not to think about her. He’d gotten good enough at it over the years that he could pretend there was no ache when he thought about her.
He heard Hannah telling him she needed room and Mia telling him it wasn’t the same. He thought of Luke. He’d screwed up so many times and in so many different ways, he didn’t know anything anymore.
He decided on coffee and was reaching into the cabinet for a mug when a knock at the door stopped him. It was almost midnight, and his mind raced through scenarios like a grim news feed.
It was Hannah, and she’d come home early because something had happened.
It wasn’t Hannah. Because something had happened and she couldn’t come home.
Nick swung open the door to find neither. Mia. Her dark hair brushed the shoulders of a white sleeveless blouse. Black jeans hugged her legs and tapered narrowly at the bottom. Her lips were full and pink, her eyes dark and clear.
He stared until she shivered. “Sorry. Come in.” He stepped back into the space, gesturing for her to follow. “I was just starting coffee.”
She walked past, and the same scent from years ago wrapped around him.
“Still drinking coffee at midnight?” She smiled. “No. Thanks.”
Mia stopped beside the couch, her hands nervously working the clasp on her purse, twisting it open then snapping it closed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late.” Her lips were pressed together, and she held herself so tightly he thought she might break apart.
“I’m up. Working.”
“Right. I’m interrupting.”
“Not so much. Why are you up? And out?” The question as to why she was here, exactly, went unsaid.
“I went to a movie. Two, actually. I made it a double-feature night. I do that sometimes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes. It’s nice, and there’s no talking anyway, so it really makes more sense to go alone.”
He studied her face, her hands twisting one over the other. She’d always loved going to the movies with him, holding hands, sharing popcorn, rehashing it in the car afterward. “You always said it was the perfect date, dinner and a movie.”
“Did I? Oh.” Her gaze fell away into more silence before she spoke again. “Have you heard from Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. I was going to tell you I’d heard from her. In case you were worried.”
“Thanks.” She was offering an olive branch, and he was more than willing to take it.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I have a choice?” He let out a heavy breath, ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “Scratch that. I know I don’t have a choice.” He sighed again. “I was just sitting here thinking about that. And you.”
She tilted her head. “Really? Why me?”
So many answers to that. “I was thinking that I don’t know what I’m doing. How much I hate that and how you were always the one that made me feel like I was doing okay.”
Understanding eyes met his. “I wanted to.”
They both knew she hadn’t been able to that last time. The most important time. “I know.”
“You have to let her make her own decisions, though. Making choices and living with outcomes is how you learn. It’s life.”
He almost said how much he didn’t want to talk about living with outcomes.
“I know it’s hard for you. I know you worry.”
He nodded, zeroing in on Mia’s voice and her soft words for him. Amazing that she had soft words for him after all this time. “How did you know where I lived?”
“It was Hannah’s address. I’d seen it and…I remembered it.”
He nodded, waited. The years or circumstances or both had scraped out new people, and now there was all the distance between them.
On second thought, he would have that beer. Abruptly he turned, strode to the refrigerator, and pulled out the bottle he’d recently put back. “A beer?” He held out a second one. “Or you can wait on the coffee. Or there’s water.”
“No, thanks.” She wandered across the room, stopping in front of one of two bookshelves that bordered the red-brick fireplace. He took a long swallow from the bottle, trying to gather himself and the fact that the only woman he’d ever loved was standing in his living room.
It was one big space. Kitchen, eating area, and den with fireplace and TV. A certified man space, Hannah called it. Plain, no color. A small, ranch-style home built in the late seventies, as was evident with the dark-paneled walls. He hadn’t done much more than replace the maroon carpet. Hannah had done her best, but she’d taken the colorful heirloom quilts with her. The only color in the room was Mia, which was fitting, given the way his life had gone from gray to color when he met her.
Slowly she picked up an old and yellowed snow globe. The Statue of Liberty in murky water. “You kept it.”
Chapter 16
“YES.”
She jerked at his voice, not noticing that he’d come to stand right behind her, close enough to bury his nose in her hair, trail his lips along her shoulder if he lowered his head.
Neither spoke for the longest time, just watched the few bits of white swirl and sink. Pieces of their past.
“It was a good memory,” he finally said, speaking softly like if they stayed quiet they could keep that moment from their past in the here and now.
“Yes,” she whispered. “We had a lot of those.” She replaced the snow globe carefully and turned, a real smile on her pretty lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without getting dressed.”
He smiled too. Their first shared smile in so long. Longer than the ten years they’d been apart. “A damn good memory.” The two of them locked away in that hotel room oblivious to the world outside buried in white. Going from bed to shower to wall, making love, eating, making love again.
It seemed they could step right back into that, but bizarre that they’d even have to step back. He’d concluded over the years that there was never one reason things ended between two people who loved each other. It was rarely simple or one sided. Looking back, it wasn’t clear. Nothing had been clear to him then.
Maybe it had been clearer for her.
A moment passed, searching her eyes, all the feelings of the past and present welling up inside him. It might not be the same, but it was all still there. There was something there for her too. She couldn’t hide her feelings for him; they rolled off of her in waves. There was desire in her eyes too, he could see it, but with it there was also pain and anger. And sadness.
She swallowed nervously and looked away. “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”
Funny, it didn’t matter. It was enough that she was. “Do you want to sit?”
She didn’t answer but followed him to the couch, sitting on the opposite end with enough space for a third to sit between them. They looked at each other several times, then away. God. Where did they even begin?
She huffed out a brit
tle laugh and shook her head.
He shook his, too. “I don’t know where to start.”
She looked down at her hands in her lap. “Neither do I.”
“Who was the baby?”
Her dark gaze flew to his. The pain he saw there was a stab to his heart, but he wouldn’t apologize for going straight to what was important. Mia was too important to sit and talk about things that didn’t matter.
She rolled her lips together, her teeth biting into the soft, plump skin. Deciding if she would tell him? He knew her well enough to know it wasn’t as simple as a photo of a friend’s child. His mind raced with possibilities. The most logical being she’d been married even though she wasn’t now.
“I adopted a child. A little girl. I had her for nine months. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The mother changed her mind,” she said, looking down at her lap, shaking her head against what she was saying. “It happens.”
But it shouldn’t have happened to her. He moved closer and took her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again, knowing how much that would have hurt her, still hurt. And he couldn’t stop himself from thinking the child in that picture should have been theirs.
She nodded, stared at his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.
“Who was the man you were with the other day?”
She pulled her hand free, and he was almost sorry he’d asked. Almost.
“Brian? A friend and a private investigator. I was asking him for help.”
“What kind of help?”
She looked at him a moment until he thought she wouldn’t tell him. “I needed help getting some information. Just want information. That’s all,” she added emphatically. “I just need to know she’s okay.”
The baby. He wondered if she knew she sounded like she was trying to convince herself that was all she wanted.
“Brian said…”
She hesitated, and anger welled up inside him that she would be talking so easily with another man about something she couldn’t seem to or didn’t want to share with him.
Worth the Wait (McKinney/Walker #1) Page 12