by Cate Cameron
The door opened then, and Cal’s mind lost the ability to consider words, or much of anything else. He’d seen Zara on television, in interviews and magazine shoots. He’d known that the angry duckling had turned into a beautiful, though still angry, swan. But the images from his memory were nothing compared to the warm, breathing, three-dimensional woman standing in front of him. No makeup that he could discern, blond hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, wearing sweats and a beat-up Ramones T-shirt, and still the most perfect woman he’d ever seen.
“Zane’s in the shower,” she said, obviously not nearly as impressed by him as he was by her. “It’s his third one since we got here. If he’s in there for another two minutes, I’m sending you down to check on him.”
“Okay,” Cal managed. Yeah, she was beautiful. But she didn’t want anything to do with him and he needed to remember that. “Should I wait outside?”
She squinted at him as if trying to decide if he was setting a trap or just stupid. “You can come in,” she finally said.
He stepped inside, schooling himself to go straight ahead and not give in to the feeling that his entire body was being pulled magnetically toward her.
“You want a beer while you wait?” she asked as she strolled toward the back of the house, her perfect, strong, round ass drawing his gaze so powerfully he was pretty sure his eyes were actually bugging out of his head.
“Sure,” he heard himself saying. Apparently a tiny part of his brain was still functioning, more or less. He stumbled after her, scolding himself as he went. Zane’s baby sister. Zane’s baby sister. Off-limits. When that didn’t calm his libido, he tried, Thinks you’re a douche. Thinks you’re a douche, and had slightly better results.
The beer was on the top shelf of the fridge so she didn’t have to bend over much to reach it, and that was probably just as well. She used the lower half of her shirt to protect her hand as she twisted the caps off two bottles, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of toned belly, then handed one to him and moved over to perch on a stool at the breakfast bar.
“You’re okay to be drinking?” he asked. “You know, with your head?”
“My head is none of your business,” she replied, and took a healthy swig of her beer. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then she sighed as if physically releasing her grudge. “You’re going to take care of him, right?” She waited, apparently realized that he had no idea what she was talking about, and impatiently said, “Zane? You’re going to keep an eye on him? Not let him get in any trouble?” She took another swig of beer while he struggled for words, then blurted out, “He’s not . . . he’s still adjusting. Obviously. It’s a big change. I get that. It’s totally natural, or whatever. All part of the process.” She paused, apparently hoping Cal would have something to say, then shook her head. “This had better not be some big piss-up tonight, is what I’m saying. He’s still on parole. They can drag him back if he messes up. And it’s more than that. It’s not just about them, but about him—he needs this to work. You know?”
“I do,” Cal finally managed. “We’re not planning anything big tonight. Just going into town for a beer or two, probably. You can come if you want.”
“I don’t think Zane wants that.” She sighed. “And I have to trust him out of my sight, right? I mean, he’s a grown man. He’s not stupid. But—”
She broke off, taking a deep breath to regain her control, and Cal wrapped his fingers around the counter in front of him, using its solidity to anchor himself in place. His body knew what it needed to do. He was a man, and she was a woman . . . a goddess . . . damn it, whatever she was, she was upset and he should be over there, wrapping his arms around her and giving comfort and protection.
He wondered how bad she’d hurt him if he tried. Just pain, or would she go for an actual maiming?
“You need to take care of him,” she finally said.
It may as well have been a royal decree. “I will,” he vowed.
Zane arrived then. He was wearing loose jeans and an even looser T-shirt, as if the clothes had been bought for him by someone who thought he was larger than he was. His hair was wet, his face a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety.
“Hey,” Cal said quietly. He stood up, moved forward, and stopped. He wasn’t much of a hugger normally, but somehow he’d found himself tempted to embrace twice in the last few minutes. This time was less likely to result in bodily harm, though. And after he’d spent a decade sitting across a counter from Zane with a strict no-contact rule, a hug seemed like a good way to emphasize that things were now different. Unless Zane wasn’t ready for that. Cal half lifted his arms, ready to convert the hug into a shoulder slap as needed.
But Zane was there. Strong and solid, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cal, held on just a moment longer than might have been strictly casual, then let go before it was awkward. “Good to see you,” he said.
It had only been a week since their last visit, but Cal couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. “Good to see you, too.” Maybe there was more that they could have said, but they didn’t need to. Zane was free, and his best friend was there for him. That was all that mattered. The world had been upside down for far too long, and now it was finally turning itself upright again.
That was when Cal noticed Zara. The smile was frozen on her face, and her fingers gripped her beer bottle so tightly the knuckles were turning white. What the hell? Had Cal screwed up already? Was he not watching Zane according to her specifications?
“You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
He wouldn’t have thought her smile could get any tighter, but she managed. “No, Zane wants some time without his baby sister in his hair.”
And Zane, damn him, didn’t disagree. He just shrugged, his eyes fixed on the air somewhere over her shoulder and said, “We’ll be working together starting tomorrow, right?”
“That’s the plan,” she agreed, and took a big swig of her beer. “Okay, then.” She jerked her head in dismissal, but she was the one who started moving. “I’m going to unpack some stuff.” She sent a look in Cal’s direction, a strange sort of pleading glare. A reminder of his promise to look out for Zane, he figured. As if he needed to be reminded.
“We probably won’t be late,” he said. A bit awkward, trying to calm her down without making Zane feel like he was being dictated to. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t known there’d be some challenges.
“Let’s go,” Zane prompted, and Cal left his half-finished beer on the counter. This was Zane’s first night of freedom; Zane was in charge.
Four
THE TOWN HAD shrunk. Not its actual boundaries . . . there were actually a few new buildings sprawled out on the edges of the place. But the buildings. They were smaller than they used to be.
Rationally, Zara knew that was nonsense. A mad scientist hadn’t used a shrink ray on the place. But the red brick bank with its white roof and columns . . . it loomed huge in Zara’s memory, an imposing shrine to everything she hadn’t had. Now it looked like a toy.
She kept walking, past the post office, which also seemed like a child’s model, along the patch of grass by the war memorial, which had always seemed small, past a small storefront with a cheerful-looking woman placing some pottery in the window—and Zara stopped in her tracks when she got to the corner and looked down the side street.
There had to be a mistake. There was simply no way that could be—she took a few steps closer, as if it would make a difference. That was the school? It wasn’t just smaller than she’d remembered, but also so much dingier. Mrs. Brady, who’d accused Zara of stealing the field trip money when the whole class knew it had been that other kid, Aaron somebody-or-other . . . that woman had been working in this building? When she’d marched Zara down to the principal’s office, her hands gripping Zara’s shoulders so tight, the hallway had seemed en
dless—but how long could it possibly have been?
Zara craned her neck to see if the building had some sort of strange addition not visible from the street, but she knew it didn’t. She wasn’t sure if the hallway had been stretched by her fears at the time or by her anger over the years since, but clearly the scale of it was all in her mind. She looked around the little town. Clearly a lot of things had been expanded in her mind.
She made herself start moving again. She’d spent the morning at the shiny new community center, getting trained on safety procedures and how to use scheduling software and fifty other things that weren’t even remotely interesting, so when she and Zane had been given a lunch break, she’d practically sprinted for the door. Zane had decided to stay behind and practice on the computer, which was just plain masochistic, but that was his problem. She’d needed out.
Of course, being outside wasn’t as easy as it should have been, not with all the memories, and the confusion about what was real and what wasn’t.
She found the café the trainer at the community center had recommended and ducked inside as if she were escaping a bitter winter wind. This place was new. She couldn’t remember what business had used the space when she’d been younger, but it didn’t really matter. New was good. No memories to worry about.
She stepped back out of the way and took a look at the chalkboard behind the counter. That was when she became aware of the man standing by the register, squinting in her direction.
“Zara Hale?” he asked. He was youngish, fit looking, maybe a bit too ruggedly handsome for her tastes; he looked wholesome, and in Zara’s experience that meant trouble. Wholesome men didn’t tend to think much of women like her.
She moved one of her legs back a little into a balanced stance and made sure she had room to swing her arms, if she had to. “Yeah?”
He smiled then. “Welcome back.” He waited a second, then prompted, “I’m Josh Sullivan. Went to school with Zane? I heard he was back, too. That’s good.”
She relaxed a little, but not completely. “Josh Sullivan?” The last name was familiar obviously, but the first? She’d heard it certainly, but in what context? Everyone in Lake Sullivan went to the same school; being classmates wasn’t the same as being friends.
He nodded, then looked at the woman beside him. She’d been joking with the server, but was smiling at Zara now. She was wearing casual jeans and a thermal shirt, but she looked more like someone pretending to be working class than someone who actually was. Zara couldn’t quite figure out what was giving that impression until Josh said, “This is Ashley Carlsen. She’s spending the winter up here.”
“Ashley Carlsen,” Zara repeated, and did a little squinting of her own. “You’re an actor.”
“And you’re Zara Hale,” Ashley responded with a smile. “MMA. I’ve been seeing your posters all over town. I admit it, I’m too much of a wimp to watch the fights, but I love that women are making names in it. Way to go!”
Zara felt like she’d been braced for a blow that clearly wasn’t coming, and she was a bit off balance as a result. What the hell was Ashley Carlsen doing in Lake Sullivan? And she’d actually heard of Zara? It was way too surreal, and knowing she was gaping like a fish pulled out of the lake didn’t actually make it any easier for her to collect her thoughts.
Josh seemed to take pity on her, turning away, but then he was back, having reached behind the counter to grab a pen and pad of paper. “If I give you my number, can you give it to Zane?”
“And we’re having people over this weekend.” Ashley looked up at Josh with a sickeningly adoring smile. “We’re just back in town and Josh has about five million people in his family, so it seemed best to say ‘hi’ to everyone all at once. It’s supposed to be sunny on Saturday, so we’re grilling.” She leaned a little closer to add, “But they’re all going to be Josh’s gang. I don’t really know that many people up here yet. It’d be great to have someone who was at least neutral, you know? Someone who hasn’t known Josh since he was in diapers, with all their in-jokes and family stories.”
“It’s not just family,” Josh said quickly. “Pretty much everyone’s invited. You should come, and bring Zane. Everyone would love to see him.”
“Saturday for dinner,” Ashley said. “But come midafternoon and hang out if the weather’s good. Josh, write down directions, too.”
Josh did as he was told. Zara blinked hard. She felt like she’d just been sent through a strange carwash and been buffed with friendliness from all sides. It was way too much.
“How long are you in town for?” Ashley asked.
“Uh . . . I don’t really know. A couple months maybe?” Zara managed to add, “You?” before falling back into her confusion.
Ashley beamed as she said, “Forever. We live here now . . . we just might have to leave town for a few months to work now and then.”
“You’re living here,” Zara said flatly. “Lake Sullivan. You live here now. Voluntarily.”
“Yeah,” Ashley said, her smile faltering just a little. “Are you not happy to be back? You don’t like it here?”
Somehow, Zara didn’t have the heart to rain on this woman’s parade. “I’m just getting used to it,” she said. Lame, but true enough, and it was nice to see Ashley’s beam go back up to full wattage.
Josh handed her the slip of paper and the couple finally left. Zara took a deep breath and tried to remember what she’d been doing before being caught up in it all.
The woman behind the counter gave her a sympathetic grin. “They’re a bit much,” she said as if agreeing to something Zara had actually said out loud. “Too damn happy all the time.” She shrugged. “But it’s kinda cute, really. Josh has always been so quiet.”
Why was Zara hearing about this? Why was the woman telling her anything? “I need two sandwiches,” she said, trying to get the conversation back to somewhere approximately where it should be. She had no idea what food Zane liked these days, so maybe she should just ask the server for whatever their most popular sandwich was, but even that level of personal service suddenly seemed like too much. “Both turkey and bacon, I guess.”
The woman nodded and got to work, letting the conversation flow back to questions about types of bread and choices of condiments, and Zara started to relax. But as she was heading out the door, the server called, “You should come Saturday. It’s going to be a lot of fun,” and Zara’s shoulders tightened again.
She didn’t answer, just made a noncommittal sound and got the hell out. It was a bad sign when the community center she’d been so happy to escape from was now seeming like a sanctuary, a place to get away from all this invasive friendliness.
Still, she kept the scrap of paper with Josh’s phone number and directions on it, and she passed the invitation along to Zane when she saw him.
“Yeah?” he said, frowning. “I don’t know. It’s a big thing? I’m not sure if I really want to go to some big thing.”
It would have been so much easier to ignore it. Zara certainly didn’t have any interest in the event. But Josh had sounded genuinely interested in seeing Zane again; and Zara might just be visiting Lake Sullivan, but Zane was back to stay. He needed to make some friends besides Calvin Montgomery. “We could stop by,” she said tentatively. “And then if it’s too much, we could leave.”
Zane shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s play it by ear.”
“Sounds good,” Zara said, and they ate their sandwiches in companionable silence.
* * *
“I’VE been getting phone calls,” Cal’s mother said. Claire Montgomery was impeccably put-together, as always, but the frown that creased her forehead was unusual. “A little worse than we anticipated, actually. My circle contributed significantly to this project, because they trust me, and they’re feeling as if that trust is being abused. They point out that the community center is a community concern, not a make-work project for
your childhood friend.”
Cal snorted. “The sponsorship money we’re getting from the MMA guys is significantly more than we’re paying Zane Hale. We wouldn’t be getting that money if Zara wasn’t involved, and Zara wouldn’t be involved if Zane wasn’t. So if all your friends are worried about is their money, they can stop worrying.” He gave her a chance to respond, but when she just kept frowning at him, he nodded. “But they’re not really worried about the money, are they? They’re worried about how it looks.”
There weren’t that many women in his mother’s “circle,” not that many ladies of leisure in their corner of Vermont. The women were gathered from a radius of about an hour’s drive, with Lake Sullivan close to the middle; they donated money and time for fund-raising, but they weren’t daily visitors to the community center. They didn’t really know what was going on. Still, they felt qualified to judge. “After twenty years of working his ass off to deal with his absent mother and useless father and to look after his baby sister, Zane hit a wall. It was too much for him. If he’d been one of ‘us’? If he’d had a family monitoring his behavior, ready to step in if he got out of line? If he’d had the money to go away for a while, take a break, get some support? If any of that had been there for him, things would have been different. But nobody helped him.” Cal had tried, he told himself. But he’d been a kid himself, away at school for the first time, and he’d let himself drift away from his best friend when that friend had needed him most. But now he was making up for it. “After twenty years, he lost control for less than a week. He still didn’t hurt a fly. But, yeah, he broke some laws. Wrecked some stuff, stole some stuff. It was wrong. He gets that. He spent ten years getting that. Jesus, isn’t that enough?”
“Oh, spare me your speeches.” His mother sounded impatient rather than angry. She’d been raised working class before marrying into money, and her experiences had left her practical, but not hard-hearted. “Nobody’s trying to punish him more than he already has been. But what’s his job exactly? What will he be doing?”