by Terri Osburn
“This is far enough,” Chance said, and their driver stopped the car. “Relax for a bit, Victor. We’re going to watch the stars.”
“Yes, sir.” The window slid back into place as Chance scooted to the edge of the seat.
“Well?” He watched her with raised brows. “You go up first.”
“Up where?”
“There.” He pointed at the sky. “Climb through the opening so we can lie on the roof.”
She would do no such thing. “Are you crazy? I’m not getting on top of this car.”
“Sure you are.” Taking her by surprise, Chance lifted her off the seat and through the sunroof before she could squeal in response. Once her bottom landed on the top of the car, he maneuvered himself through the opening and sat down beside her. “Now lie back.”
Naomi felt like a fool, perched atop a jet-black limousine in the middle of a stranger’s field—a stranger who was probably going to show up any minute, shotgun in hand, to chase off the trespassers.
“You have lost your—”
Before she could finish, Chance dropped back and tugged her with him. The moment Naomi’s shoulder blades hit the car, the air went out of her argument.
“Oh my gosh. This is gorgeous.”
“I know. That’s why I bought the land.”
“Wait.” Naomi leaned up on an elbow. “You own this?”
Chance pulled her back down. “Relax, Nay. Just breathe for a minute. Can you do that?”
Actually, she couldn’t. Which was why she’d failed at every attempt to meditate.
“Of course I can.” Willing herself to relax, she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how to breathe. She just didn’t know how to breathe and not do anything else. “Victor is going to think we’re weird.”
Now Chance raised up on an elbow. “Good God, woman. It’s a simple procedure. Air in. Air out. Mouth shut.” Settling back, he slid his fingers through hers. “Try it again.”
Feeling like a scolded child, Naomi stuck her tongue out at the moon.
“I saw that.”
“Good for you.”
Seconds passed before she noticed Chance’s thumb rubbing back and forth on her hand. The touch soothed her, and soon the tension left her shoulders. Another breath and her back seemed to melt against the cool car. When Chance sighed beside her, she did the same, eyes locked on a pitch-black sky dotted with glittering lights.
“When I was a kid,” Chance said, voice quiet as if speaking in a sacred place, “there was a spot like this in the field behind our trailer. I used to hide out there when I needed to get away.”
Chance had never mentioned his childhood to her before. And in all the interviews she’d ever seen, he’d avoided the subject entirely.
Sensing an opening, she asked, “What were you getting away from?”
His grip tightened. “A lot of things.”
Turning to face him, Naomi watched a thick lock of hair flutter in the breeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
No answer came for nearly a minute, and she feared he would close up again. Shut her out, the way he shut everyone out. And then he turned toward her.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Wayne Ransick was a son of a bitch,” Chance began, the words feeling good on his tongue. “He married my mom when I was six. By the time I was eight, she was a full-blown alcoholic.”
If Naomi had offered any pity, Chance would have stopped right there. Instead, she said, “Life with him must have been hard on her.”
Hard didn’t begin to describe it. “I’m pretty sure the first time he hit her was on their honeymoon. Shelly and I spent that week at Wayne’s sister’s house. She wasn’t much better than he was.”
“Where was Shelly’s mother?”
Chance debated whether or not to answer. Telling his own facts was one thing. Telling Shelly’s was another. He opted for vague.
“Not around. Anyway, by the time I was ten, I’d gotten pretty good at reading Wayne’s moods. I could tell when a beating was coming, and I’d find my spot out in the field.” He’d also hidden out there when Wayne had beaten his mother. When he’d been too little to help her.
Naomi looked back at the stars. “Did your mom not protect you?”
His chest tightened like an elephant had just taken a seat. “She tried. Once. Wayne hit her so hard, she couldn’t hear for a week. After that, she tried to keep me out of sight, but that didn’t work for long. Eventually, she gave up. We were both trapped.”
“But she wasn’t trapped. You were a kid, but she was a grown woman. She could have taken you and left.”
That always sounded so easy to people who had never lived with violence.
“I used to think that, too. Even hated her for a while.” The bullfrogs joined the crickets’ song, creating a soundtrack for his ugly tale. “But when the tables turned, when I was bigger than Wayne, I tried to save her. I would have killed him if Shelly hadn’t stopped me.”
“I don’t blame you. Did your mom get away from him?”
With a cynical chuckle, he said, “Things only happen that way in the movies. No, Debra stayed. I was eighteen, so Wayne pressed charges. She backed him up, and even told the police where to find me.”
Naomi closed her eyes and moonlight glistened off the tear that slid over her temple. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Shifting her weight, Naomi rolled to her side and placed her hand on his chest. “No one should ever have to endure what you’ve been through, Chance. Especially an innocent child. But there’s pride in surviving it. You’re strong and protective and kind. Some men would have gone the other way. Perpetuated the cycle. But you didn’t.”
She was forgetting one crucial fact. “I’m an alcoholic, Nay. Same as them.”
“No.” With a firm grip, she turned his face her way. “You’re nothing like them. Have you ever laid hands on an innocent child?”
“That isn’t—”
“Answer me. Have you ever laid hands on an innocent child?”
Chance met her shadowed gaze. “No.”
“Have you ever hit a woman?”
“No.”
Rising up, she braced on her elbow and leaned over him. “Are you drinking your life away in a trailer somewhere?”
“I could end up there.”
“But you won’t.”
Chance wished he had half her certainty. “How do you know that?”
She touched a finger to his lips. “Because I know you.”
Sliding his hand into her hair, Chance pulled her closer. “Earlier tonight, you told your mom that you cared about me. Was that part of the act?”
Naomi turned to kiss his palm. “No.”
They lingered there, her hair tickling his chest as his thumb trailed across her cheek. When he couldn’t wait another second, Chance tugged her down, taking her lips with his while lifting her body atop his own. Naomi settled between his legs as her hands drove into his hair. She tasted of parmesan and butter and willing woman. When he licked her lips, she opened for him and sucked on his tongue as it slid between her teeth. They nipped and bit and she purred when Chance suckled her ear.
“Stay with me tonight, Nay.”
Rising up, she panted as their breath mingled in the night air. Chance watched the thoughts flit across her face. The battle with herself, whether to give in to desire or let logic win and demand he take her home. He wouldn’t have blamed her for turning him down. Not after how he’d hurt her in the past.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter 18
Naomi hoped Chance had been telling the truth about the sliding glass behind Victor, because they spent the short drive from the field to Chance’s front door doing things behind that window that she did not want the driver to see. Not that she’d taken April’s advice, but clothes had required straightening by the time the driver came around to let them out.
Once her feet touched the ground,
Naomi looked up to find a sprawling two-story cabin looming before her. A long porch ran the length of the house, with three ceiling fans spinning in the night breeze. Climbing the four steps at the closest end, she crossed to the first rocking chair and saw the arms were worn from use. Strolling farther, she discovered a cat perched inside one window, illuminated by a lamp inside and by the clear bulbs glowing in each of the porch ceiling fans.
“You must be Willie,” she said to the striped puffball eying her closely. He didn’t appear frightened so she leaned closer. “Hello, buddy.”
The cat offered a silent meow and jumped down.
“Willie is cute,” Naomi said, looking up in time to see the limousine drive away. “Hey. How am I going to get home?”
Chance joined her on the porch. “You’re staying, remember?” He swept her into his arms and kissed her neck, igniting tiny embers along her skin.
“Not forever. I have to get home to go to work tomorrow.”
Lifting her higher, he trailed his lips along her jawline. “I’ve got a barn full of cars. You can take any one you want.”
Naomi pushed on his shoulders. “Wait. A barnful? How many is a barnful?”
Releasing an exasperated sigh, he said, “I don’t know. Twenty or so?”
Laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “You have twenty cars and you can’t drive any of them?” She giggled so hard Chance dropped her to the floor.
“Funny for you,” he said, reaching a hand to the top of the frame around the front door. “In five months, I’ll be back in the driver’s seat.” Sliding his hand from side to side, he muttered, “Well, shit.”
Not a good sign. “What’s wrong?”
“The key. Millie didn’t put it back.”
Sobering, Naomi asked, “Who is Millie?”
Chance checked the windowsill where the cat had been. “The cleaning lady. She comes every other Sunday.”
Relief flooded through her. “Oh, good. Wait. Are you saying you don’t have a key to get in?”
“I never carry one. I just leave it above the door.” He started searching the floor, but the fans didn’t offer enough light to see much.
Naomi pulled her phone from her purse. “Here.” She switched on the built-in flashlight. “Try this.”
Taking the phone, he rose to his full height. “Does my phone have that?”
“Sure.”
“Cool.” Resuming the search, he checked several feet to the right and left of the door. “I don’t see anything.”
The lack of neighbors suddenly felt like a problem. “Are we stuck out here all night? Does Shelly have a key?”
He traveled past two rockers to stop at another window. “She does, but I’m not calling her out here tonight. Hold this.” Chance handed Naomi the phone. “This window gets off track pretty easy. The last time I got locked out, I figured out how to pop it to get inside.”
“Be careful. These don’t look very thick.”
“They aren’t,” he grunted. “I wanted an original cabin look, so I tracked these down. They came out of a cabin built in 1913.”
Just as he said the year, glass splintered and the entire pane caved in, the sound like an explosion ricocheting in the dark. Naomi jumped back and covered her eyes as Chance spewed profanity.
Stepping carefully over the shattered bits on the porch, she pointed the light toward Chance. “Are you okay?”
Head bowed, he mumbled, “I don’t think so.” When he lifted his face, tiny pieces of glass stuck in his hair reflected the light. His face looked white behind the dark stubble on his chin. “My hand hurts like hell.”
Naomi lowered the light and nearly passed out. Protruding from the center of Chance’s palm was an ugly triangle of blood-covered glass. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
He ground his teeth. “I just need to get it out.”
“No!” she screamed. “Don’t do that. I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.” Naomi had never been one to panic in a crisis, and by damn she wasn’t going to start now. Despite the roiling in her stomach, she kept her voice level. “You need to sit down while I figure out what to do. You sit and I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Chance did as she ordered, but when he settled in one of the rocking chairs, she spotted the blood stain already forming on his shirt. It was getting larger by the second.
“That’s way too much blood. Okay.” Keep calm, Naomi. Stay focused. Find a solution. “The keys. Where are the keys? I can drive you to the hospital.”
“You can’t go in that window. You’ll get hurt.”
“I don’t have a choice.” Shuffling back to the mess, she checked the entry point. No way could she fit through there, especially not with the large piece still sticking up from the bottom. “I need to break out the rest of the glass.” Chance looked woozy, which increased the roller coaster going on in her gut. Desperate, she scanned the area and found a gray bucket sitting upside down by a post. “This could work.”
With all her might, Naomi hurled the bucket through the window, taking out most of the remaining shards. If she was careful, she could get through without injury. At least she hoped so. The last thing they needed was both of them bleeding to death on this porch.
“Honey,” she said, lifting Chance’s face. “Where are the keys? Tell me where they are, baby, so I can get us on the road.”
“On a hook on the back wall.” He licked his lips. “Get the ones on the Titan key chain. That’s the truck. I know it’s closest to the barn door.”
She brushed the hair off his damp forehead. “Okay. I can do that.”
Naomi swung her leg over the sill, careful not to get too close to the sharp edges along the bottom. Her head slid through first and her body followed, but she rose too quickly and cut her ear. Ignoring the pain, she pulled her other leg in and navigated over the shattered glass. Willie leaped onto the chair closest to her and Naomi almost had a heart attack.
Reminding herself the cat was likely freaked out, she kept her voice low. “It’s okay, Willie. I just need some keys to get your daddy to the hospital.”
The puffy tail swished, but he didn’t leap to claw her eyes out, so she sped around him and switched on another lamp beside the couch. Glancing to the back wall, which was another fifteen feet away, she spotted the familiar football logo and sprinted to get it. Keys in hand, she nearly went back out through the window before remembering the door was a better option now.
Outside, she found Chance nearly slumped over in the chair. “Stay with me, baby.” Noticing the puddle of blood at his feet, she ran back inside for something to wrap around the wound. Finding a black hand towel tossed over the back of the couch, she snagged it and returned to her patient. “This might hurt, but we have to do something about the blood. I need to lift your hand.”
In typical male fashion, Chance argued, “I’m fine. Just pull out the glass and put a Band-Aid on it.”
A Band-Aid was not going work on this. “Come on, hon. I don’t want to hurt you. Lift it up just a little so I can wrap this towel around your hand.”
Chance did as she asked, but as soon as the towel touched his skin, another litany of four-letter words filled the air. Naomi would rather cut off her own arm than hurt him this much, but she didn’t know what else to do. They had to stem the bleeding as best they could.
When he yowled again, she gave up. “Okay, then. We’ll just drape the towel around it. We need to get you to the hospital now. Where’s the barn?”
“Around back,” he replied, voice barely a whisper as his eyes slid shut. “Follow the driveway.”
“All right. I’ll be right back.”
Before she made it two steps, Chance called her back. “Wait. You need to block the window.”
He could not be serious. “Chance, there’s no time for that.”
“I don’t want Willie to get out. There are things out here that he can’t fight off.” He leaned on the arm of the chair to keep himself from sliding to the floor. “There’s a f
rame leaning against the wall by the fireplace. Just put that against the window so he can’t get out.”
Knowing it would be quicker to do what he asked than to stand around arguing, Naomi darted back inside and located the large frame leaning right where Chance said it would be. She hurried to the window and fitted it against the opening without looking to see what was on the other side. Closing the door behind her on her way out, she returned to the rocker only to be blinded as the ceiling fan light glistened off the makeshift window.
“Chance, that’s a gold record.”
“I know.” He leaned forward and spit between his boots. “Hurry up and get the truck. I’ll be at the end of the porch when you get here.”
“I’ll come back and help you.”
He threw his head back and she noticed the tinge of green in his cheeks. “Naomi, please. Just go.”
She got the message. She also knew that she didn’t want to see what he was about to do any more than he wanted her to see it. Heart racing, she hurried down the porch as fast as her heels would allow and headed for the barn with only her cell phone’s flashlight to guide her.
“Please, Lord,” she said aloud. “Don’t let there be snakes out here.”
Chance had never felt pain like this before. Every twitch of a finger. Every bump in the road. Hell, even thinking about it made the pain worse.
“We’re almost there. Not much longer now.”
Naomi had been uttering these reassurances for several miles. Since she’d had no idea where they were, Chance had managed to get her to the main road, but talking was growing more difficult by the second. Breathing was all he could manage by the time they reached the end of his long driveway, so she’d pulled out her phone and used the GPS to find the nearest hospital.
“It looks like a couple more lights now. Hang in there with me.”
Hanging in there was getting harder, too. He imagined his head felt similar to a helium-filled balloon. When he closed his eyes, everything spun, increasing the nausea that had left a mess on his front porch. And his boots.
As they sped up Nolensville Road, Naomi spoke to her fellow drivers as if they could hear her.