The Hero's Redemption

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Did you not want a son?” he heard himself ask. “Or was it something about me?”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I wanted a son!” Quaver replaced by outrage.

  “I always thought you hated me. The way you’d look at me—” Cole shook his head. Why bother doing this? His father would never admit to his unequal treatment of his children, and what did it matter now?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joe said stubbornly.

  Yeah, they did have something in common.

  “Well, Dad, I guess I should thank you for the update on my good friend Chad.”

  “Dani says you’re doing really well. Working full-time, even taking some college classes.”

  “Too bad I lost ten years of my life.” He wished he could quit with the bitterness. “It never crossed your mind to believe me, did it? To believe in me?”

  “You were running with a rough crowd. Using drugs. It was hard to believe in you.”

  “I get that,” he made himself say, “but the worst thing I’d done was take a tire iron to a car fender. Big jump to murder.”

  “I’m sorry,” his father said again.

  “I appreciate you saying that. But if it’s forgiveness you want... I don’t know. I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Dad.”

  His hand shook, but he used his thumb to end the call.

  Leaning back in the recliner, Cole closed his eyes. He wanted to talk to Erin like he’d never wanted anything before. Face it, he thought—no matter what happened, little or big, he wanted to tell her. When he couldn’t see her, talk to her, that hollow inside him kept expanding, a sinkhole trying to swallow him.

  She cared about him. He knew she did. She might hurt him badly, down the line. But maybe she wouldn’t. Was he really so gutless that he’d keep letting fear hold him back?

  * * *

  THE FIRST ERIN heard from Cole was a phone call Tuesday evening.

  He sounded gruff. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I’ve had broken ribs before,” he said, doubting her for good reason.

  “They’re the worst,” she admitted, giving up with the “I’m fine” thing. “I can’t laugh or breathe deeply—and if I accidentally bump my body with the cast... Reaching high into a cupboard, nope. And the damn cast makes me clumsy. My brain sends these automatic signals and there I go, trying to use my left hand before I know it and whacking something.”

  “And it hurts.” He was quiet for a minute. “Collarbone will be really painful for at least a month, too.”

  “That’s what the doctor told me. Have you broken that, as well?”

  “Ribs were at football practice. Collarbone was in a fight.”

  Bad enough knowing he had scars, even if broken bones didn’t leave the same visible evidence.

  “I don’t want to bug you,” he said, his voice still gruff, “but I called to say if you need a ride, I’m available.”

  Her eyes stung, but she was determined not to let herself sound teary. “Thank you. I’ve got a rental, but I haven’t driven yet. I’m hoping to start back at the library later in the week.”

  “Call if you need me.”

  He was gone, saving her from saying, I do need you.

  Making it back to work that week turned out to be fantasy, not reality. She was too miserable. The pain pills made her groggy, but she hurt too much to function without them. Sleep happened in short increments, interrupted whenever she moved. The rental car sat in her driveway, although she had yet to go anywhere in it. Her insurance agent had told her she should receive a check next week, but she wasn’t up to car-shopping. Neighbors up and down the street brought her casseroles and baked goods, so at least she didn’t have to cook. In fact, she had to freeze a lot of the offerings. Michelle insisted on grocery shopping for her, bringing fresh produce, milk and eggs.

  Friday morning, she went online and applied for the job as girls’ volleyball coach at the high school. Her heart was racing by the time she finished. They’d probably already hired someone, but she surprised herself by hoping not.

  Exhausted after so little effort, she took a late-afternoon nap. She’d barely dragged herself up from it when the phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat or two when she saw Cole’s name.

  “Hi. You’ll be glad to know I haven’t gone anywhere.”

  He chuckled, that low, rusty sound she loved. “Good. I wondered if I could bring you dinner.”

  She sat down on the edge of her bed. “Is this still about you thinking you owe me?”

  “No.”

  She waited, but that was it. No.

  “Then—” her voice came out husky “—I’d love to see you for dinner. But you don’t have to bring anything, unless you already have it in hand. Half the neighbors have brought over meals, and several people from the library, too. Tell me what sounds good, and I probably have it.”

  Cole laughed again. “I’m not picky. Whatever you feel like having.”

  “Mystery dinner.”

  “See you in a few.” He was gone.

  She raced for the bathroom. Well, moved as fast as she could. This week, she’d hardly paid attention to what she looked like, but now she saw herself with dismay. Yellow and green remnants of a bruise lingered on the left side of her forehead. She had a pillow crease on her right cheek. She’d managed to wash her hair, thank goodness, and now she brushed it, but she couldn’t braid it or even manage a ponytail one-handed. Makeup... Why bother? She rarely had when he lived here, and he did see her about ten hours after the car accident. Her eyes must have been spinning like whirligigs.

  Sighing, she slipped her feet into sandals and went downstairs, wondering how quick his few minutes would be.

  * * *

  THE FLOWERS WERE probably overkill. Getting out of his truck, he seriously considered leaving them on the passenger seat so as not to embarrass himself. But he hadn’t gotten to the point where wasting money sat well with him, and anyway... He’d swear he could hear his mother telling him he had to bring a gift. The pain pills Erin should still be taking ruled out wine, and Cole was willing to bet Lottie had dessert covered. Muttering under his breath, he scooped up the bouquet and started for the front porch.

  He didn’t have a chance to ring the bell before the door opened. She must have heard the truck engine. Erin’s face lit up with a smile that froze him in place and stole his voice. He forgot how beautiful she was when he didn’t see her daily, and she looked a thousand times better than she had on Sunday at the hospital, even though tiredness left her eyes sunken and accented with purple crescents.

  Feeling like an idiot, he wordlessly held out the bouquet.

  “For me?”

  “Who else?”

  “They’re gorgeous.” She accepted them with her right hand. “I can’t remember the last time anyone gave me flowers. Well, the college did when my softball team won a regional title, but that’s not the same, is it? And I’m babbling.” She bent her head to breathe in the fragrance. He’d insisted on flowers that smelled good. “You must have gone to a florist.”

  First time in his life. “Can I come in?”

  “Oh! Of course!” She tripped as she backed up.

  Cole caught her with one hand. He liked that she felt as awkward as he did. Her cheeks were pink, too. From shyness?

  He followed her to the kitchen, noting the changes in the house on the way. The ceiling was a creamy white instead of brown-splotched and dingy. He couldn’t imagine how she’d reached the ceiling above the staircase. Damn it, he should’ve been here to do it for her. He could see her leaning out over space to roll on paint, the ladder slipping...

  Cole shook himself. She’d done the job and hadn’t injured herself—at least not then—so he should keep his mouth shut. But he thought abo
ut how much the house still needed, and how he’d like to be the one to do the work. Unpaid, this time.

  The microwave already hummed. “Do you mind slicing the French bread?” she asked, laying the bouquet carefully on the counter. “I need to find a vase.”

  The vases, apparently, were kept in a cupboard above the refrigerator. Erin started to drag a stepstool over. He leveled a look at her and reached up to open it.

  “Which one?”

  She craned her neck. “How about that yellow one?”

  Ceramic and gracefully shaped, it had to be an antique. When she filled it with water and arranged the mix of roses, sweet peas and something lacy in the vase, he smiled at the expression on her face. She liked them. Mom was right.

  Talking grew easier as they got dinner on the table and sat down to eat, probably because they’d done this so often before. He carried the hot casserole dish to the table instead of letting her do it one-handed.

  Encouraged by him, Erin grumbled about how completely miserable she felt. “Even my legs ache! My hip is sore. I feel like a hypochondriac. It’s not like I was injured below the waist.”

  “You hit that tree with a lot of force.” He didn’t tell her, but he’d driven over to see where the accident had happened. Seeing the gouges in the tree had shaken him. The highway on that stretch was raised a good five feet above the wooded ground on each side. Her Cherokee had literally flown. “Your whole body had to be traumatized. Now you’re probably walking a little differently than usual, too, which can strain muscles.”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  He wasn’t surprised when she told him she’d discovered what a restless sleeper she was. “I so want to lie on my left side,” she said with a sigh.

  “It’s only been about a week. Just a few more, and you’ll feel like yourself again.” He almost said, You should remember. You’ve been through this before, but stopped himself in time.

  Her thoughts went there, anyway, because she said, “I broke a lot of the same bones. Same side, too. It’s...weird.”

  Cole set down his fork and reached across the table. Her hand met his without any of the earlier awkwardness. “Did this trigger nightmares?”

  “A few.” She twisted her mouth. “I’d probably have more if I managed to stay asleep long enough.”

  Cole looked down at his plate. He’d been hungry when he called her, but nerves had unsettled his stomach and now—

  “I could help you get comfortable if I was sleeping with you.”

  Erin stared at him. God, talking had never been his best skill. When so much was on the line, talking about feelings flat-out terrified him.

  Even so, worried that he’d embarrassed her, he pushed himself to say, “I miss you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  He shoved his chair back and moved fast, scooping her up and sitting down with her on his lap. “Don’t cry,” he said hoarsely.

  Erin leaned her face against his chest, which muffled her wail. “I never used to cry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

  He was still scared, but found he was smiling, anyway. “You’ve been through a lot, sweetheart. You’ll get your balance back.”

  Not until she went completely still did he realize he’d used an endearment. Worse yet, one his father had used with his mother. Cole could only wait to see how Erin reacted. He kept rubbing her back.

  “I need to blow my nose,” she mumbled.

  Still smiling—don’t let them see your fear—he thrust a napkin in her hand. She mopped and blew firmly, crumpled the napkin and lifted her head. The brief storm had added puffiness to her eyes and blotches of color to her freckled skin.

  “You really mean that?” She searched his face. “You’re not just saying it?”

  Lump in his throat, Cole shook his head. “I didn’t want to go. You had to know that.”

  “I...suspected. But then I told myself—” She shook her head, too, as if there was no point in stating the obvious.

  This was up to him. Fear and shame and a bunch of other stuff tangled up as he prepared to reveal himself to her again. At least after this...he’d know. Once and for all.

  “Anything that happens, I want to tell you about it. I think about you all the time. Will you let me come back?” Home. That was what he’d meant to say. Instead, his speech had been about as fancy as his dented, aged pickup truck.

  She didn’t jump off his lap. So many emotions crossed her face and enriched the color of her eyes he couldn’t read any of it. Or maybe he was just too nervous.

  “Do you mean the apartment?” she asked carefully.

  Muscles tightening even more, he whispered, “With you.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “It didn’t change. I always knew—” Cole took a deep breath. “It killed me to leave. But...you’re a college professor. I’m an ex-con. I thought, sooner or later, you’d go back to, I don’t know, if not the same college, the same kind of place. Life,” he corrected himself. “If you didn’t want me to go with you...” He swallowed, unable to say, I might not survive that.

  “I’m such a mess. More than you are, and with less reason.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is, but...I’ve been in love with you almost from that first day. You were so stoic, you had such pride and dignity, you knew how to do everything.” A tiny smile came out of hiding. “You’re sexy, and you’re stubborn.”

  He had to close his eyes for a minute to gather himself. “You love me.”

  “Yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to his throat. “If you think I’d ever be embarrassed by you, you’re wrong. You’re smarter than most of the professors I’ve met and way more practical. None of them look like you, either. I really don’t want to think of the women you must have trailing you on the Everett campus.”

  A grin broke free. “I try to ignore my followers.”

  Erin snorted, but then she went quiet again. Finally, she sat up straight, meeting his eyes. “Did you... I mean, have there been other women?”

  “No one.” Honesty compelled him to admit, “I told myself I should find someone more at my level, but...I just couldn’t do it. You were always there. I would have compared them.”

  “With the crazy woman who kept trying to kill herself? Who screams every night, and sobs in your arms?”

  “Yeah.” His heart didn’t feel right. Or maybe it finally did. “With her.”

  “Oh, Cole,” she whispered.

  That did it. He had to kiss her, and she seemed just as eager to kiss him back. It took everything he had to hold on to enough sanity to know this was as far as it could go until a few of her bones knit themselves back together. But this was good—kisses that were tender, that asked questions and gave answers, hungry kisses, teasing kisses.

  Erin was laughing when they parted, even though her eyes shone with new tears. “You’ll really come home?”

  “I really will,” he said huskily, “as long as you know I want you forever. That I’ll go anywhere you do.”

  She laid her uninjured hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb over his lips. “Works the other way around, too. We may need to move if you want a four-year degree. Or more.”

  Erin loved him. She believed in him.

  “Damn, I wish we could go to bed,” he growled.

  She laughed at him. “We can. You did promise to make me so comfy I’d sleep through the night.”

  He kissed her again, hard, then murmured in her ear, “I can only think of one thing I’d rather do.”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story by

  Superromance author Janice Kay Johnson,

  you’ll also love her most recent books:

  HER AMISH PROTECTORS

&nbs
p; PLAIN REFUGE

  A MOTHER’S CLAIM

  and

  BECAUSE OF A GIRL

  All available at Harlequin.com.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS by Tara Taylor Quinn.

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  A Family for Christmas

  by Tara Taylor Quinn

  CHAPTER ONE

  Prospector, Nevada

  “DAMN.” TAKING HIS stinging toe with him, Dr. Simon Walsh carefully and deliberately lifted his right foot and took another step forward. Landed it successfully. Then picked up the left. Success. And the right. Stepping slowly. Adding roots camouflaged by dirt and other ground cover to his list of possible dangers.