Saving Sara (Redemption #1)

by Nicola Marsh

  “Stop talking shit.” Jake leapt to his feet and started pacing, stunned she’d suggest such a thing when she loved her son more than anything. “Olly is your life. You adore that kid. You’ve slaved for years to provide him with everything.”

  Shocked his sister would even consider giving him custody of her precious son, he stopped in front of her and glowered. “So what the hell is really going on?”

  She took her time answering, knuckling the tears from her eyes. “I’m scared. Freaking terrified.” She hiccupped and raised bloodshot eyes to his. “What if I end up like him?”

  Jake didn’t have to ask who the “him” was. Their father. The bastard. Ruining lives even from beyond the grave.

  “With the alcohol, you mean?”

  Rose shook her head. “I only drink to forget. I can control it if I want to.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Because I have to forget . . . I need to forget.” She grimaced, her hand shaky as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It still makes me mad. Every time I think of what he put me through, the fury sweeps over me and the only way to calm it is by drinking.”

  “There are other ways—”

  “Don’t lecture me, Jake. Not now.” She plucked at the edge of the bedspread. “When I get that angry, that’s the worst time of all, because I’m terrified I’ll lash out at Olly . . . like he did with us.”

  “Hell, Rose, don’t give him so much power. We both did enough of that already when the old bastard was alive.”

  His gut roiled at the memory of what they’d endured as kids. “You and I are nothing like him. Nothing. You love Olly. You’d do anything for him, including holing away here to get yourself together. The old man never loved us. Never treated us as anything other than nuisances to be tolerated or abused. And we put up with it because we had to. But not anymore.”

  He took hold of her hands. “It took me years to get over our childhood. I still get the occasional nightmare. But I made a choice a while back, not to waste any more time lamenting what happened back then. That bastard took enough of my life. I won’t give him the satisfaction of stealing any more.”

  Rose stared at him, wide-eyed and wary. “Do you ever wish we’d done things differently? Maybe run away or fought back?”

  “We were kids. We did the best we could.”

  A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I never thanked you for protecting me. Because I know you did. You took the brunt of his brutality—”

  “Stop. You don’t need to thank me. I did what I had to do, just like you do with Olly.” He squeezed her hands. “Seriously, Sis, you’re a great mom. You should be proud of that amazing kid you’ve raised all on your own.” He eyeballed her. “You. Are. Nothing. Like. Him. Always remember that.”

  After what seemed like an eternity, Rose nodded. “Thanks. I’ve never told anyone else all that stuff, about me being terrified of ending up like Dad. Only you could truly understand and you haven’t judged me. You’ve made me see things in a different way.”

  “I’m always here for you, Rosey-Posey, always. And I don’t ever want to hear you talk crazy about giving up custody of Olly to me, got it?” He hugged her tight, blinking to dispel the moisture stinging his eyes. “You’re never alone.”

  “Aunt Cilla said that too.” She pulled back. “I really want to concentrate on the therapy side of things here for a while, get my head straight, then I think I will come to Redemption.”

  “That’s great. In that case, I’d better stick around town a while longer.”

  Her tremulous smile lightened his heart. “Like you need an excuse. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with this wonder woman Sara.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  Rose had met the occasional casual girlfriend he’d taken to functions, but no one who’d meant as much to him as Sara.

  “Take care of Olly for me, okay?”

  “Always.”

  This time, their hug was more affectionate than desperate.

  “Call me if you need me,” he said, pausing at the door. “Any time. Day or night. I’ll be here.”

  She blew him a kiss. “Love you, Jakey. You’re the best.”

  “I know.” He grinned, relieved when she grinned back. “Talk to you soon.”

  His grin faded as the door closed behind him. He’d kept his fury in check in front of Rose, but the residual anger against his father and the long-reaching consequences of his cruelty made him want to thump something.

  But he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t practice what he preached, and on the drive back to Redemption, he let the anger go and focused on something more positive.

  Getting back to Sara.

  36.

  A week after the fair, Cilla was no closer to peace.

  She still felt edgy and annoyed and off-kilter.

  She knew why, too. Bryce was ignoring her, just like he’d said, leaving the ball in her proverbial court. But her vow of “He’d be waiting a long time” for her to contact him was wearing thin.

  She’d seen him several times at the hospital, when she’d popped in to see Sergio and finalize the funds raised with his parents. She’d seen him grabbing a coffee at the diner. She’d even seen him jogging late at night when she’d been doing volunteer dinners for the seniors’ center.

  Each and every time, she’d become breathless and wished a pox on him. But he looked better than ever and wouldn’t do much beyond a brief nod to acknowledge her existence.

  The man could out-stubborn a goat. Then again, what had she expected? For him to continually chase her only to be rebuffed? She’d got exactly what she’d wanted: for him to keep his distance. She should be ecstatic. But the last seven days had been tough, seeing Jake and Sara so happy. She was thrilled for them, but when was the last time she’d been really, truly happy?

  Probably when she’d given birth to Tam, which was . . . what? Forty-two years ago? Damn, she was a sad case. Maybe she should go out with James after all? The mere thought made her shudder and she picked up the pace, needing to get home and start dinner. Dinner for one, considering Jake and Olly were eating at Sara’s tonight. She’d begged off their invitation, citing fatigue after a long day at the hospital and a little much needed “me time,” when the truth was she couldn’t face another dinner feeling like a third wheel. At least, not at the moment.

  If she could hold out until Bryce left, she’d be okay. Back to her staid life, just the way she liked it. So why did the thought leave her cold?

  As she exited the back door of the hospital and headed for the car park, she spied a lone figure in the grotto, a small circular space surrounded by hedges with a park bench in the middle. It had been built originally as a peaceful place for people to wait while their family or friends had surgery, but it had become redundant over the years after the new cafeteria had been built.

  As she neared, she saw Bryce sitting on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, shoulders slumped, like he was bearing an invisible weight.

  She stopped, startled by her first instinct—to go to him and hold him. To comfort him. To ease whatever burden made him look so vulnerable.

  Before she could second-guess her decision, she entered the grotto. He didn’t look up until she sat next to him, his surprise quickly masked by a carefully neutral expression.

  When he didn’t speak, she said, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” His short, clipped, monosyllabic response indicated he was far from it.

  “Usual post-rounds tiredness?”

  He straightened and shrugged. “Something like that.”

  An awkward silence stretched between them and Cilla wished she’d never approached him. Small talk had never been her forte. And she couldn’t broach any subject remotely connected to the two of them.

  Eventually, he half-turned to face her. “What are you doing here when you’re usually doing your best to avoid me?”

  She settled for honesty. “You looked like you could
use a friend.”

  “Is that what we are now? Friends?” He made it sound like they were sworn enemies. “Because I sure as hell don’t treat my friends the way you’ve treated me.”

  To her mortification, tears stung her eyes. “It’s complicated. You know that.”

  “Doesn’t have to be.”

  Thankfully, he turned away to continue staring at the jasmine bush, giving her time to compose herself. Time she needed as she dashed her hand across her eyes.

  “I know why you’re pushing me away,” he said, continuing his intense study of the bush. “You’re wracked by guilt.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me.” A sliver of anger pierced her sadness. “And you never will.”

  “I called Tamsin.”

  She jumped. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He stood and she leapt to her feet so he wouldn’t tower over her. “I was sick of all the BS and I wanted to get an insight into the woman I care about, so I tracked her down and called her.”

  “How dare you?” Cilla puffed up in outrage, wanting to slug something, preferably him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m the man who’s been in love with you for twenty-five goddamn years!” he roared, his gaze tortured as he stepped away. “Don’t you get it, Cilla? I’m not bullshitting. I’m not an abusive prick. I’m not Vernon!”

  Stunned by his outburst, she glared at him. “You don’t know the first thing about Vernon—”

  “Actually, I do. Tamsin told me. All of it. And I’d hazard a guess that when she went away to college, things only got worse.” He ran a hand over his face. It did little to erase the devastation twisting his features, and he hadn’t even lived through it. “Not all men are like that bastard. And feeling guilty because you stuck out the marriage for Tamsin’s sake yet she left anyway isn’t helping. Tamsin loves you but every time she’s around you she feels the weight of the past stifling her and you look so sad and remind her of everything that went wrong back then—”

  “Shut up.” She jabbed him hard in the chest. “Just shut the hell up!”

  Bryce bloody Madden was presuming to tell her about her daughter? Worse, why the hell had Tam told him all that crap?

  Cilla shook with rage as Bryce stared at her with pity.

  That was the final straw.

  “We’re going to have this out, once and for all.” She grabbed his shirtsleeve and all but dragged him out of the grotto. “We’ll talk at your place.”

  Bryce shrugged off her grip but he followed her along the path bordering the back of the hospital that led toward his house. They didn’t speak, which was good, because Cilla couldn’t have forced a single word past the lump of anger lodged in her throat.

  He’d called Tam for insight into her life. What gave him the right? As for Tam, Cilla had never felt so betrayed. Tam had never said any of that stuff to her. Her own mother!

  When they reached Bryce’s cottage, he opened the door and she pushed past him, stomping into the darkened living room. She’d been so gung-ho to give him a piece of her mind in private that she hadn’t realized the effect being back here would have.

  The last time she’d been here, he’d cooked her dinner, plied her with charm and banter, and then made her body sing with a mere kiss. The memory made her hands shake and she planted them on her hips, ready to blast him.

  But when he switched on the lone lamp in the room, some of Cilla’s fury fizzled. He looked like she’d kicked him where it hurt the most.

  “You want to tell me I’m an asshole for delving into your private life? Go ahead. You want to berate me for caring? Have at it.” He held his hands out to her, like he had nothing to hide up his sleeves. “But know this, Cilla. I’m one of the good guys. I’m not spinning you a line. Or jerking you around. Or playing some lame game while I’m in town. I’m so damn mad at you for doubting me and for pushing me away when I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen years old and that hasn’t waned—”

  Cilla lost her mind and kissed him. Initially to shut him up. But as his arms slid around her waist and hauled her close, she kissed him for another reason entirely.

  Because he made her feel good. He made her feel alive. He made her forget.

  And that’s what Cilla wanted to do tonight. Forget.

  Forget every rational reason why she shouldn’t do this.

  Forget her fears and self-esteem issues.

  Forget her past.

  And just live.

  She didn’t allow herself to doubt as Bryce undid her skirt, ripped off her panties and buried his tongue in her.

  She didn’t stop him from pleasuring her until she was gasping for air and her knees had buckled.

  She didn’t analyze or rationalize when he hoisted her up against the wall, buried himself deep and thrust repeatedly until he yelled her name and she came apart.

  She didn’t do any of those things because from the first moment Bryce had touched her, it felt right. And what they’d just shared had been magnificent. Desperate and wanton and passionate. The way two people who cared about each other should be.

  “You okay?” His gentle kiss brushed her lips. “I didn’t mean it to be like that . . . I mean, I’d dreamed about it but not like that and—”

  “You talk too much.”

  She kissed him to shut him up again.

  Her excuse and she was sticking to it.

  37.

  Sara had spent the last week existing in some weird dreamlike state, the same odd floaty feeling she’d had when Delivery Boy had asked her out all those years ago.

  She had the same tummy tumbles and heart pitter-patters, the same goofy grins and vivid daydreams.

  But this time, the object of her fantasies liked her back and it was a heady feeling.

  Jake was incredible. Attentive and caring, sweet and funny. And the kind of unselfish lover who made her feel like a goddess.

  They’d spent a lot of time together, doing fun stuff with Olly during the days, then naughty stuff beneath the covers at night. It had been an amazing week, culminating in dinner at her place tonight where Olly had helped her cook fajitas and they’d eaten cross-legged on her living room floor.

  But something was making her uneasy and she couldn’t figure out what it was. She’d initially attributed it to being happy for the first time since Lucy’s death, so maybe the niggly feeling was guilt. She’d pondered it at length, had analyzed it from every angle, but what she had with Jake was too good to make her feel guilty.

  Her musings had taken a different route then, and she’d wondered if spending so much time with Olly was making her uneasy. But she’d dismissed that as nonsense because she’d got past her funk where kids were concerned.

  So what the heck was making her this edgy?

  Olly ran into the room and skidded to a stop in front of her. “Uncle Jake has gone home for a minute to get my flavored milk. He’ll be back soon.”

  “In that case, why don’t you sit here and we’ll chat.” She patted the floor next to her. “Or maybe we can tell stories.”

  “Cool.” Olly flopped onto the floor and rested his back against the sofa. “My mom tells good stories but she’s still in that hospital place getting better.”

  Sara had no idea how much Olly knew about Rose. Jake had told her plenty but she didn’t want to make the mistake of divulging too much, so she gave a noncommittal murmur.

  “I really like hanging out with you and Uncle Jake.” Olly glanced up at her, his expression serious. “If my mom doesn’t come home, can I live with you and Uncle Jake and you be my mom?”

  Sara froze. Not that Olly’s scenario would ever come to fruition, but the moment his question had penetrated her loved-up fog, she knew what had been nagging at the edge of her consciousness.

  In getting too close to Jake, she’d opened herself up to the possibility of commitment. And commitment ultimately led to complications she couldn’t contemplate, like living together and children.

  Wh
en she didn’t answer, Olly looked crestfallen. “It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

  “Sweetie, anyone would love to have you live with them but your mom will be home before you know it.”

  A spark of hope lit his eyes. “You think?”

  “I know.” She slid an arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight. “She loves you very much and I bet she’s counting down the days ’til you’re with her again.”

  “I miss her a lot.” He leaned into her, in that snuggly way that only kids could do.

  It broke her heart that she’d never have the chance to do this with Lucy again, but for now, she relished the feel of a warm little body tucked into hers.

  “Will you and Uncle Jake have kids? Because I’d sure like someone to play with.”

  An image of a tousled haired, blue-eyed boy sprang to mind, a boy the carbon copy of his father, and it steadied her resolve like nothing else.

  She couldn’t have Jake’s or any other man’s baby.

  “You’ve got plenty of friends in town,” she said, deflecting his initial question and wishing Jake would hurry up. “Shall we get the ice cream ready while we’re waiting for your uncle?”

  “Yeah.” Olly leapt to his feet. “Can I have chocolate sprinkles on mine?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Rattled by Olly’s innocent questions and the deep-seated yearning he’d stirred up with his cuddle, Sara needed some time to compose herself. “Would you like to watch cartoons while I get the ice cream ready?”

  “Yeah, that’d be cool.” Olly sat cross-legged on the floor and waited for her to turn on the TV.

  With his elbows propped on his knees, chin resting in his hands, he looked adorable and she wanted to scoop him up and snuggle him tight.

  Sadness clogged her throat and she swallowed before turning her back on him and marching into the kitchen.

  This is what came of opening herself up to the possibility of attachment. If a simple embrace brought on tears and this much emotion, she was already way too attached to Olly. To his uncle, too, but she wouldn’t think about that now. Blubbering over the ice cream would be uncool.