by Alexa Davis
“So, what are you going to do?” Callie asked quietly, pain evident in her voice even as she pulled Slinky up into her lap.
“I’m going to find out if Steve really has a soul, or if he wants me to call him so he can gloat about his handiwork. Then, I’m going to have coffee with Libby and either give her hope, or tear her heart out and stomp on what little is left.” I lifted my beer in salute and drained it, and waved Callie back to her seat when she tried to get out from under Slinky.
“If you’re getting up, I wouldn’t mind a bottle of water,” George asked. His face was tight and strained around the eyes. I nodded and took his bottle from him and headed toward the fridge.
“How you doing, anyway? You were limping more than usual earlier.” He sighed and shrugged.
“I got a little carried away at work and hurt myself a little. This time, it’s more of an ‘old man’ thing, not really so much the claymore incident.”
“What he means to say is that he tried to carry a beam across a set of steel joists, slipped, and almost broke his ankle.”
“Sprained. I sprained my ankle. It was a ten-inch fall, for Christ’s sake.” He complained as I handed him his water. Callie shook her head and glared at him and I couldn’t help but smile. It slid from my face as a quick stab of envy shot through me, watching them together. George was my little brother. He had managed to run from his happiness for years, and here he was, living exactly the life he should be. Suddenly, it felt like I should have stayed home alone, going over the cases that I was ready to ignore, just to give Libby all my attention.
Callie seemed to feel the shift in my mood. She lifted Slinky onto the couch next to her and stood behind George, watching me.
“Who is she, Tucker?” She asked, rubbing her husband’s shoulders, and smiling wryly at me.
“Libby and Olivia are in a bad place. They need me and I’m not sure I can get them what they deserve,” I confessed. “In fact, I have the definite feeling that my best friend completely screwed over the people who loved him most in the world, and left me to scatter the pieces, instead of putting them back together.”
“It’s more than that, Tuck, I can tell. Don’t forget how long I’ve been a member of your family.” I felt the heat of embarrassment color my face and stared down at my hands.
“I went to Libby after Andrew died. They were already divorced, I just wanted to be there for her and Olivia both. What happened, I don’t regret, but I guess I don’t really understand either. Now, it’s… difficult to be around her, and she is afraid to even be alone in a room with me.”
“I doubt that she, or anyone, is afraid of you, Tuck. Just do what you can to be a good friend to her. Don’t get so hung up on your own feelings that you can’t help little Olly.” I managed a wry smile.
“I got to meet with her in the morning. I should go home and get some work done before I get to tell her that I drank the night away with my favorite brother and forgot about her problems. Clients never seem to appreciate hearing that.” George scoffed and Callie pretended to smack him again, but let him catch her hand and kiss her fingers. “Yeah, okay. I’m leaving now, before you decide to make out in your living room like a couple of teenagers.”
George started to fight his way to a standing position, to the dismay of his wife and the protective pit-bull at his side. I motioned for him to stay seated, and woke Kennedy up from her nap next to me on the sofa. Xavier was the perfect gentleman and walked Kennedy and I to the door, giving her a little extra nuzzle that raised my eyebrows and made Callie chuckle.
I was in the car, before I realized that I’d left my midnight snack and next day’s food behind. I hit a gas station for chips, chocolate, and caffeine before heading home to the solitude of the condo. I had postponed for about as long as I could stand, but it was going to be a long night if I was going take care of Libby—let alone my other cases. Loneliness would have to wait. There was work to be done.
Chapter Four
Libby
Five o’clock in the morning was a blessing, after the night I’d spent tossing and turning. After I’d had a long, hot shower and had spent twenty minutes of picking through my closet, Olivia joined me in the bedroom. She watched me change into yet another outfit, and shook her head.
“You look pretty in the blue dress, Mommy. You should wear that one.” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Why does it matter if I’m pretty?” She rolled her eyes at me. “Mom, I’m almost five years old. I know that you like to feel pretty when you talk to Uncle Tuck.” My eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he’s my favorite too. If you want, I can wear my pink dress, and I can come too.”
“You think Uncle Tuck is my favorite?”
“He’s your best friend. He came when Daddy went away, and he made you smile again. I like it better when you smile. It makes me happy.” Her little face screwed up as she tilted her head to one side. “I was wrong. Wear the pink and white one. It makes you look like you’re not a mom yet.” I laughed aloud at it, and hung the pale blue sundress back up in the closet.
“I like looking like I’m your mom, by the way,” I countered as I slipped the thin fabric of the dress over my head.
“Well, of course you do, Mom,” her exasperated little voice made me smile, and I was glad my face was still behind the gauzy fabric. “But don’t you think it would be nice for you to get a boyfriend? Teacher said that everybody is happier when they aren’t alone.” I sighed and made a mental eye roll of my own. Paul had been on the market for a boyfriend for a while, and my little pitcher with big ears didn’t miss a thing their favorite teacher said.
I sent her to her room to get dressed and made her favorite breakfast: fresh-cut fruit and toast with an egg on the side. She hadn’t gotten around to trying the egg yet, but every morning, she asked anyway, saying she was almost ready to try something new. It wasn’t until I was putting her Tinkerbell dishes on the table with her breakfast that I realized she had started asking for that scrambled egg after she’d seen me make eggs for Tucker the morning after he had spent the night.
She skipped into the room and climbed up onto the chair all by herself, even though I hovered nearby. She ate her breakfast, kicking her feet, and humming to the radio. When she got to the egg, she sniffed, then picked at it with her fork, pushing it around the small plate until the fluffy mass was a pile of crumbs.
“Not today, Punkin?” I asked, clearing the dishes from the table in exchange for a damp cloth to wipe her hands and face.
“I think I will tomorrow. I just wasn’t in the mood to try something new today.” She hopped down from her seat and got her shoes on without being reminded, and gathered her sweater and her backpack.
The drive to the preschool was too short, and before I knew it, I was headed to Jitters for my morning appointment and the biggest cup of coffee I could get my hands on. I felt sick for not being more honest with Tucker. I may not have been given the chance to finish college, but I knew almost as much as my husband had about law, from a decade of acting as his unpaid paralegal. As far as I could tell, the new will my ex-husband had created was solid as a brick wall. Tucker was my last chance to push through and protect Olivia from her father’s breakdown.
I ordered a latte for myself and an Americano, extra-hot, for Tucker, and sat outside, so he wouldn’t have to look for me. My hands shook and my toe tapped against the leg of the table as I tried to imagine the things he’d say. He would do his best to find a way through the mess that Andrew had made, not just for Olivia, but for Andrew himself. I’d seen his face when I told him what his friend, my husband, had done. He would make this right, or fight till he had nothing left to give, to let his friend have honor in death. What I would’ve given to have met Tucker first. Before Andrew had taken me down his rabbit-hole of keeping up appearances, putting his success and his desires before my needs—or Olivia’s. Tucker was helping me because he was the man he’d always believed Andrew to be.
A shadow fell across my shoulders, an
d I gripped the warm paper cup tighter in my hands to still my shaking fingers as Tucker came around me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I leaned up for a kiss on the cheek and he sat across from me with my folder in his hands.
“Was I late?” He asked, before taking a sip of his coffee and shooting me a grateful smile.
“No, Olivia was ready for school on time and I got here early.”
“I sure miss that kid. She’s brilliant.” I grinned and nodded.
“Definitely too smart for her own good. She asked after you. She wanted to know when you were going to come over again and tell her more funny stories.”
He splayed his fingers out over the Manila folder.
“I am happy to do that, anytime. Maybe on neutral ground some time?”
“Don’t be silly. You can come over, any time you want to. I need to stop being such an idiot, and now is a good time, don’t you think?”
“You’ve never been an idiot. I spent all night staring at a part of Andrew he wanted to keep hidden, part that I saw so rarely I convinced myself it wasn’t who he was. But you knew, didn’t you?”
I felt tears sting my eyelids and sniffed, studying my coffee cup to avoid his eyes.
“I wish he was the man he wanted people to think he was,” I said, and dabbed my eyes with my napkin to draw the shameful tears out the corners and away from the makeup I’d applied in a fit of optimism and vanity.
“Did you know he had cancer?” I glanced up at him wide-eyed.
“How did you find out? He didn’t tell me until after the divorce, and swore me to secrecy.”
“He told his attorney. Why did you tell people it was his heart? Why not just tell the truth?”
“His heart did give out. Congenital disorder plus thyroid cancer, equals sixes as to which would kill him first—the cancer, or the treatment.” I paused, unsure if he’d understand. “I feel bad for his widow, sometimes. Not bad enough to give her Olivia’s inheritance, but… I don’t hate her.”
“Andrew’s best quality seemed to be his ability to surround himself with people who were better than him.” I glanced up at his words, and the look on his face made a hot, crimson flush creep up my neck. “I talked to Steve this morning. He reached out when he found out I was looking at your case.” My tongue flicked out over dry lips, but my mouth was a desert and there was no relief from the dread that overtook me at his expression.
“He suggested that I use your husband’s cancer as grounds for dismissing the will. Which, obviously, is exactly the right course, and what I would’ve suggested yesterday, had you just told me.” I floundered for a moment. I couldn’t explain why I hadn’t told him. Part of me had assumed that his best friend knew already, but mostly, Andrew had just trained me to be obedient to him.
“I’m sorry, Tucker. He made me promise never to tell anyone, and I guess I just never thought to break it.” The look on his face told me he was guessing at the parts I wasn’t sharing, but he left it alone, and I was grateful for it. He rubbed his jaw and watched me across the table, and my stomach tightened as I remembered how good it had felt to have his eyes on me in the dim firelight, as his hands moving with them, all over my body. I felt swollen with need, and with loneliness for him, and his eyes mirrored my thoughts back to me until I was afraid he could see inside my head. I dropped my gaze to the table and gathered myself back together before looking up at him again. He had opened the file and was looking over it.
“Libby, I think we have a shot at getting Olivia an inheritance. But it’s a shot, not a guarantee. If we lose, you’re out the inheritance and the cost of an attorney, since you so stubbornly refused my help privately.” He glared at me and I laughed.
“What do you want me to say, Tucker? I should have let you help me as a friend. I panicked, thinking you would see me as a leech, only remembering you exist when I need something. That is so not the case. I hope you know that.”
“Apology accepted, but you should work on that, you aren’t very good at them.” I threw a wadded-up napkin at him, and he laughed when it fell harmlessly on the table in front of him. “We’re going to do this, and I feel positive about our chances. But no matter what, you will be okay. I won’t let you or Olivia down, okay?” He reached out a hand, and I placed mine in it. His fingers were warm and strong, and as callused as I remembered. “I have missed being your friend, Libby. Right now, being the friend I promised is my priority. To you… and to Olivia.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles.
“So, this means you’ll come to dinner?” He laughed and nodded. “Thank you, Tucker. I feel so stupid for not just talking to you about Andrew when he was still alive. I thought it would be disloyal, but now, I wonder if you could’ve spared him some of his mental anguish, or helped me shelter Olivia from the worst of it.”
“You did the best you could, Lib. No sense second guessing yourself now. He leaned farther forward and pulled my hand to his mouth, dragging his soft, full lips over the tender spot his thumb had warmed in a ghost of a kiss.
“I’m not going anywhere, Libby. I did what you asked and left you alone—and you’ll have to admit, it didn’t turn out so great. This time, we’re going to do it my way.” I bristled and he gripped my hand tighter, forcing me to stay close. “When you’re ready, you will come to me. Not because I made you, but because I’ve earned your trust.” He gave me back my hand and I folded them together in my lap.
“I trust that you love Olivia. I trust that you will do everything in your power to help us get back our home and what is rightfully ours.” I shook my head and sighed. “Don’t ask me to trust that you know what’s best for me. I believed that once, and I have well and truly learned my lesson.”
Tucker flipped through the pages in the folder, scanning each one quickly before moving to the next. His face was set in determination, and a dark cloud hovered over his features. It was rare to see him so brooding and angry, and the need in my stomach intensified, even as I cursed myself silently for bringing him back into my life. It couldn’t be healthy to watch his anger and want him even more. Not when I knew how painful and terrifying a man’s anger could be. I looked up and he was watching me again, the expression on his rugged features unreadable. No, I wouldn’t be sating my need for his body on top of mine. He was too good a man to risk ruining him with my flaws and failings.
I felt the pressure of fresh tears and blinked rapidly, willing them back and praying he hadn’t noticed. Instead, the wrought iron table shifted as he stood and came to me, putting his arms around me.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Libby,” he whispered as he kissed my temple. “I never could. No matter what else you think, or choose. You know I will never cause you harm.” I didn’t push away, just sat stiff in his arms. How could I relax, when the man knew my thoughts as well as I did? If he had a weapon, that would be it—and if there was one thing I knew, it was that men were canny with their weapons.
Chapter Five
Tucker
I thought about Libby all week at the expense of my work and my appetite and—I was pretty certain—my sanity. When we had gone our separate ways after coffee, I was still her attorney, we were still going to fight Andrew’s last-minute will, and despite looking like just asking was a task equal to swallowing worms, Libby had invited me for dinner on Friday. I spent the rest of the day pulling together statements about Andrew’s secret diagnosis, much of it with the help of Steve Piper, my unexpected ally.
On one hand, his desire to help little Oliva made sense. He was a family man, and devoted to his own wife and five kids. Any man who was willing to start his work day before his coworkers were awake, just to ensure his evenings were free for soccer games, barbeques, and playing at the park, had to have a soft spot for a little girl who had lost both her father and her home in one fell swoop.
He asked me to keep his assistance to myself, and warned me that Carl, my once-nemesis and ever the thorn in my side, had decided to take care of Andrew’s young widow himself. I scoffed and heard hi
m laugh on the other end. It was no secret to anyone that Carl was in the market for a new mistress. Andrew’s young, surgically altered widow was a perfect match for the paunchy, balding, functioning alcoholic’s appetite.
A simple contestation of a will was turning into some sort of cloak-and-dagger bullshit, and I couldn’t tell if I was more irritated with the secrecy and John Grisham-quality it all, or with the fact that I was getting no small satisfaction from opposing Carl in the courtroom—my field of battle for once—rather than having him launching attacks from the shadows.
Libby’s suit was filed, and all we had to do was sit and wait for the court to give us a hearing date and name the judge. Libby sounded so calm when I called her to tell her, but I was on pins and needles, more than I had been in a long time. I knew Carl would play dirty, try to emphasize marital problems, hurt her reputation. For the first time in my years of practicing law, I wondered if I had the self-control to not fly across the room and put him in the hospital when he inevitably crossed the line and said something he couldn’t come back from.
I mentioned it to Libby in one of our phone calls, so she could start preparing herself for the personal line of questioning we’d be practicing once the hearing approached, and she reminded me not to borrow trouble. I smiled to myself. I remembered the day I had said that to her, the first time Andrew hadn’t made it home when he said he would, and wasn’t answering his phone. I had never asked what had become of him that night, or when he’d finally made it home. Learning what I did since his divorce, I had my suspicions.
My gut churned, thinking of all that Andrew had put her through. I hadn’t seen it, seeing him through the lens of the Hargrave sense of honor. Libby deserved better. I glanced around my office and shut the case file in front of me. I reached for my phone to ask her if she minded me coming by early, and it rang in my hands. I was so strung out I dropped it, watching in horror as her name lit the screen before the phone skittered out of sight under the heavy desk.