Wishes at First Light

by Joanne Rock

  “Maybe you didn’t have enough time with him.” She realized his situation with Pete was far different from hers with Jeremy Covington. “Besides, your relationship is a lot more complex. It stands to reason you’d have a great deal to sort through. I just want the chance to tell that bastard what I think of him.”

  “I don’t think I can ever forgive him,” Clay confided, a coldness in his voice that alerted her to the seriousness of the rift between him and his father—a rift that had only deepened since she’d known him a decade ago.

  Shifting toward him on the bed, she pressed her hands to his bare chest. Awareness of him was automatic. Compelling. But right now it was more important to set those thoughts aside and focus on a need he might not even realize he had—a need to make some kind of peace with his past and with his father before the man died.

  “Don’t think of it as forgiving him for his sake. It’s for your own.” She bit her lip. “At least—that’s what the counselors all seem to suggest. I’ve sat in enough psych classes to know that’s not necessarily an easy thing to do.”

  “My brother will never have the chance to forgive that old man,” he reminded her bitterly. “It feels disloyal to his memory to just pretend it never happened.”

  She drew the blanket closer, his words chilling her to her soul. “Have you ever asked Lorelei Hasting about it?” She knew how much Clay respected his foster mom.

  “Lorelei?” He shook his head. “Hell, no. I try not to bring the drama of all that mess to her door. She’s worked too hard to create a peaceful environment for her kids.”

  The admiring way he spoke about her told Gabriella that she’d been right to suggest they speak. With the reunion coming up, maybe there’d be a chance for Lorelei to help Clay one last time.

  Eager to recapture some kind of closeness, she lay beside him again and tucked her head against his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to meeting her Saturday. Sam invited me, but maybe you and I could go together?”

  “I’d like that. But keep in mind people are going to start talking if we’re spending so much time in one another’s company. Or have you forgotten what it’s like in a small town?” Clay relaxed a little and she wondered why he cared if people talked.

  “I remember. But this week is going to be tough enough without robbing me of the best part.” She still had to face the ghosts of her childhood home. Confront her attacker.

  Perhaps most important, find a way to regain Mia’s trust.

  Yet right now, with Clay beside her, she thought she could find a way to simply enjoy the moment.

  No doubt she was quickly developing feelings for him. And she trusted him. But she was still finding her own way, too. So she would take things one day at a time, hope for the best—and absolutely make the most of every moment.

  “I’m not giving up the best orgasms I’ve ever had just to quiet small-town gossips.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A RUSTLING SOUND in the kitchen awoke Gabriella early. She checked the nightstand clock and realized it was almost dawn and she’d slept straight through the night. Unusual for her with her dreams so often haunted by nightmares. Maybe it was because Clay slept beside her. For years he’d played a role in the most frightening of her dreams, the ones that left her drenched in sweat and tangled in her blankets. Now his strong thigh grazed hers beneath the sheets, his palm curved possessively along her hip.

  The rustling in the kitchen reminded her what had awoken her in the first place.

  Mia.

  Sliding out of the bed, Gabriella reached for the bag of clothes that Clay had retrieved from her motel room. Digging to the bottom, she slid on a pair of drawstring flannel pajama bottoms and an old tee with a big cardigan sweater. She tugged socks on one at a time, hopping along the cold floor. Then she walked quietly to the bedroom door and slipped out into the living area, closing the passage behind her.

  She was nervous, she realized, to face Mia. The girl had come to mean so much to her. But Gabriella was used to offering advice in emails or via phone. In person...she had no experience. And she regretted letting Mia down so badly.

  Taking a deep breath, she drew closer.

  In the kitchen Mia wore an outfit she’d picked up at Last Chance Vintage, clothes Gabriella had glimpsed in the shopping bag the girl had brought into the restaurant the day before. She’d paired a sea-washed pink button-down men’s dress shirt over dark denim leggings with tall black boots. With her hair swept in a high ponytail and hoop earrings, she looked cute and youthful, her generous curves downplayed without having to resort to a shapeless tent.

  Her earbuds dangling around her neck, Mia pulled a cereal bowl from an upper cabinet and set it softly on the granite counter. Gabby decided to forget about the day before for now and just focus on getting through this one.

  “Morning,” Gabriella greeted her, unsure of her welcome. “You look great.”

  “Erin chose it.” Mia didn’t smile, but she also didn’t frown, scowl or sigh. All of which felt like a step forward. “She’s really smart about clothes.”

  Clothes. Universal teenage language. A bridge to understanding where their head was at—for good or bad. Gabriella would walk that bridge and more. Whatever it took to reestablish the bond with this troubled girl who deserved so much better than life had given her.

  “I thought the same thing when I saw her at the salon party the other night. Back in high school, she always dressed in overalls and spent weekends working at construction sites with her older brother so this turn of events for her career is a fun surprise.” The Finley family had always been so independent, never seeming like they suffered from the need to fit in.

  “Well, I’m glad to know there’s still hope for me that I can turn out okay.” Mia poured corn flakes into her bowl and splashed on some milk before she dug into her breakfast, eating standing up. “I mean, thank you, God, we don’t have to stay the same people we are in high school.” She set her phone on the counter beside her bowl and scrolled through whatever was on the screen.

  Gabriella was so grateful for an end to yesterday’s standoff and silence that she didn’t want to risk saying anything to upset the new dialogue with Mia. Then again, there was already too much that had gone unsaid.

  “I’m nothing like I was in high school.” She’d been so sheltered that her father’s arrest had seemed like the end of the world. And maybe, seeing how fragile her mother had been—breaking down completely after he’d gone to jail—had made Gabriella afraid she was emotionally weak like that, too. “I’ve since found strength I never would have thought possible back then.”

  She’d been so quick to decide her life wasn’t worth living when she’d only just barely started the journey. With her father out of her life and her mother rapidly withdrawing, Gabriella had felt so abandoned and alone. She would not allow that to happen to Mia. She needed to make sure the teen knew people cared about her.

  “Or else you found it because you got through it.” Mia didn’t even look up as she spoke. Taking another bite of cereal, she chewed and swallowed. “It’s not like you were a dweeb in high school and suddenly you’re kick-ass, right? You got kick-ass by surviving the dweeb days. You find your strength because you’re tested. A rite of passage, according to Shrader.”

  “Who’s Shrader?” Gabriella moved around Mia to fill the coffeepot, wondering if she was dating someone new. But she had to admit the girl had her wits about her in the morning. She definitely had made a good point.

  “My social studies teacher. He’s sorta scary mean, but also scary smart.” She finished the cereal, put the bowl in the sink and rinsed it. “I’m going to school with Davis. He should be here any minute.”

  As fast as that, the teen was trying to close off entry to the dialogue bridge.

  Mia hurried out of the kitchen and into the living area, picking up he
r worn black backpack off the coffee table and stuffing in two giant textbooks that were already leaving holes in the thin fabric.

  “Davis? The boy from the truck incident?” Gabriella lingered in the kitchen, putting away the milk and cereal and hoping that by appearing nonchalant, she could keep up some communication with the teen.

  “Surprise, right?” Mia wrestled with the books and then jammed in a pair of shorts and a tee. “He texted last night and offered to drive me to school.”

  “And you trust him?” Gabriella’s stomach knotted. This girl was now in her care if only for a few days. She was only sixteen years old. Should she be riding in cars with teenage boys?

  Gabriella was seized with the need to give the boy a driving test and maybe do a background check. She wondered what Clay would say about this.

  “Some guys would have lost their minds over what happened the other night. Like, really.” The look in Mia’s eyes—as if she she’d seen too much cruelty and hardship—broke Gabriella’s heart. “He could have fought back after what I did. But instead he let me drive his truck home and he called the next day to apologize. Seriously. Apologize. People don’t do that much.” She shrugged and zipped up the backpack as a light strobed through the living room—headlights outside. “There he is.”

  She was already halfway across the living room when Gabriella realized the girl was headed out the door whether or not she had Gabby’s permission.

  “You have your phone?” she asked, wrapping her sweater tighter as Mia opened the door. “Where’s your coat?”

  “I have my phone and I haven’t gotten a coat yet this year.” She picked up her pace as she hit the threshold. “I’ll take a late bus home.”

  Squinting into the headlights of the pickup in the driveway, Gabriella made a note of the license plate. Because that was normal and that was what parents of teens did when their kids left the house? Or because Gabriella had been assaulted herself and hadn’t ever fully recovered?

  She didn’t know. Stepping out into the rosy wash of first light, she took deep breaths. Tried to tell herself that Mia was right and she was strong because of what she’d faced. Part of her thought Mia deserved that same chance—to stretch her wings and find her own strength, too. But it was long moments after the truck turned out onto the county road in front of the house before Gabriella pulled the door closed, sagged back against the panel and took a breath. She stared at the bedroom door and debated how to start this day. She hadn’t even given a thought to Pete, and Clay’s father had been in bad shape last night. She should call the hospital and check on him.

  On the plus side, she felt slightly encouraged about getting through the trial. First of all, she had the promise of Clayton sitting beside her. And no matter how he felt this morning about the events that had transpired between them last night, she knew without question that he would be there for her in that courtroom. Plus, Gabriella wanted to be home from court as early as possible to be here when Mia returned, and somehow that already helped put Covington a little more firmly in the past. So she’d be leaving the trial early again today. Not only did she want to be here for Mia. She also needed to stop at Last Chance Vintage on the way to ask Erin’s help in choosing a winter coat and a teen-appropriate new backpack.

  Gabriella might not have all the answers when it came to dating and boys, but she could make sure Mia Benson was warm enough when she went to school.

  * * *

  “HAVING SECOND THOUGHTS?”

  Mia had to ask Davis the question since he’d parked his truck in the Crestwood High School parking lot and pocketed the key, but made no move to open the door.

  The first bell didn’t ring for five more minutes but still...he just sort of stared at the student entrance where kids juggled coffees or foam cups of slushie drinks from the convenience store up the street.

  “Hell, no.” He glanced her way. “I am exactly where I wanna be. With you.”

  He really was cute with his too-long legs and freckles. One day he’d grow into that body, she’d bet, and be sort of studly with all that tallness. And even now she liked how neat and well-groomed he was with the crew cut and whatever he wore that smelled kinda good. She lived poor enough herself, so she wasn’t attracted to the grunge thing. Her life was kind of grunge except for the nice secondhand things that Erin Finley had traded with her for her work efforts.

  Plus, something about how Davis looked this morning made her think he’d made an effort. His shirt was ironed and layered over a T-shirt with the name of a band no one had ever heard of. Duke Ellington? She planned to Google it later.

  “Then what gives that we’re just sitting here? You have a math test today or something?” That always slowed her step on the way into school. She was good in math. But it still made her brain hurt.

  “Just making sure I’ve got my game face on. I’m going to hear it all day from the guys and I want to make sure I play my part.”

  “That’s called having second thoughts.” She couldn’t deny feeling deflated after last night’s texts. She’d thought he would be more into this, but he seemed nervous. And quieter than he had two nights ago on their date. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She reached for the door handle but he covered her other hand with his. Gently.

  “Mia. Wait.” He slid his hand under hers, letting hers rest on top. “It was my idea. I want to do this. I just don’t want to screw it up. When you came out of your house this morning, I took one look at you and realized it might be a tough sell to make people believe you’re dating me. And only me.”

  It took her a minute to process the words for all the good stuff they contained. A compliment to her for sure, which felt nice. But also...something like vulnerability. Which rarely passed from the lips of teens and never guys, in her experience.

  The honesty of it made her brave enough to pony up a confession of her own.

  “That’s funny, because I was worried all last night that you were playing me and this was going to be like that movie where the girl from the wrong side of the tracks is tricked into thinking she’s going to be homecoming queen before the kids throw pigs’ blood on her.”

  His eyes widened.

  “You have a scary imagination, Mia Benson.” His hand, still under hers and kind of cradling it, squeezed lightly. “And I hope I can prove to you that I’m not a bad guy.”

  A thrill went through her. There was no other word for the zingy feeling that fluttered around her insides. The number of students streaming toward the school increased as the time for the first bell drew closer. Headlights darted through the truck cab now and again even though the sun had risen a little while ago. The shouts and honks of kids greeting each other was more muted in the morning. The parking lot was far noisier in the afternoons.

  And right now it was so nice to think about Davis Reed and whatever was happening between them instead of all the scary crap of the night before. When Pete died, she would lose her safe place to live. Her ability to attend Crestwood.

  Damn it. She was not thinking about that right now.

  “I have an idea.” She took a deep breath, hoping her suggestion wasn’t crazy. But what did she have to lose after the way the first date went? “Something that might make us feel better about pulling this off.”

  She bit her lip. Told herself she could do this and it was going to be fine.

  “I’m listening.” He checked his digital watch, the clock face lighting up. “But it’s almost time so we should make it quick.”

  “We’ll feel more like we’re dating if we—you know—” She pointed to his mouth and hers. “Kiss.”

  Real smooth, Mia, a helpful sarcastic voice in her head trilled.

  She should have just kissed him, of course. But she could count on one hand the number of times she’d ever had a nice kiss. Because, duh. There were none. She wasn’t abo
ut to share her crappy kissing experiences with him. If he knew how to give nice kisses, she wanted him to take the lead.

  Too bad Davis looked like she’d just asked him to rob a candy store. Like he really wanted to, but it was against his ethics or something. Seriously.

  “Mia.” He turned toward her, his long leg brushing hers on the bench seat, but otherwise, he didn’t come closer. “When I kiss you next time—if there is a next time—I want it to be real. Not part of a game we’re playing.”

  She would not have thought that she’d be the kind of girl whose heart did backflips. But...yup. He turned her all kinds of inside out with that statement.

  When she said nothing—her throat had dried up—he smiled crookedly at her. Could he see how much his words affected her? She couldn’t tell. She could only watch, speechless, as Davis brushed his first two fingers over his lips and then grazed those same fingers along her cheek.

  She got legit goose bumps.

  “Besides,” he continued as the first bell blasted over the PA system in the parking lot. “I definitely wouldn’t want to rush it.”

  * * *

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE this place is even more jam-packed than yesterday.” Clayton swung Gabriella’s rental car into a spot on the street several blocks from the courthouse. “And we’re here early.”

  “It would have been easier to park the motorcycle, I bet,” she observed as she tied the belt on her coat together while he straightened out the vehicle. “If the weather was better, I would have enjoyed that, too.”

  So would he. And not just because taking the bike would have given him the chance to feel Gabby wrapped all around him for the duration of the ride. He truly appreciated the way the bike gave him more to do than a car, keeping his twitchiness at bay by engaging him on a lot of levels. His father was stable, according to the nurse Clay had spoken with this morning. But he was still out of it. Still in no position to have that conversation Clay had hoped they would have the day before.