by Debra Webb
“Cut me some slack,” Drew said, pushing a hand through his hair. “Leaving that day wasn’t my choice, Addi. Mad or not, you have to concede that much.”
She didn’t feel inclined to concede anything at all. “Let’s keep the focus on the here and now, Drew. You can’t get his hopes up.”
“Why not?” He spread his hands wide. “It’s clear he wants a dad. Good news all around. I am his dad. I want to make his every hope come true.”
“And how will you explain where you’ve been all his life?”
He sat up and shook his head. “We will find a way. Both of us. Together we can tell him so he understands.”
“And so he accepts you.” Why did that scare her so much?
“Is that such a bad thing? I intend to be a part of his life.”
She hated the way her heart skipped at the image that popped into her mind. She could see it so easily, the three of them gathered around a dinner table or chowing down on hot dogs at a baseball game.
“From Detroit? You’ll just pop in whenever it’s convenient?”
“You know me better than that.”
“I know the old you.”
“I’m the same man.” He sighed. “You could move closer to me. We could...”
She waited, but he didn’t finish. “Are you in a good school district?”
“Probably not, but this swamp is hardly the pinnacle of academic power.”
“This isn’t a permanent relocation,” she insisted. “Once Craig is back in custody, I’ll find the right place to raise our son.”
“If what little I’ve heard is any indication, you’ll need protection. I can give you that.”
She wanted to demand what he’d heard, what he thought he knew about Craig, but the day’s events, the entire situation had caught up with her. Pasting a smile on her face, she searched for kind words. “Thank you for letting us stay out here.” Weary, she sat down on the other side of the fading fire. It wasn’t far enough away. “I know you want to take us in, that you think Casey can help, but I’m not ready to risk speaking with anyone connected to the government right now.”
“What didn’t you tell them?”
She shook her head, thinking of the package she’d sent to Professor Hastings. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“You’ll have to trust me, then.”
He snorted. “That’s a bit easier if you trust me, too.”
“I did trust you.” Then and now, it seemed, but she had no intention of admitting as much. In her opinion, trust didn’t have to mean giving up control of the situation. She wasn’t sure Drew shared that opinion.
He came around to sit in the chair beside her. As he leaned close, his scent and heat crowded her. “Is that so?”
She nodded, unable to speak as her gaze drifted to his mouth. She remembered his taste, the way his lips had felt on hers. It was his taste, his expert touch that haunted her dreams and the recurring nightmare that she’d never find anyone else who could spark her passion. Had he changed, had his kiss changed? Or would it be a reprise of the way it had been: an explosion of heat and desire at first contact?
She wasn’t sure which outcome scared her more, but she didn’t get the chance to find out. Drew leaned back abruptly and tipped his face to the night sky.
“Do you remember the wedding rehearsal?” As soon as the question was out, she wanted to snatch it back, but it was too late. The lid was blown off the proverbial box where she’d locked away her memories of that precious time.
“Of course I do,” he replied, still watching the sky.
“We practiced the kiss.” She couldn’t believe how much she wanted to practice it again. Had she lost her mind on some belated sugar overdose?
“The minister looked surprised when I dipped you back.”
“Your dad was worried we’d make it a Hollywood production.” She saw his lips tip in a faint impression of a smile.
“He knew better. He loved you.”
And she’d loved him. Even through her grief-stricken anger that his heart had given up before he’d met his grandson. She remembered feeling as though the army had snatched Drew away and stolen his father as collateral damage.
She and Andy hadn’t been enough to carry Mr. Bryant through the oppressive grief and loss. It wasn’t fair to even think it—then or now. She’d known better even then, but it had required many expensive hours of therapy purging those destructive feelings so she could be a better mom. Based on the grim emotions churning inside her now, she might have to book some more time on a psychiatrist’s couch when this was over.
“I kissed you on our wedding day,” Drew said.
“What?”
“And every day since.”
“Are you hallucinating?”
He met her gaze once more. “Did you know the stars are brighter on the other side of the world?” He picked up her hand, ran his thumb unerringly over the place where her wedding band should have been.
He’d lost it. Something inside him had snapped. What was she supposed to do with a little boy and a mentally broken bodyguard?
“Every night, whether I could see the stars or not, I imagined kissing you at the front of that church.”
She yanked her hand away. It was too painful to hear, to think about. Her emotions were a jumble in her belly. She feared what his words might mean, feared this desperate need to give in to her body’s persistent desire for him.
She—they—had a son to consider. Andy’s physical and emotional safety came first; it had to. “I’m going inside.”
“You’re running away.”
“Don’t you dare judge me for doing what I must to survive.”
“Are we talking about the present or the past?”
“Push me, Drew! Go ahead and push me further and I’ll prove how well I can hide. Even from you.”
It was a struggle, but she held her ground when he came to his feet in a move as graceful and quiet as a predatory cat. “Push you? Addi, I know a little something about being pushed. I understand limits and the dark places beyond them more than any other man you know.”
She’d only ever known him. Had never wanted to know another man. “We should’ve been married.” Again, the words that came out were different than the words she’d meant to say. What was wrong with her? She needed space, time. And a different bodyguard. This was too much to tolerate.
“You have to tell Andy about me.”
Oh, but she had. Without any facts, she’d told Andy about Drew as a hero, a patriot, a strong, vibrant man who loved him no matter how much time or distance separated them. When she’d learned Drew had been killed in action, her connection with their baby buoyed her through the darkest days of her grief. She’d named their son after his father. Wasn’t that enough for him?
“I won’t let him down. Trust me, Addi. Give me a chance and I won’t let either of you down again.”
She wanted to believe him. Her heart already did. His earnest expression cracked the wall she’d built up as protection from loss and pain. From the first moment they’d met, Drew had been able to breach those barriers, but she’d built them up again—thicker and stronger—when she’d lost her husband before she’d said her vows.
Mired in that grim place, she’d been so jealous of people who had family. Simple survival meant she’d had to build some sort of defense against the world or wallow in self-pity for being denied the priceless gift other people took for granted. Her parents both dead before she’d finished her bachelor’s degree, she had no living relatives on either side of her family tree. No heritage beyond stories to pass to her son.
“I plotted ways to get even with you for leaving me at the altar. They were funny and silly at first. Romantic challenges, you might say. They turned darker as the anger set in when weeks passed and I didn’t hear anything more from you.” Why was she telling him this? It wouldn’t change anything. “I kept the note you sent.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you.”
“I named Andy after you, hoping the killed-in-action reports were wrong and you’d be happy when you finally came back.” She reached for her necklace, slid the two charms across the chain. “But you didn’t.”
Standing face-to-face with him, she knew there would never be a wall or any defense measure capable of keeping him out of her heart and soul. She dropped the necklace back under her shirt and pushed her hands into her pockets. With Craig on the loose, she couldn’t bear the thought of putting Drew in any more danger. Bad enough Craig knew her weak spot was Andy. If he thought for a moment she cared for Drew, he’d be a target, too. She suspected Drew would blow off her concerns, but that didn’t lessen them. “It’s too late for us,” she whispered. “We’ll tell Andy the truth about you. We’ll figure out a custody arrangement.”
“It can’t be too late for us, Addi.” He paused, clearing his throat. “What we have is—”
“Was.” She cut him off. “Past tense. What we had is over. Our wedding and every day leading up to it are no more than lovely, idyllic memories for both of us.” She turned for the cabin before the tears filling her eyes spilled down her cheeks. “Too much has changed.”
“Not for me.”
She didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Oh, she heard the words. They landed softly on her heart, following her to the cabin and into restless, impossible dreams.
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon, under a hot summer sun, Drew glanced across the picnic blanket, watching Andy help his mother unload their lunch. He was a good kid, and Drew couldn’t fault how Addi had raised him. They needed to tell him the truth, let him adjust to the idea of having a real dad. It wouldn’t be easy—for any of them—but that wasn’t Drew’s biggest problem.
No, Drew understood the biggest struggle of his life was with Addi. Whoever said love at first sight didn’t exist didn’t know squat about it. Seeing her, he’d felt something inside him opening like a key in a lock. Curious, he hadn’t fought it, just followed, and soon he’d experienced a love beyond measure. A love that hadn’t shriveled under the long-distance pressure of her law school or his busy military career.
He felt awkward admitting it, even knowing she wasn’t romantically attached to anyone, but he loved her still. Desperately. It made him vulnerable personally and in his role as her protector. Temporary protector, if she had her way. He was afraid to ask if she might have any emotions left for him. The answer was obvious enough—she’d been engaged to another man. She might not be able to deny the old physical spark, but he wanted more than her body. He wanted her heart once more. He just couldn’t be with her and not be with her. The physical chemistry was a good start, but it went so much deeper. For him anyway.
But this wasn’t the time to navigate that particular minefield. They had more immediate problems, and any mistake could be their last. If he didn’t get her into Casey’s protection soon, if he messed up and something happened to her or Andy, this op would accomplish the one thing the POW experience hadn’t: it would break him.
The time between their introduction and their wedding had been the best of his life. Before Addi, he’d had family, good friends and the best support a career soldier could want. But she’d brightened up all of that. Loving her, being loved by her, had brought all those pieces together. Loving her made him stronger, gave him something even more significant, more personal to fight for. It sounded clichéd even in his head, but it was true. Loving her, believing she still loved him, had saved his life in that hellhole.
He looked at Andy, then at her. Loving her, he’d been willing to let her keep her new family and all the happiness he’d witnessed that day in the park. Now, knowing her son and their family of two was really his, he wanted it all, but he didn’t know if he could give her what she needed in return.
Edgy and tense, she had reason to distrust the world, and if he admitted he’d tracked her down only to walk away, he’d give her a valid reason to distrust him.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He looked up as her shadow fell over him. “Famished.” He didn’t mean the food. Between their son and the imminent danger, he couldn’t indulge his basic need to take and taste, to remind them both, on the most basic level, of what they’d once shared. She might not believe it was there, but he did. Instead, he decided right then and there to focus on what he could do. He could be the man he’d intended to be—her husband and a father—and he could keep them both safe until she trusted him enough to take her in to talk with Director Casey.
“Come on over and make a plate.”
“I can’t believe how well your friend stocked this place.”
She smiled. “Based on that stash, I think he was planning an extended getaway. I feel a little guilty for taking advantage. I’ll have to find a way to make it up to him.”
“I like Nico’s tree house,” Andy said.
“Me, too,” Drew agreed. Especially the wide porch that saved him from having to share the tight quarters with Addi through the night. “Has your mom taken you fishing yet?”
“Not ever,” Andy said around a bite of ham sandwich.
“Chew first,” Addi reminded him.
“I saw some fishing poles in that cubby under the cabin this morning. It would be a good way to spend some time this afternoon.” Anything to create more breathing room. He couldn’t decide if the temptation of being close to her was worse than the surge of grief whenever he thought of the time they’d lost. “If we can find some bait, we’ll be set.”
“What kind of stuff makes bait?”
He smiled at the boy. Drew wondered when it would stop feeling like a punch to the gut to look at his son. “The best bait is something that makes the fish curious enough to bite and get hooked. It could be a worm or a smaller fish. Some fishermen use fake bugs.”
“Cool!”
“It all depends on what kind of fish you’re trying to catch.”
“Will you come, too?” Andy asked his mom.
Drew knew it was more than a good idea. Sticking together was necessary under the circumstances. At least if they were outside fishing, they couldn’t keep arguing, and with Andy nearby, Drew would have a distraction from his perpetual need for Addi.
The three of them discussed the various fish living in the swamp and the different baits each fish preferred. Addi had looked perfectly content in the city with her fiancé and son, but out here she seemed equally at ease with her surroundings.
“You know, the best time to fish is early in the morning,” she said. “Before the sun is up.”
Andy’s face sank with disappointment and his shoulders slumped. “Can’t we practice today?”
“Definitely,” she said. “But if you hope to catch anything, you should choose a cool and shady place.”
The boy beamed once more. “Can it be just me and Drew?”
“Not this time,” Drew answered before Addi had to be the bad guy. “But there will be other days when we can go out just the two of us.” He met the hard look Addi aimed at him head-on. This wasn’t a matter of overpromising. Come hell or high water, he would be a part of Andy’s life from this point forward.
As they cleaned up the picnic and returned to the cabin for fishing poles and a bucket for bait, he kept an eye out for any sign of trouble. So far today, the only trouble was the prickly mother of his son. It was impossible to miss how they both used Andy as a shield, more than happy to talk to him but not each other.
He couldn’t blame her, couldn’t even imagine how difficult it must’ve been raising Andy alone. While they dug for worms he experienced a jolt of anger, like heat lightning, realizing how close he’d come to never knowing he had a son. Sure, he’d walked away in San Francisco, but she’d nearly pushed him away two nights ago.
It was a relief to head back toward the water, letting Andy’s unending string of questions blur out the various levels of his worry and frustration. He taught his son how to cast a line, how to extricate the line from leaves and
debris and then the more important lesson of sitting quietly while the bait did its work.
That last part proved the biggest challenge for the boy. Insects buzzed quietly out over the water and once in a while a fish would strike but not at their lines. Drew lay back on the grass, but Andy fidgeted.
“Who taught you to fish?” Andy twisted and knotted a bit of tall marsh grass.
“When I was growing up, my dad took me fishing on a lake that felt as big as an ocean,” he answered quietly. “You couldn’t see across to the other side.”
“Where was that?”
“Michigan.”
“We can almost see the Pacific Ocean from our house in San Francisco,” Andy said. “But no one fishes there.”
“What about on Fisherman’s Wharf?”
Andy laughed, his small shoulders rounding as he tried to stay quiet. “No one fishes with poles and stuff out there. They get on boats and go way out from shore.”
“Oh,” Drew said. “That makes sense.”
“How do you know about Fisherman’s Wharf?”
“Stories and pictures. I’ve only been to San Francisco once.” On the trip when he’d tracked down Addi and found her looking so perfect and happy with another man and this little boy. “California has a lot going for it. You must like it there.”
“I live there,” Andy said, as if that explained it all. “I learned the whole San Francisco history from school field trips.”
“Impressive.”
“And books.”
“You like to read?”
“Yeah.” Andy leaned out and checked his line. “Did that move?”
“Not the way we want it to.”
“Oh.” He slumped back, then shifted, flopping down to mirror Drew’s position, propping himself on his hands. “Mom and I read every night.”
“History books?” He slid a glance at Addi, but she didn’t seem to be listening. “Those would sure put me to sleep.”
“No.” Andy giggled. “Comic books. They’re better for bedtime.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“Captain America!” Andy bounced to his knees, then remembering they were supposed to be quiet, whispered the answer once more.