Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2

by Lisa Ricard Claro

  “Rebecca.” Her name scraped from his throat, raw with emotion or lust. She wished the former but suspected the latter, though it made no difference because either way she was lost.

  They came together as they had the first time in his office, mouths desperate and passion high, hands seeking and finding, touching, bodies straining, aching to be closer than clothes allowed. She’d have crawled under his skin if she could and, when his mouth moved from her lips to taste the skin of her throat, her trembling knees threatened to betray her and send her to the planked floor, but his arms held her tight against him, thigh to thigh, hearts pounding together. She knew as long as she held on she’d be safe. He’d never let her fall.

  Except she wasn’t, and he would.

  He already had.

  “No.” Rebecca pushed away, staggered back several steps when Sean released her. “No,” she repeated, her breathing labored. His face blurred when her eyes welled, and she shook her head. “I—I can’t do this,” she said, and, hating herself for being a coward, she ran down the stairs and up the flagstone walkway, disappearing on the path that led back to the house.

  Chapter 14

  Sometime after dawn, Rebecca threw up until her stomach had nothing left, and then she suffered the dry heaves for another thirty minutes after that. Curled in the fetal position, she battled nausea and prayed for relief.

  It also stung, knowing that unless she’d picked up the flu, this was her own damned fault.

  After her embarrassing and melodramatic exit from the gazebo, she’d returned to the house, grabbed her purse, and spent a few minutes in the bathroom fixing her face and talking herself down off the ledge. The devil on her shoulder berated her for running away from an opportunity—Sean had made it clear he still thought her good for something, even if that something was only sex—and the angel on her other shoulder congratulated her for taking a big step toward personal recovery. Neither angel would shut up, so she silenced them both with a couple shots of tequila and another margarita. At some point, Nate had bundled her into his truck and taken her home, where he’d insisted on helping her into the house. She had a vague recollection of seeing the dark sedan in its spot across the street, but at that point she was half-asleep, so who knew? After she promised Nate she was fine and just needed rest, he left her fully clothed on the bed with Amelia curled around her head.

  Sleep brought with it weird dreams woven into her psyche. She stumbled to the bathroom in the early post-dawn hours when her rumbling stomach reached a fevered pitch and demanded to be emptied yet again.

  Now it was noon on Sunday, and she still didn’t feel human. She’d turned off her phone after the fourth call—first her mother, then Caleb, then Nate, then her Grampa Boone with gruff advice to “have a little hair of the dog that bit ya,” the thought of which made her queasy all over again. She’d have to call all of them, she knew, to thank them for their concern and assure them she felt fine, just embarrassed that she overindulged—or succumbed to the flu—at the birthday party of her six-year-old nephew. She imagined her mother making excuses for her, saying to Edie, “Well, every family has their problem child, you know? I guess Rebecca is ours.”

  Way to impress the mother of the man you’re in love with, she thought now, and groaned into her pillow.

  Bam-bam-bam.

  The pounding at the door reverberated through her skull and threatened to make it explode. Someone, she decided, was about to die a horrible death, either herself when her skull shattered or the person knocking.

  She would have stomped down the hall, but her head hurt too much, so instead she padded with care and yanked open the door with no concern for how she looked or who she might find on the other side.

  Maddie and Brenna stared at her for a second and then plowed past her, both with their hands full. Maddie carried coffees in a cardboard carrier, and Brenna had bags bearing the logo of the Lump & Grind. Rebecca followed them into the kitchen, her brows drawn in a permanent scowl.

  “Sit,” Brenna commanded, pointing to the kitchen table. Maddie led Rebecca to the table and pushed her into a chair. “You need caffeine,” Brenna said, while Maddie handed her a large coffee, “and carbs.” She paused while Maddie slid one of Greta’s cinnamon buns on a plate and set it in front of Rebecca. “And protein.” Brenna opened a carryout container with steaming scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. “You look like you’ve already puked up a lung, so food is going to do you good.”

  “The smell is nauseating.”

  “Tiny bites,” Maddie suggested. She pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled. “That always helps me.”

  Rebecca pushed the food away, rested her elbows on the table, and held her head in her hands. Did she have a stomach virus? Did the tequila just disagree with her? Doing shots had seemed like such a good idea last night.

  She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, but tears dripped out and splashed on the table. “I’m such an idiot.” She lifted her head and looked at her friends. “I’m an idiot, and I don’t deserve either one of you.”

  “Honey, if getting a little plowed were grounds for friendship dismissal, I’d be alone and abandoned by now,” Brenna said.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Rebecca said. “You’re too fabulous for that.”

  “She’s right,” Maddie concurred with a nod.

  Brenna considered and shrugged, dimpling. “It’s true. So let’s just say I’ve had my share of morning afters.” She exchanged a knowing glance with Maddie. “We both have. What we want to know is what got you started? You never take shots of anything, even when we try to peer pressure you into it. What happened, honey? Did you have a fight with Nate?”

  Maddie took Rebecca’s hand in her own, and her eyes radiated sympathy and encouragement. “Whatever it is, Becca, you can tell us. You know that, right?”

  Rebecca sniffled when Brenna took her other hand. How could she lie to either of these women or withhold information? And what difference did it make at this point, anyway?

  “Not Nate,” she rasped, misery swamping her. She drew a deep breath and blinked her eyes to quell her ridiculous tears. “It’s—it’s—”

  God help her, she couldn’t get it out. She might choke if she said his name.

  Brenna exchanged a look with Maddie. “Is it Sean, honey?”

  “Oh, my god. You know?” Rebecca pulled her hands free and covered her face.

  “I told you.”

  Brenna’s smug tone earned an eye roll from Maddie, who adjusted her glasses. “Like you’re the only one who knew.”

  “Oh, geez, does everyone know? Did I announce it in my drunken stupor last night? Did Nate tell? How did you find out?”

  “Oh, honey.” Brenna patted Rebecca’s shoulder, her expression amused. “When you and Sean look at each other you two generate so much heat everyone in the family is afraid to get in the way for fear of being incinerated.”

  Maddie nodded. “It’s true. Even Caleb said he wished you two would just get a room and get it over with already.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened and her jaw fell open. “No, he did not.”

  “Oh, he did,” Maddie assured her, and Brenna backed up the statement with a sage nod.

  Rebecca dropped her face into her hands again, her humiliation complete.

  “What I want to know is, what stupid dick move did my brother make? He must’ve done something or you never would’ve tied one on.” Brenna ripped a chunk from her cinnamon bun and pointed it at Rebecca for emphasis. “Details, and no skimping. I need to decide whether to be pissed at him or just amused at his raging idiocy.”

  “He didn’t do anything.” Rebecca pushed her hair off her face and held it back, wishing she had an elastic band, but lacked the motivation to go get one. Instead, she glanced from Maddie to Brenna and considered that they were operating under incorrect assumptions. Time to fess up.

  “Sean and I aren’t testing new waters.” She gulped and blurted, “We started up right before Thanksgiving and split a few
weeks after Christmas.”

  “Oh, wow. Burned hot and fast, then.” Brenna nodded with understanding. “So what happened to end it?”

  Rebecca’s throat closed on the words, so she answered with a shrug. It took her a moment to find the breath to say, “It wasn’t really a relationship in the true sense of the word.”

  Brenna scowled. “You didn’t let him talk you into one of his stupid arrangements, did you?”

  Rebecca winced. “I’m the one who pushed the idea. He was totally against it at first.” Her face burned with humiliation. “Remember at Maddie and Cal’s engagement party when I said I wished I could just have sex without the hassle of a serious relationship? That’s what I thought I wanted, so when Sean and I talked about it, well…” She drew a shuddering breath. “…it made sense at the time. And then I screwed everything up by falling in love with him, and even though I never said the words, I’m sure he knew I’d crossed that line, and—” Tears overflowed when she blinked, and she wiped them from her cheeks with a frustrated swipe of her hands. “—and he ended it. No strings, no drama, no questions. Just goodbye. Those were the rules I agreed to, and I didn’t break them. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. Over is still over, no matter the reason.” She scrubbed the last of her tears away and grabbed a piece of bacon. “All that really matters is that he doesn’t want me anymore.” She remembered the two of them getting all hot and heavy at the gazebo and reconsidered. “Well, he wants me, but only for sex. And, god help me, I’m stupid in love with him. It’s going nowhere, and I know that. I just haven’t figured out how to let go yet. I’ll get there. I will. Just not today.”

  She took a bite of the bacon, and her stomach rumbled with answering hunger. She soon made short shrift of the scrambled eggs and then downed her own cinnamon bun and stole half of Maddie’s while her friends watched her pig out.

  Brenna eyed her with concern. “You sure you should be eating that so fast?”

  “You’re the one who said I should eat. And anyway, I’m starving,” Rebecca said through a mouthful of sugary pastry. “I could eat a whole freaking cow right now.”

  “How much did you drink last night, anyway?” Maddie grabbed the last of her cinnamon bun to keep it safe from Rebecca’s appetite explosion. “I didn’t think you had that much.”

  “That’s the weird thing. I didn’t think so either. I had a margarita right after Nate and I first got there, and then after my…um…run in with Sean, I had a couple shots of tequila with you.” She glanced at Brenna. “But that was it. Oh, no, wait. I had another margarita about an hour after our last shot. So I had four drinks over the course of the whole afternoon and evening. I don’t think I overdid it.”

  “Caleb said there’s a stomach virus making the rounds with the construction crew. He thought maybe you’d picked up the bug from the guys.” Maddie’s smile offered encouragement. “That’s what he told everyone. That you probably caught the tummy bug.”

  Rebecca’s lips curved up. “God bless Cal. He always has my back. The rest of the fam just figures I’m a lush. In any event, TJ’s party wasn’t the time or place for me to do shots of tequila. I’m sorry, Maddie.” She shot Brenna a pointed look.

  Brenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, fine. I guess I’m sorry, too.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re feeling better now,” Maddie said.

  “You know, I do feel better. It’s weird. You’d think I’d have a hangover all day if the problem was too much booze.”

  “Maybe Cal’s right and you picked up a bug, the kind that lasts twelve to twenty-four hours and then goes away. And remember, you felt queasy after you ate the cake. Sweet Lord, I’d forgotten about that. You were sick before you drank the tequila.” Maddie brightened. “I’ll make sure everyone knows about that so you won’t take any ribbing at our next get together.”

  “Oh, she’ll take a ribbing anyway,” Brenna said.

  “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t let on to Sean that you know anything about, you know, anything. I guess I didn’t confide in y’all before because, well, I didn’t want you to think less of me, and I didn’t want to put you—or any of us—in an awkward situation. Sean’s your brother, and—”

  “And you’re our friend. Whatever happens is between you and Sean, but you don’t have to suffer alone. We’re here if you need to talk, but we’ll stay out of it,” Brenna said. “And we won’t ever pass on any information you haven’t asked us to.”

  “I can vouch for that. Remember, I used to be married to her other brother,” Maddie said. “Sweet Lord, Jack would make me so mad sometimes, and I’d call Brenna to vent. She never betrayed my confidences when I talked to her about Jack, and she won’t betray yours now.”

  Brenna batted her lashes. “I really am fabulous.”

  Maddie laughed and gave Brenna a light shove, then said to Rebecca. “I won’t betray your confidences either. You can trust us.”

  And she did trust them, Rebecca thought much later, after the women had taken the time to play with Amelia before leaving Rebecca alone again to wallow in her misery. Even so, she’d be careful what she shared.

  She didn’t want to put them in the middle of anything or force them to take sides.

  She showered and twirled her hair into a messy bun, skipped makeup—because, hey, why bother?— poured herself a glass of iced sweet tea, and sat on her porch steps to enjoy the temperate weather. She waved to Vern when he came outside with his basketball, and scooted over to allow him room to sit beside her when he loped across the yard.

  “How’s your econ coming?” she asked when he plopped down beside her.

  “I’ve got a B.” He settled the basketball between his feet and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Only a few more months till summer, and then I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  They chatted about random subjects and waved to neighbors who strolled past. Vern regaled her with tales of high school drama, and Rebecca laughed with him about the few teachers remaining who she recalled from her own high school days.

  “I gotta go,” Vern said after taking a call from his mother about an hour later. He shoved his cell phone into the pocket of his shorts as he stood and grinned. “She’s taking me driving. I get my permit soon.”

  “Good for you.” Rebecca stood and dusted off her butt. “Let me know if you need tutoring.”

  “I will. See ya.” Vern stooped to pick up his ball and waved before walking away.

  She waved back and then paused at her front door. “Hey, kiddo, have you ever noticed a dark-colored car parked across the street? A four-door sedan.”

  “Yeah. I figured it was that cop you’re dating. Thought it was weird he never parks in your driveway, though.”

  “It isn’t Nate. Nate drives a truck. I don’t know who it is.”

  Vern shrugged. “But it’s just parked there, right? Probably it belongs to a neighbor.”

  Rebecca nodded and smiled, gave him a final wave before going inside, and shook off the feeling of discomfort.

  She refilled her glass with sweet tea and poked in the pantry for a snack. She spotted a lone Ding-Dong hiding behind a box of Cheerios, and the sight of it froze her in place. She stared at it as if it might bite, then picked it up, her lips curving in a sad smile.

  Chocolate Man missed one.

  She tore the cellophane pack and bit into the pastry, unsure why Sean favored this particular treat. She licked her lips to clear them of crumbs, took a taste of the cream filling. Not bad, she decided, and popped the rest of the dessert into her mouth. Yummy. Who knew?

  Still craving more sweets, she opened a tin of macadamia nut cookies the Walker & Son foreman, Howard Windler, had given her after he returned from his Hawaiian vacation. She had teased him that it was his way of thanking her for showing off her stuff the day he and Trey had walked in on her changing her clothes. The same day Sean rescued her from the side of the road and they drove together to Cal and Maddie’s engagement party. Less than six month
s, but it seemed like a million years ago now.

  She grabbed two cookies, closed the tin, and put it away in an effort to prevent a binge.

  “Oh, what the hell.” She grabbed the tin, her sweet tea, and plopped on the couch to enjoy her sugar gorge while watching TV. Only a sappy love story would do, preferably one featuring Ryan Gosling or Channing Tatum with at least one shirtless scene because, otherwise, what was the point?

  She settled on a romantic comedy featuring actors she’d never heard of—alas, no shirtless Ryan or Channing was available in the movie lineup—snugged herself in, bit into a cookie, and made a mental note while she chewed to thank Howard for giving her such a delectable treat.

  One scene and three cookies into the rom-com her stomach gurgled and surged.

  The tin of cookies landed in the trash on her mad dash for the bathroom.

  ***

  The next morning, Rebecca slid her purse under her desk and sat in her chair, staring at the coffee she’d picked up from the Lump & Grind on her way into work. She’d spent a few bad hours last night, hocking up every bit of food she’d consumed Sunday morning, as well as the unfortunate Ding-Dong and handful of macadamia nut cookies. The thought of food made her queasy, but she felt fine when she awoke this morning—starving, but fine—and had made her usual stop at Brenna’s place of business on the off chance she might be able to hold something in her stomach. The scent of Greta’s fresh cinnamon buns now wafted from the bag sitting next to the coffee, and she debated the wisdom of eating, or drinking anything stronger than water.

  The door buzzed when Big Will came in just after seven.

  “You okay, little britches? Caleb said you were sick with the flu bug. Go home if you need to. I can handle things here.”

  “I’m okay for now. I’ll call the doctor when their office opens and see if they can squeeze me in sometime today.”

  “Well, take care of yourself. We’re not too busy this week,” he said and lumbered into his office.

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. Not too busy? They were slammed, with a couple of zoning meetings and three building inspections, plus payroll and quarterly estimated taxes coming due. Added to that, half their workforce was down with the stomach virus that was, she assumed, the reason she couldn’t bring herself to rip open the L&G bag and dive into her cinnamon bun. Her stomach gurgled at the mere thought, and she swallowed a wave of nausea.