Walker bent over her and gave her a kiss, and she stood to walk him to the back door, keeping the afghan wrapped around herself. Once outside, they embraced and tilted their heads upward to consider the sinuous Milky Way painted on the sky above them.
“They’re expecting Jana to get better and be released from the hospital in a few weeks,” he said. “So without anything else going wrong, she’ll be back in Bourbon Springs soon.”
“That’s great!” She was already so tired of not having Walker around.
Walker held CiCi out at arm’s length and took her hands. Something told her that what he’d told her actually wasn’t that great.
“Jana won’t be able to live on her own for a while. I’m going to move her in to my house for a while until she can care for herself.”
She dropped Walker’s hands. “What?”
This was too much.
Her inner bitch clawed and scratched to be released, and CiCi feared she could no longer contain that part of her personality when it came to Jana and this nasty little piece of news.
“CiCi, she’s got nowhere else to go.”
“How about her own place?” CiCi retorted and tightened the afghan around her curvy frame. “The woman’s not homeless.”
“Her house has too many stairs. I have a ranch, one-story home. It’s just what she needs right now.”
That’s not the only thing she needs.
Or thinks she needs.
And she doesn’t just want it for right now.
She wants you again. Forever.
The jealousy surged through CiCi like a poison unabated. She had held it back as long as she could. Why did events continue to conspire to keep this woman in Walker’s life?
“I’ve already spoken with Bo and Hannah about this. They’ll help as much as they can. Said they’d help move her in, to the extent that’s necessary. And it’s not like Jana will be at my house for very long.”
She almost said I should hope not, but held her tongue as Walker kissed her, told her he loved her, and disappeared into her backyard on his way to his own home. CiCi watched him blend into the darkness.
She felt angry, disappointed, abandoned.
Things she’d never felt after making love to Walker.
And that scared her.
* * *
The doctors’ prediction had been correct. Within two weeks of Jana’s accident, she had returned to Bourbon Springs.
And she was living with Walker.
Hannah, Lila, and CiCi helped move Jana; no heavy lifting was required, only organization of clothes, toiletries, medicines. CiCi decided to pitch in as much as possible even though her feelings on the subject of Jana as Walker’s roomie remained unchanged. Not that she’d gotten many opportunities to talk to him about those feelings, or anything else, for that matter.
She saw very little of Walker, and the days began to add up since they had been intimate, their last time being their hot, quick session on her couch. And that encounter had, at least from her perspective, not ended well due to her own anger and jealousy. CiCi was admittedly frustrated, but Jana was blameless for her condition. So whose fault was it for the way she felt?
Her own.
Because of her attitude.
But that was hard to adjust, although CiCi was self-aware enough to know her feelings were not those of a grown woman in love with a grown man.
So she struggled and faked her good cheer and kept her resentment to herself, only letting Walker get fleeting glimpses of her irritation when they did manage to see each other. She kept up a mental mantra to get her through these times.
Jana would get better and leave. It would end, she told herself. It would be over soon. And life would go on the way it had. Back to normal. She remembered thinking the same things when she’d been young, convinced that her father would return.
Yet the days stretched on.
It was like Walker thought he was living with his mother.
No late nights at his place, of course, and he avoided late nights at hers. And while during this time they had some pretty hot make-out sessions on her couch, it never moved on to sex. CiCi even briefly considered trying to lure him into the evidence room in the basement of the courthouse just to see whether the change of surroundings would motivate him to get into her pants again.
And why the hell didn’t he want her in his?
She didn’t like how he’d physically and emotionally pulled away from her, but she told herself that he was under a lot of stress.
Right. That had to be it. Stress.
So to recapture a little of the romance that had been lost in their relationship, CiCi insisted they go to The Windmill for lunch one early August Saturday, and Walker agreed.
But even a lunch date at The Windmill, something she had taken for granted only weeks earlier, might be denied them.
“You want me to what?”
“I need you to come over and stay with Jana,” Walker said. “She’s come down with a bad cold, and I have to get out to the distillery. There’s a problem with a grain shipment, and Bo wants my opinion on whether we should reject it. It rarely happens, so when it does, it’s a big deal. I should be back soon. Perhaps we can still go to lunch together, depending on how Jana’s feeling.”
“So you want me to babysit?”
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he snapped. “I just need a little help.”
CiCi swallowed her pride and the bile at the back of her throat and told him she’d be there in a few minutes. Walker said he needed to leave immediately and for CiCi to let herself into the house.
With every step toward Walker’s place, her grumpiness level increased. She was mad at the situation, but also mad at herself for not being more sympathetic. Walker was trying to do the right thing, the neighborly thing in a small town by helping someone out. Jana just needed a friend, someone there to be with her in case she needed help in getting up and moving around. That’s what people did for each other in Bourbon Springs.
And CiCi was a Bourbon Springs girl. No matter how jealous and angry she felt, it was time to suck it up and do the right thing.
Despite having a key, CiCi rang the doorbell to announce her arrival. She found Jana in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a bowl of soup in front of her.
The woman looked terrible.
Jana’s hair was faded and stringy. Her skin, usually pale and aglow, was dull and lifeless. She had lost weight—most likely muscle—and looked a little undernourished.
“Hey,” was the only greeting Jana could muster as CiCi took a seat.
“You don’t look so great,” CiCi admitted. “Need anything?”
“Not unless you can get the past month of my life back for me,” she joked. “I’m so over feeling like crap. I’d been getting better, but then this cold hit me.”
CiCi fussed over the scant lunch Jana was eating. She cleared the soup bowl and started looking in Walker’s pantry and fridge for something else to put in front of the woman, hoping to tempt her to eat a little more.
CiCi suggested a few things: macaroni and cheese, a turkey sandwich, fruit. But nothing appealed to Jana.
“I think I’d like to rest on the couch,” she announced, pushing back from the table.
CiCi helped Jana out of her seat and noticed she still had mobility problems. Her leg was still very bruised and stiff, and her broken ribs were healing slowly.
“I cannot wait to get back to work,” she said. “I hate being cooped up. Like living with my mother all over again.”
In spite of herself, CiCi snorted. And Jana laughed with her, dropping with a groan onto the couch. CiCi covered Jana with a blanket.
“Walker’s done so much for me,” Jana said, turning serious very quickly. “I don’t know how to repay him for… for everything.” She started to cry.
CiCi got a box of tissues from the end table and handed them to Jana, then sat in a chair next to her.
How does one get through this kind of situ
ation? Injured ex-wife of your boyfriend crying about how nice he is? What’s the protocol for that situation?
Default to nice.
“He’s a great guy,” CiCi said and nodded, trying to be conversational and casual.
But the remark was too honest.
“Yeah, he is,” Jana said, dabbing at her eyes with some tissues. “Caring, patient, considerate. He’s amazing.”
Jana gradually recovered from her crying jag. But CiCi knew the source of those tears wasn’t merely overwhelming gratitude on Jana’s part; they came from grief, loss, and pain.
“You still love him, don’t you?” CiCi asked before she could stop herself.
“Of course I do.” Jana looked directly at CiCi. There was no hesitation or embarrassment. No shock at the question or any effort at denial.
CiCi stood, anxious to leave but knowing she was supposed to be there for Jana’s benefit. So much for being there to help.
“He told you what happened, didn’t he?”
CiCi walked away from the couch and gave no reply. Jana wasn’t entitled to know what Walker had confided in her, and CiCi wasn’t going to break that level of trust. If Walker wanted to tell, he could.
But her expression must have betrayed her knowledge.
“He did tell, didn’t he?” Jana asked, glancing at CiCi’s face.
Then the door from the kitchen to the garage opened, and Walker was there. They hadn’t heard his car.
“Hey,” he said, addressing Jana before even acknowledging CiCi’s presence. “Feeling any better?”
“Not… not really,” Jana said, wadding the spent tissues. The little white balls littered her lap and one fell to the floor. “I’m tired.” She put her head down on the arm of the couch. The dismissal of CiCi was implied.
“I guess I’d better get going,” CiCi said, relieved and not at all offended by Jana’s brush-off.
After a quick good-bye to both, she went to the back porch, deciding to cut through the yards between her house and Walker’s place. CiCi wanted to get home fast, but she’d barely made it outside before Walker grabbed her hand and stopped her.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded. “Jana’s back there in tears.”
CiCi hesitated, wondering whether this confrontation was worth it.
Did he need to know what happened?
Yes. Walker had to know. If she didn’t tell him, Jana would.
CiCi gripped a railing that was at the top of a small flight of stairs leading to the lawn, feeling dizzy from the emotion of the moment as well as the intense summer heat.
“We were talking and—and she admitted to me that she’s still in love with you.”
“She—what? How the hell—she said that?”
“Yes.”
“And exactly how did this subject come up?”
“She was saying how grateful she was to you,” CiCi said. “And how considerate and patient and amazing you are—her exact words, not mine, although I agree with all of them. And—and—”
“And what?”
She hesitated but knew there was no explanation but the truth. “I asked her.”
“You asked her just like that?” Walker snapped his fingers in CiCi’s face. “Why the hell did you do that, CiCi? Couldn’t you see how sick that woman has been?”
“Are you saying you don’t believe her? Or that you’re okay with it?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Of course it matters! She’s your ex, living with you in your house! And she still loves you!”
“My point is that she’s been sick and needs a break. She had no one else there for her, CiCi. And she’s very fragile.”
CiCi was completely flummoxed. Why was he so seemingly undisturbed by this information? And why was he defending Jana?
Because he already knew.
He’d already figured it out, living again in close quarters with his ex-wife.
This was the man who’d told her about how Jana had lied to him, how she’d wanted to reconcile, and how she’d wanted him back so much that she was willing to lie about being pregnant with his child.
He had known she was calculating and how she worked.
But here he was in front of CiCi, telling her to back off.
Defending and protecting Jana.
Telling CiCi to be easy on her. Be nice.
Oh, and overlook the obvious that she wants me back.
The man you love.
Or loved.
A cold knot of fear grew in CiCi’s stomach. Jana was already back in Walker’s house. And well on her way to worming her way back into his heart.
And he had known what she had been feeling.
“Then get back in there and comfort her if she’s such a delicate little thing.”
She raced down the porch steps to the lawn and was halfway across the yard before Walker yelled at her to stop. Ignoring his cries, CiCi fled through a neighboring yard toward the safety of her home, the tears flowing as she ran.
* * *
Walker remained on the porch for several minutes, thinking. And the more he thought, the angrier he got at both Jana and CiCi.
He was surprised at CiCi’s immaturity. He hadn’t seen this side of her; he didn’t like it and wasn’t sure how to handle it despite understanding its origins.
But more importantly, Jana had to go. She was better—not recovered, but better—and he had to get her out of his home. Because he knew the truth: Jana loved him.
Walker moved back toward the house and dropped onto a bench, trying to cool his roiling thoughts on that hot day. It wasn’t easy.
Even if Jana left, his relationship with CiCi had taken a huge hit; things would not be quickly mended. He was angry with her for bringing up the subject so pointedly to Jana, and angry she couldn’t see that he had only been trying to do the right thing by someone who needed him.
But wasn’t that exactly what had happened to him last time?
True, this time, Jana hadn’t lied to get back into his life.
But once more, trying to be the nice guy had only gotten him in the middle and miserable.
31
Walker was about to get up off the bench and return to the house when he turned and saw Jana coming out onto the porch.
“You’re sick,” he said. “You should get back inside.”
“I’m not a complete invalid, Walker. And I think a little sunshine would do me good after all the time I’ve spent indoors lately.”
“I’m sorry you got upset,” he said, seeing Jana was still rattled by what had happened.
Jana sat next to him. “And I’m sorry if I upset CiCi. I assume she told you what I said.” He acknowledged that CiCi had, and Jana took in a long breath. “I meant it. I still love you, Walker.”
“I know,” he said without emotion.
Jana’s mouth opened, and her chin quivered. “You… you do?”
“How could I not know after being around you so much for the past three or so weeks now? I was married to you—remember? I know what you’re like.”
Jana dropped her head and blushed like an embarrassed school girl. “What did I do?”
“Not sure it was any one thing.” Walker stared out into his lawn, wishing he’d see CiCi’s face emerging from behind a bush or tree. “Just little things.”
Like the soft tone of Jana’s voice. Her smile. Her almost constant stream of expressions of gratitude for what he’d done for her. And the way he’d caught her looking at him one morning in the kitchen when he’d been shirtless and he’d thought she was still in bed.
Even though he’d suspected her feelings, he hadn’t been able to believe Jana was still in love with him. But as time passed, he had seen that CiCi had been right. He certainly hadn’t been looking for the signs of lingering affection, and he didn’t welcome them. Yet he could no longer deny what was right in front of him, under his own roof.
“CiCi finally asked me point-blank, and I told the truth,” Jana said, looking directl
y into his eyes. “I love you. I was stupid and horrible to you, I admit it. And I’ve been trying to keep my distance, but that isn’t possible in a place like Bourbon Springs. And now you’ve taken me in your home, cared for me…”
She started to shake, and Walker put his arm around her. “I knew you needed someone, Jana, but now—”
“I didn’t come to Bourbon Springs with a plan to get you back, but I guess I did come with a lot of hope. And I’m not going to deny it: I do want you back. I’ve wanted you back ever since you walked out the day when I finally told you the truth about not being pregnant,” she said, her tears falling down onto her shorts. “And… and I just hope you can forgive me, Walker,” she finished, choking on the last few words.
“Jana, I forgave you a while ago.” He squeezed her with the one arm he had around her shoulders.
Her face brightened, and he knew that look: an expression of hope.
Hope which he was about to kill.
She tried to put her hand on his face, but he caught it and held it down.
“Jana, I forgave you. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I guess I should’ve told you this already. But I went through that process—it took a while—but I finally realized there was no use hanging on to that hate.”
“But… why… when?” she stuttered.
“About the time CiCi came into my life,” he admitted. “That kind of hate poisons relationships. And not just with the one you’re working to forgive.”
She looked confused and petulant and licked her lips. “But if you forgive me—why can’t we—why can’t we get back to where we were?”
“You’re equating forgiveness with a willingness to reconcile and be your husband again. For me, forgiveness isn’t a magical reset button for our marriage, a simple ticket back into my heart or my bed. It isn’t a surrender to someone else’s whims or demands. It’s a gift. And it’s the only one and the most important you’ll ever receive from me again.
“I can work with you and will always consider you my friend. Forgiveness will give us that, and I hope you can accept and be grateful for it. Because I can’t give you more. I can’t give you my heart again. I’m sorry.”
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume II, Books 4-6 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 2) Page 28