Life Shocks Romances Collection 4

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Life Shocks Romances Collection 4 Page 25

by Jade Kerrion


  He had caught a glimpse of the pain of rejection in her eyes, but he set his teeth. Better for her to have pain in her eyes than pain anywhere else, or worse, no pain at all—for it would mean she were dead. Better to walk away, better to divorce, better to let her go than to land up at a worse end.

  Except that she was here—right now, in front of him.

  And she no longer wore her wedding ring.

  He drew a sharp breath. That hurt. How could it? Why would it? He had taken off his ring too. Of course she would remove hers.

  Damn it. Phil rubbed his fist over his forehead. Why couldn’t he think straight? How was he supposed to make anything of the jumble of his thoughts?

  Marie broke the silence first. “How long have you been working here?”

  “Eight…nine months.”

  “Oh.”

  Just that one sound, infused with bewildered pain, cracked his heart. Shit. Why couldn’t he get it right even when it was simple dates and facts?

  “Why?” Marie’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing. “Why here? Why in this place where I always wanted to go and where you always refused to take me?” She stalked forward, apparently too angry to be afraid. “And you’re here with—” Her hands clenched into fists. “We’re divorced. It doesn’t matter who you’re here with.”

  “Damn right,” he snapped back. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” Phil stiffened. Was the restraining order issued more than a year ago in New York still in effect here in Florida? He wasn’t supposed to come within twenty feet of her.

  Would he have to call his lawyer to find out, and pay a couple of hundred bucks for the privilege of an answer?

  He couldn’t afford it. Heck, even with his free room at the resort as part of his salary for being the maintenance guy, he was barely making his alimony payments.

  Just stay away. It was the right answer, with or without a restraining order.

  Marie stared at Phil’s back as he strode out of her cottage. He did not even close the door behind him. “Wait!” she shouted, but he did not stop. He headed down a side path and quickly vanished, swallowed by the darkness.

  Wait…for what? What would she have said if he had stopped, if he had turned around, if he had listened?

  The door of a nearby cottage opened, and Marie recognized Rio’s lean, muscular silhouette. He walked across the small clearing. “I heard you call out. Are you all right?” He grasped her shoulders lightly. His voice tightened with concern. “You’re shaking. Let’s get you inside.”

  “I’m…fine,” Marie stammered, but Rio helped her to a chair and did not leave her side until she was safely ensconced in a seat.

  “I’ll make you some tea, or do you want something else?” Rio asked.

  She managed a shaky smile. “Tea will be fine.”

  For several moments, the only sounds came from the kitchen—the kettle whistling and the trickle of hot water into sturdy ceramic cups. The homey sounds anchored her. She didn’t have to be afraid of all men. The meal with Rio had proved that she didn’t need to measure her every word for fear of him losing his temper.

  She shouldn’t have to be afraid of Phil living mere minutes from her.

  Marie’s smile trembled on her lips as Rio sat across from her and set two mugs of tea on the table.

  “The water was boiling a second ago. I wouldn’t pick that cup up until your hands are steadier.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. His brown eyes narrowed. “You’re still pale. What happened?”

  “My husband…ex-husband’s here.”

  Rio stiffened. “Where?”

  “Phil.”

  His eyes widened. “Phil? The Phil who helps keep the place going?”

  “You know Phil?”

  “Of course I know Phil. I practically live here year-round. Phil started working here about nine months ago. He started out with the yard work, but now he does all kinds of basic maintenance. He’s also the unofficial night staff, since he lives on the grounds, down that way.” He nudged his head in the direction Phil had walked. “He’s your husband?”

  “Ex-husband. We divorced nine months ago.”

  “But I thought you said he didn’t like Key West.”

  “He didn’t. He wouldn’t take me here.” Marie’s voice rose on a hysterical laugh. “I should have known. It wasn’t the place. It was me he didn’t want to take here. He knew how much I loved Key West, how much I wanted to come. He’d visit…even live here…just not with me.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “He told me to stay out of his way.”

  “I bet seeing you was a shock to him too.”

  Marie’s head snapped up. Rio’s guarded tone hinted at something deeper. “Why are you…?” She caught herself and drew a deep breath. “I came here because I was so sure it was the one place he would never be. This was supposed to be my starting over holiday. It’s a sign.”

  “A sign?”

  “That I’m not supposed to be here. That I’m not supposed to be starting over. That I’m—”

  “Whoa.” Rio held up his hands like a stableman trying to calm a skittish foal. “As far as I can tell, this sign isn’t written in English or any language I understand.”

  She stared at him, flustered. “You’re just like Phil—pooh-poohing all the clues the universe sends your way to usher you in the correct direction. Women are more intuitive. We get it.” She fisted her hands to stop them from shaking. “My reservation’s only for a month. If I left early, I could probably get a portion of my money back.”

  Rio’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re running away? That’s not like you.”

  “You’ve known me for four hours. Who are you to say what is or isn’t like me?”

  “To begin with, the snap in your voice and the gleam in your eyes.” He shrugged. “I’m a writer. People watching is my hobby and my specialty. Your words don’t match your body language.”

  Didn’t it? Marie stared down at her trembling hands. She was afraid of Phil, wasn’t she?

  She drew a sharp breath. She had stalked up to Phil, not cowered from him. She had even shouted at him. She had yelled at him to wait.

  Those were not the actions of a frightened woman.

  “I’m angry,” Marie murmured, her voice quiet as her mind tried to wrap around a new reality. She sat up straight. “I’m angry.”

  Rio relaxed in his seat, in deliberate contrast to her rising temper.

  Marie shot to her feet and paced the living room. “He knew I loved it here. How dare he come here without me?” She whirled and glared at Rio. “Do you know—it’s like a slap in the face. No, it’s worse. The only thing that hurt less was when he shot me.”

  “Wait—he what?”

  “He shot at me, missed, and then turned the gun on himself. He didn’t quite miss, but he didn’t do a great job aiming either. He ended up with a new scar.”

  Rio was staring at her, his eyes wide. He said slowly, “I didn’t realize that.”

  “After that, he shut me out completely. He refused to talk to me when I tried to get us into marriage counseling. Instead, he filed for divorce. He didn’t even bother to debate or contest anything because it would obviously mean having to speak to me.” Her chest heaved with pain so sharp that she had to press her hand against it. Marie slump into a chair. “Getting shot was frightening, but in the end, what hurt the most was when he shut me out. He didn’t even try. He didn’t want to save the marriage. In the end, he didn’t want me.”

  “And you wanted him, even after he shot you?”

  “He didn’t mean it.”

  Rio shook his head.

  “You probably think I’m an abused wife, crawling back to my abuser, but it wasn’t quite like that. Phil wasn’t angry or mean or vicious until he came back from the war. The attack that killed his buddies changed him. He had meds to help with the nightmares, but they were rough on his stomach. He’d take them and then spend the rest of the night puking them u
p, so he stopped. That’s when he started to hit me. For a while, I took it, and then I realized it wasn’t going to change. He wasn’t going to change; I had to do it for the both of us. I took out a restraining order. It was supposed to be the first step in a plan for us to ease back into being together again. I was on the phone, trying to schedule an appointment with a marriage counselor when he came back to the apartment and pounded on the door, trying to get in. He managed to break through part of it, and he had his gun.” Her voice wobbled and trailed into silence.

  For several moments, the only thing she could feel was the crushing weight upon her chest. “I saw it in his eyes the moment he pulled the trigger. Shock. Horror. Then he turned the gun on himself. I think it was the only way he could deal with what he had done.”

  “It doesn’t excuse shooting at you.”

  “No, but he wasn’t quite right in the head either, and the judge realized it. Some people were angry when Phil got off with the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, but prison wouldn’t have helped him. It would have made him worse. What he needed was help.” Marie swallowed through the lump in her throat. “He just wouldn’t accept mine.”

  “And now he’s here.”

  Marie shook her head. “I’m not going to let him ruin my vacation or chase me away. I’ve wanted to come to Key West for the longest time, and he knew it. Mean and spiteful didn’t use to be his style, but how would I know?” Bitterness twisted her voice. “Maybe I don’t know him anymore.”

  Rio did not leave Marie’s cottage until nearly an hour later. With effort, she had tried to talk of different things, and to distract her, he was happy to play along, describing some of the best off-the-beaten-track places in the Florida Keys. He did not try to take his leave until she appeared emotionally settled again after two rounds of hot chamomile tea.

  The tea however—or something else—had wreaked havoc on him. His head swirled with questions that only had partial answers. He strode through the darkness, heading down the familiar path back to his cottage, but the gleam of light through the trees caught his attention.

  The light was on in Phil’s cottage.

  Not my business.

  Then again, Phil had become a good friend—a constant in a place where other guests whirled in and out of Rio’s life.

  Rio shoved his hands into his pockets. He was also probably the only person with the advantage of having a clear head, an uncommitted heart, and the ability to see it from both points of view.

  He set his jaw. The muscles in his cheek ticked in sympathy. Rio walked along the well-maintained stone path that led to Phil’s cottage, tucked among a copse of trees on the far back corner of the several-acre property. He knocked on the door until it opened.

  Phil stared at him, his face expressionless, his eyes ablaze with pain. He held an open bottle of beer in his hand.

  Rio’s mouth tugged into a half-grin. “You got any more of that to share?”

  Phil scowled, but he did not slam the door in Rio’s face. Instead, he turned away, leaving Rio to follow.

  Phil’s cottage had the same layout as the other guest cottages, but its furnishings were dated, leftover from a recent refresh of the resort décor, although still in great shape. The cottage, however, was impersonal, devoid of photographs or other memorabilia. He’s just existing, Rio thought. Not living.

  Because he had been a visitor to Phil’s cottage often enough, Rio went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. It might have been odd to find alcohol in the fridge of someone who regularly attended AA meetings, except Rio knew Phil wasn’t an alcoholic. His friend went for the emotional support of others who, like him, were trying to get their lives back on track.

  Rio drew a deep breath. After all, it was the only reason he was here. He knew how hard Phil had been working to get his life on track. He just hadn’t realized all the details Phil had left out.

  And Marie…beautiful, loving, feisty, and vulnerable. Go figure. The one girl who snags my attention after all this time is my buddy’s girl.

  Except that she wasn’t Phil’s girl. They were divorced.

  And obviously still in love with each other.

  There’s no damn way for me to win this. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

  Years of experience smoothed the frown from Rio’s face as he returned to the living room and slouched in the armchair across from Phil. “Where’s Lucy?”

  “Late-night check-in. Family’s luggage got delayed. She’s sorting them out now.”

  “So…Marie…your wife, huh?”

  “Ex-wife. You met her?”

  “Earlier this evening. We had dinner together.” Rio did not miss the way Phil’s eyes narrowed. If Phil decided to get violent, Rio did not doubt his ability to handle Phil, but still… He swallowed a grunt of annoyance. Shit. This peacemaking, matchmaking job is for chubby winged cherubs, not jaded federal agents who masquerade as writers. “We had dinner at the crab shack,” Rio continued in a conversational tone. “I didn’t kiss her, though I thought about it.” He definitely didn’t miss the way Phil’s hand curled into a fist before slowly relaxing. “All this time you’ve spoken about her—I never thought to ask for her name, or a picture.”

  “Because she isn’t in the picture.”

  “No, she’s about two hundred yards away.”

  “You were with her?”

  “I heard her shouting for someone to wait. I saw her at her doorway, shaking. At first, I thought it was shock or fear. Turns out, she was shaking from anger.”

  Phil’s mouth twitched. “Could never keep her down for long.”

  Rio didn’t miss the note of pride in Phil’s gruff voice.

  “She wanted to pack,” Rio continued. “Dash out the door, to heck with her deposit.”

  Indecision flicked in Phil’s eyes. After a long moment, he said, “She should. Best thing all around.”

  “Running away is not quite her style, is it?”

  Phil shook his head. “I filed for divorce. Did she tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “She took out the restraining order, but it was a bargaining chip to get me to a marriage counselor. Of course, it went to hell in a single moment. I shot her.”

  “And missed.”

  “Not the point.” Phil grimaced. “I shot her.” He closed his hands back into fists, but could not stop them from trembling. “I loved her more than anything, and I shot her. I realized then, too late, how screwed up I was.”

  “And shooting yourself was the answer?”

  Phil chuckled, but the sound lacked humor. “If I had succeeded, she’d receive my VA benefits.”

  “It’s not much of a substitute for you.”

  “She didn’t deserve me—not the me I had become—but she still wouldn’t leave. She wanted marriage counseling, as if it would change anything. I filed for divorce instead.” He shook his head, his gaze fixed on the carpet. “It’s better this way. Safer.”

  Rio shrugged. “Love’s not safe.”

  “She doesn’t love me.”

  “If you say so.”

  Phil shot to his feet and paced the short breadth of the living room. “She can’t.”

  “All right.”

  “She’d be crazy to keep coming back. We’re divorced. Anyway, I don’t want her back—”

  “Why did you come here?”

  Phil spun to face Rio. “What?”

  “You don’t like the beach. Why did you flee to Key West after your divorce to lick your wounds?”

  Phil’s shoulders tensed, his bicep muscles bunching. Rio did not alter his insouciant position on the couch, but he was intently aware of the possible threat. Come on, Phil. Get a grip. Did any of Dr. Biles’s counseling help? I need to know Marie’s safe with you.

  “You came here because you knew something of her spirit was in this place. It was where she had always wanted to be,” Rio continued in a mocking tone that he knew would grate on Phil’s nerves. “Are you any warmer cozying up to the fading dream
of her, or are you going to man up to the fact that the woman you’ve loved for so long is literally two hundred feet away?”

  “She’s better off without me!”

  Rio nodded. “She’s better off without the bastard who shot her, but who are you now, Phil?”

  “I still have nightmares.”

  “They’ll never go away,” Rio spoke. He knew, all too well, from personal experience. “When was the last time you started a fight?”

  Phil’s face tightened. “Just last week. You were there. Those four bikers were hassling Cheryl down at the bar.”

  Indeed, he had. Phil had been more than a little tipsy after a rough week at work, and when the four leather-clad bikers gave Cheryl, the server, a hard time, Phil stood up first. He had strode over to the men and told them to leave. One of the bikers told Phil to get his ugly mug out of their faces, but Phil hadn’t backed down.

  Rio had watched in silence, close enough to help if needed, but he had wanted to see how it would play out.

  The bikers struck first, one of them slugging his fist into Phil’s jaw so hard that it snapped Phil’s head back. Phil recovered quickly and lunged at the man’s midsection, dragging him down to the floor.

  In the background, Tom Jackson, the owner of Spotlights, flapped his hands in distress and screeched at the brawling men. Chairs toppled, and then a table, spilling several mugs of beer.

  Now, that was a waste of good beer. Stifling both a smile and a sigh, Rio got up and pulled Phil off the biker. Phil struggled for a moment, but when their eyes met, Phil sucked in a deep breath. The fire didn’t fade out of his eyes; he didn’t visibly relax; but he didn’t strike out blindly at Rio either. He turned to glare at the bikers. “Get your asses out of here.”

  “Or what?” One of the men sneered.

  Rio cut in. “I’ll hold him for as long as I can. You guys start running. You’ll need the head start.”

 

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