Life Shocks Romances Collection 4

by Jade Kerrion

  “I never told you what he said to me,” Nicole continued. “I thought he was going to curse me out. After all, I’d convinced you to get the restraining order.”

  “But only to force him into counseling.”

  “Well, he didn’t know that when he fired his gun at you and then turned it on himself.” Nicole drew a deep breath. “He said he was sorry.”

  Marie’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “He said he was sorry, and that I’d done the right thing in trying to protect you. His eyes…I’ll never forget them. He meant it, every word. His other issues got the better of him, but in his heart, you always mattered the most to him. Now, I’d be the first to say never go back to a man who beats a woman, but there’s a difference between a man who beats a woman because he’s an insecure power-mongering asshole versus a man who has legitimate issues and is trying to overcome them.”

  “Like Phil.”

  Nicole hummed her quiet agreement. “You asked me once, when he filed for divorce, if I thought Phil was a good man. I didn’t answer you then.”

  “You’re good at not doing that.” Marie couldn’t help the slightly grouchy tone.

  “I’m a lawyer. People tend to give more weight than they should to my answers, so I’m extremely careful with my opinions, but I’ll tell you what you already know. Phil’s a good man. He’s just trying to find his way back onto the straight path.”

  “Will he?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody does. If life offered certainties, lawyers wouldn’t have jobs. It’s your call. It sounds like the ball is in your court, after all. You need to do what’s best for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the end, your responsibility is to yourself. You can’t live Phil’s life for him. You can’t make his choices for him. You’re not responsible for what happens to him.”

  So much easier said than done. Love makes us responsible. Marie said goodbye to Nicole and disconnected the call before sliding the phone back into her handbag.

  Rio sat on the couch. His steady, knowing gaze was disconcerting.

  “I—” She drew a deep breath. “—am going to pack.”

  Marie had the satisfaction of seeing Rio’s eyes go wide with shock. “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m going to pack, and I’m going to find myself another stretch of beach not occupied by my ex-husband and his pregnant fiancée.”

  “Marie—”

  She held up her hand. “I’m responsible for my choices and the consequences. Phil’s responsible for his. Whatever’s happening between him and Lucy is his choice, but either way, he’s not going to get short-changed. He’s got the resources now.”

  “Like the pre-paid counseling and physical therapy sessions?”

  “Yes.” And perhaps a little bit more. She said nothing, though. Rio, she suspected, wouldn’t approve.

  In fact, he was already scowling at her. “You’re running away again? Didn’t we have this conversation a few days ago?”

  “Things have changed in those few days.”

  “How exactly?”

  “Lucy, for a start.”

  Rio dismissed the other woman with a wave of his hand. “This isn’t about Lucy.”

  “Phil has made it about Lucy. If there’s a child—”

  “You said if.”

  Marie pulled herself up short. She did say if. Did it mean that somewhere deep inside, she had doubts about Lucy’s facts? No. It’s not my job to figure out truth from lies. She swallowed hard. Whatever the facts were, they were Phil’s to handle. Her only responsibility was to do the right thing—for herself and for Phil. “Will you please call a cab for me? I’ll need to get to Miami International Airport.”

  Rio grunted. “I’ll take you there. Where are you going?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I’m sure there are lots of flights from Miami to an idyllic beach somewhere in the Caribbean. I’m determined to get my vacation, Rio.” She walked up to him. “But it needs to be a vacation, and right now, it’s not. I’m still trying to fix things that aren’t my responsibility to fix. It’s not a holiday, and I need it to be if I’m ever going to gain some perspective of this situation.”

  Rio sighed, but she could see in his eyes he finally understood. “Will you promise me that when you’re ready for your beach fling, you’ll call me instead of hooking up with a muscle-bound surfer dude?”

  Marie laughed. “You’ve got first dibs; I can promise you that.” She threw her arms around him. “You’re a good friend, Rio. Thank you.”

  As Rio had promised, he drove her into Miami and even followed her into the terminal, standing beside her as she puzzled through which exotic beach she wanted to visit next. He lived up to his reputation for being a fount of random and vast knowledge, and based on his recommendations, she picked St. Lucia. “Mountains, beaches, and incomparable views—all from the same window,” he had said.

  They had lunch at a café in the terminal, and then Rio walked her to the security gate. “You take care,” he said. His farewell kiss was a brotherly peck on her forehead.

  “I will.” Marie smiled. “And thank you. I owe you.”

  He waved her thanks away.

  “Can I get one more favor?” She dug an envelope out of her handbag. “Will you please give this to Phil?”

  “When?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How much of a vacation do you want before he comes after you?”

  Marie shook her head. “He won’t.”

  “Of course he will. He loves you.”

  “Trust me. He won’t. You can give it to him whenever you see him.” Marie glanced at the ever-lengthening line through security. “I’ve got to go. You’ll stay in touch, right?”

  “We’ll see.” Rio didn’t even smile, but he did wave.

  She noticed that he was still standing there when she made it through security. She threw him a final wave before he nodded and turned away.

  A tiny kernel of something that might have been regret lodged in her chest. If not for her unexpected encounter with Phil, her immediate connection and friendship with Rio might have grown into something more. I guess I’ll never know now.

  Phil’s morning had not started well. He awoke tired and in pain, his arms and legs quivering. A warm shower and some exercises would stabilize his limbs enough to start the yard work. He had to work on the electrical system too, but he would save it for when he was feeling steadier.

  It was going to be a rough day. By rights, he should have been scowling at the prospect of struggling through yet another day, but he could not work up enough indignation. Life was just what it was, and he would cope either way. He plodded through his morning routine, washing down bacon and eggs with two cups of black coffee, before realizing that his lack of indignation was fueled by emotional relief.

  Lucy was gone. She had stalked out of his cottage last night and had not returned. He had wondered then if he had made a mistake, if he would miss her, but in the morning, all he felt was relief. The slate was clean, as it should have been. He was not ready for a relationship, not with all the issues he was still working through, and not when he was still in love with Marie.

  Phil ground his teeth. Love didn’t matter. Love couldn’t change the facts. He had come a long way—mentally and emotionally—but he wasn’t ready for her.

  His early sessions with Dr. Biles had wrung him dry. The psychiatrist had insisted he relive his memories of the Afghanistan war—every bullet, every mortar blast, every IED. Phil had not even realized how much of it was stamped indelibly into his mind until he realized he could describe the beads of sweat running down the furrow between his buddy’s eyes, moments before he was shot through the head. He remembered how, on that day, the heat made the mountains in the distance waver like they were floating. The marines watched the horizon for insurgents, but for the most part, the villages, with all their hidden dangers, were miles behind. The blast that flipped the armored personnel carrier and spraye
d deadly shrapnel came out of nowhere.

  Phil crawled through the mangled, bloody aftermath, his head ringing and his vision wavering. A few of his buddies had been instantly killed; they were the lucky ones. Another had both legs blasted off above his knee. Phil grabbed bandages from the dead medic’s kit and tried to staunch the bleeding.

  Years later, he could still feel the stickiness of his buddy’s blood on his hands, still smell the unforgettable metallic stench of the twisted, shouldering steel all around him, still see death claim his buddies, one after another.

  He had been the only one to survive relatively unscathed. Half of his team had been killed in the attack, the others so grievously injured that they had to be evacuated to Germany for treatment. The ones who survived lost limbs, lost their vision, or lived with burn scars so horrific that their children, upon seeing them for the first time, turned pale.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Life was shit. War was shit. And death…it happens. It was the risk we all took.

  His sessions, recounting every detailed memory with Dr. Biles, and talking aloud to his buddies, the ones who died and the ones who survived, squeezed tears out of him. He told them how sorry he was he hadn’t been able to help more, he hadn’t been able to save more—that he had lived and they hadn’t. But war is shit, and death is random.

  For two months, Phil walked out of the sessions with Dr. Biles feeling worse than when he had entered, but slowly, inexplicably, the nightmares lessened, together with the guilt that had haunted him for years. It wasn’t my fault. I did all I could.

  But nothing Dr. Biles said or did could dispel the horror and guilt of what Phil had done to Marie. The war had triggered his PTSD, but he was responsible for what he did. Hitting Marie; aiming the gun at her; pulling the trigger—none of that was forgivable because none of it had to happen. It was his fault. No amount of rationalization or platitudes could change the facts. He was too screwed-up for Marie, and there was no way in hell he would take that risk with her again. She meant too much—everything—to him.

  The ache of knowing he didn’t deserve her and couldn’t have her soured in the pit of his stomach. His troubled thoughts dogged him all morning. The physical labor passed in a blur as he lost track of time.

  Phil was mulching the fuchsia trees near the main building, slightly past noon, when Lucy walked up to him, wearing a smirk. “She’s gone.”

  “Who?”

  “Your precious Marie.”

  Phil shot to his feet. “What?”

  “She checked out an hour ago. Rio took her to the airport.”

  His heart stuttered. “Why would she leave?” The suddenly smug expression on Lucy’s face rushed so much anger into his brain that his vision blacked out for an instant. When his eyes cleared again, he found himself right in front of Lucy. “What did you say to her?”

  Lucy’s eyes were wide, her face ashen.

  Only then did Phil realize that he had seized her T-shirt in one fist. His other hand was wrapped around her throat.

  What am I doing?

  Phil released his grip on Lucy and stepped back, his hands trembling. “What did you say to her?” His voice shook from his attempts to control himself, to keep from shouting, to keep from grabbing and shaking the truth out of her.

  Lucy stared at him, as if immobilized, as if she suddenly realized the monster he was. Terror and guilt intermingled on her face. Whatever Lucy had said or done to Marie, she was genuinely terrified that he would hurt her for it.

  “What did you say to my wife?” he roared.

  Lucy turned and fled into the safety of the resort’s main building. His immediate instinct was to run after her, but he could almost hear Dr. Biles’s voice. “Rule yourself. What you do when no one’s watching matters more than what you do when people are.”

  His hands clenched and flexed as he forced his shoulders back from the defensive hunch they curled into when he was about to strike out. Breathe. Inhale for three. Exhale for six. To hell with the physical therapy session he had scheduled. He needed to talk to Dr. Biles. He reached for his phone and called his physical therapist. “Sorry, I have to cancel. I need to talk to my shrink more than I need to fix my body, and I can’t afford both right now.”

  “Oh, I understand, but your account is pre-paid. If you can actually make that appointment, it’s not as if you’ll have to worry about the cost for a while.”

  What the—? Phil shook his head, trying to clear it. What had he just heard? “I don’t understand. What do you mean pre-paid?”

  “Ms. Marie Vargas came in early this morning and wrote out a check to cover a hundred sessions. At the rate you use those sessions, you’re good for almost two years.”

  “But why would—?” Marie?

  “So, should I cancel your appointment or keep it?”

  “Just…just keep it.” He stammered out before hanging up. Marie had paid for his sessions, but why would she—? He called Dr. Biles’s clinic and received an equally startling revelation. Marie had paid for a hundred counseling sessions too. His brain fizzled over the math. It had to be at least twenty thousand, thirty thousand. Too many damn zeroes.

  Why?

  The door of Marie’s cottage was open. Housekeeping was preparing it for the next guest. The ladies at the front desk confirmed that Marie had checked out and hadn’t even argued about her nonrefundable deposit.

  Only one man had answers.

  Rio, however, did not return to his cottage until the sun was setting. Phil was waiting on Rio’s patio, exhausted after a full day of pounding away at his work in an attempt to calm his thoughts. “Where is she?” he asked as Rio walked up.

  “St. Lucia.” Rio unlocked the door of his cottage. “Want a beer?”

  The interior was cool and welcoming. Rio ducked his head into his fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer, tossing one to Phil.

  “Where were you?” Phil asked.

  “It’s an eight-hour round trip to Miami International Airport,” Rio said as lightly as he might have mentioned hanging out at the local bar. He slouched down on the couch. “She was upset. I didn’t want her to head off alone.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “She said she had come for a vacation. She didn’t want to be around her ex-husband and his pregnant fiancée.”

  Phil’s jaw dropped. “His what?”

  “Pregnant fiancée.”

  “Lucy said that to her?”

  “Oh, no. Lucy was much more subtle, pretending to talk on the phone, her back to us as Marie and I approached.”

  “Pretending?”

  “Of course pretending. She would have seen our reflection in the glass doors as we came up the garden path. Besides, her voice was pitched much too loudly to be realistic. It was, frankly, a terrible act, but Marie was too distraught to do more than hear the words.”

  “Damn it!” Phil slammed the bottle down on the side table. He shot to his feet. “I’m going to…” He swung around, sensing Rio’s cool gaze on him, and with effort, steadied himself. “Lucy and I argued last night. She insisted we had something more. I told her we didn’t.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “But Marie—” His heart thudded. “Damn it.”

  Rio tugged an envelope out of his pocket. “She wanted me to give this to you.”

  His hands fumbled as he tugged out the letter she had left for him. A smaller piece of paper slipped out from between the folded sheet and drifted to the floor.

  Hey, Phil,

  I’m glad you’re getting better. I’m so proud of you and how hard you’re trying. Today, I met Dr. Biles, and I spoke to my lawyer and friend, Nicole, and they both said something that made a lot of sense to me. I can only be responsible for my choices and my actions, and it’s my responsibility to do the right thing for me.

  The right thing for me is to give you what you deserve—what is rightly yours. The lottery ticket I bought on the day we divorced was ours. The lottery win was ours. I did what we alwa
ys did to commemorate a special occasion. I bought a ticket with our special dates, and this time, we got lucky. The money will give us the fresh start we both need and deserve.

  I don’t know what the future holds for either of us, but whether it’s together or apart, it will be better than the past, because we’ll make it so. Hang in there. I will, too.

  Forever, Marie.

  Phil reread the letter as Rio picked up the small piece of paper that had fallen and handed it to him. It was a check for $350,000—half of Marie’s lottery winnings. Phil shook his head. He could not reach for it. “I don’t want it,” he breathed.

  “You knew she’d won the lottery.”

  “Of course. They didn’t announce the winner’s name—she had collected her winnings through her lawyer’s office—but I knew when I saw the numbers. She had picked the date of our first kiss and our wedding date.”

  “And you knew she must have bought the ticket before you were officially divorced.”

  “Of course I did. I bought a ticket, too, the same day she did, for the same lottery.”

  Rio set the check on the table in front of him. “You must have at least wondered if the money was partly yours. Why didn’t you ask for it?”

  “Because she deserved it, all of it.” Phil dragged his unsteady hand through his hair. “All the shit she put up with after the war. The shooting brought it all to a head, but I was an asshole long before that. I just didn’t know how to cope with all the—” He clenched his hair. “—stuff in my head. I still don’t. Some days, I have it together. Others…I almost hit Lucy today.”

  “But you didn’t. Fortunately, the security camera captured the encounter.”

  “What?”

  “The other reason I was delayed was because I stopped by the manager’s office and told her of Marie’s and my encounter with Lucy. Lucy, apparently, had beaten me to it and was reciting a sob story about how you attacked her. The videos, however, told a different story, and combined with what I had to say, Lucy’s out there looking for a new job.”

  “The manager fired her? I didn’t think the manager cared that much about me.”