That stiffens my back. “I don’t owe you an explanation. You think because we had sex, you have some sort of claim over me now? That you can call the shots in my life?”
“Someone needs to because you hadn’t made very good choices before you got to Juniper Springs.”
His words slap me in the face, but I hide the recoil. “That’s what drew you to me, isn’t it? You thought I was a lost lamb and needed protection. The sex was just a bonus.” I see the sign for Juniper Springs. Only five more miles. And I think about staying quiet. We’ve both already said too much, but I’m hurt. Ripped apart by his words, and he hasn’t flinched at anything I’ve said.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be happier at Francine’s tonight. Wouldn’t want you to think I was after another bonus.”
By the time we arrive, the air inside the truck is so thick with tension I need oxygen. I don’t speak to him when I climb out, and he only waits long enough for me to slam the passenger door before roaring off.
I swipe away the tears making tracks down my face as the taillights disappear.
Chapter Seventeen
My skin is icy, and even the warm fire flickering in Francine’s fireplace isn’t taking off the chill. I wrap my arms around my body and pace.
Francine brings a tray of tea out from the kitchen and sets it on the coffee table. “It’ll be all right, Emily. When Adam gets in a snit, he needs time to cool down.”
“You weren’t in the truck, Francine. We said some things…” I don’t finish. There’s no use in rehashing the verbal swords we’d drawn.
She sighs and plops down on the sofa. “I didn’t say he couldn’t be an ass. All men can, but both of you just went through hell. We all did. Maybe some breathing room might be a good thing.”
“He’s angry because I mentioned going to Mark’s funeral.”
Her face screws up like she’d rather eat a live snake. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”
“Adam thinks it’s out of guilt.”
“And by not answering my question, you’re agreeing with him.” She strums her fingers on the table. “Guilt can be a powerful motivator, Emily, but you have to decide if you’ve given Mark enough of your life.”
“He’s dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
“No, but he can certainly hurt your relationship with Adam.”
My frozen legs carry me to the window, and I move the curtain aside to look out into the darkness. “I don’t think we have a relationship.”
“Bullshit.” She takes a sip of the tea I didn’t see her pour. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. There’s more there than just sex no matter what you told him.”
I whirl around to look at her. “How did you know I told him that?”
Trying to look innocent, she shrugs. “The radio might have possibly been on.”
“Francine! You heard everything?” My cheeks heat at the thought.
Her nose buried in the mug, she nods. “If it helps, I was yelling at you both to be quiet.” She continues before I can respond. “And there’s something my momma always told me and Art. If you’re embarrassed for folks to know what you’ve said in private, then you shouldn’t have said it to begin with.”
I join her on the sofa, muscles so tight it hurts to sit. “I was angry. We both were.”
“Good thing you recognize that. Now shouldn’t you be telling this to Adam?”
“Being angry doesn’t negate what I said, Francine. I came into this town scared and unsure, but I got my feet back under me here. I don’t want to go back to that girl I was when I arrived. Maybe that’s who Adam wants, though, someone he can protect and keep close to him like a wounded bird.”
Francine snorts and thunks her mug down. “Honey, since you and Adam got together, Mark has been dangling over your heads like a worm on a hook. That danger is out of the way, but if his warning is to be believed, more is coming. And time might not be on your side. So don’t waste minutes or hours bitching about who thinks what or who feels this and that. Just talk it out. I mean, if you care about him at all.” She adds the last sentence with a sly note in her voice.
“He and I haven’t done a lot of talking, at least not about anything that really matters. Most of our conversations were about Mark. Now that he’s gone…”
“You’re scared you may not have anything in common with him or anything to keep the two of you together.”
I sigh, no longer wondering how she knows me so well. It’s like everyone in this town has some kind of sixth sense about me. “I don’t think he trusts my judgment.”
In all honesty, he’s got no reason to trust me. My thoughts skid to a halt. But it wasn’t like he’s given me his backstory, either. Trust runs both ways. I wonder if anyone’s ever told him that.
Anger punches me in the stomach, and I’m on my feet and at the door in a second. “You know what, his judgment isn’t always perfect, either, and I’m really tired of men accusing me of things I haven’t done or felt or trying to tell me what to do. If I want to go to Mark’s funeral, Adam is just going to have to deal with it because no one is going to live my life but me.” I’m halfway across the yard before Francine calls my name again. When I turn around, she’s pointing to the diner.
“Your car’s parked in the front. Adam put gas in it the next morning after you came to town.”
That stops me. I look from her to the back door of the diner. “Why would he do that?”
“I guess he figured you might want options.”
“He never told me.”
“Probably never came up seeing as how close the two of you have been getting.”
I don’t know what else to say so I give her a nod and take off. So he did a good deed. That isn’t going to stop me from giving him a piece of my mind.
The Volvo sputters to life, emits a series of guttural coughs, and finally settles into a rhythmic hum. I pat the dashboard. “There’s a good girl.” Backing out of the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of Art standing by the plate glass front door of the diner. He tips two fingers to his head as I step on the gas.
With only a couple of mistakes, I manage to find my way to Adam’s house. It doesn’t look nearly as inviting as it did the first time I came. The porch light isn’t on, and the curtains are drawn, a sure sign Adam isn’t interested in visitors. I ignore the warning. Running on pure fury, I stomp up the steps and bang on the front door loudly enough to wake the neighbors from five miles away.
Adam yanks open the door. His uniform shirt is out of his pants and unbuttoned, and he’s holding a bottle of beer in his right hand. The screen door rests against the palm of his left. “I don’t think this is a good idea right now, Emily.”
Anger leapfrogs over good sense, and I pull the door wider. “I could give a rat’s ass what you think, and unless you want everyone and his brother to hear this conversation, you’ll close the door.”
He does, turning to face me with a slow, deliberate move. Letting me know he’s not in any hurry to hear what I have to say.
“You know, I’m really tired of men treating me like I don’t know what’s best for my life. I thought you were different, Adam, that you would trust me to make my own decisions, to be an adult.” I hold up one finger in case he’s thinking it’s his turn to talk. “Maybe I do want to go to Mark’s funeral out of guilt, but it is my choice to make whether you like it or not. I can’t be a scared puppet anymore. Whatever Mark warned me about might be right around the corner, or he could have been hallucinating the last few seconds of his life. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is I intend to be prepared this time, and I don’t need a man to protect me, to keep me from making wrong decisions, or to help me know right from wrong.”
Adam takes a swig of beer, tipping it back so I can see the long column of his throat. So I can remember tasting the saltiness of his skin in the notch where his pulse tapped against my lips. My resolve falters, but when he looks at me, without a trace of warmth, it’s back.
&
nbsp; “If you were only attracted to me because of how scared I was, I’m sorry. But I’m not that same woman. And I’ll never be her again.”
He slams the bottle down on the countertop behind him. “I’m not attracted to fear, Emily. I wanted you because of you.”
The past tense stings. “Wanted? Like this is over and done with?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“We talked about giving a relationship a try, but if you’ve changed your mind, just tell me. You either want me the way I am, or I’ll walk away. I’m not standing here telling you it’ll be easy, but I won’t live under any man’s thumb again.”
“You think I’m trying to control you?” Storm clouds gather in his eyes.
“I think you think you know what’s best for me. But just because I made a few mistakes doesn’t mean I’m not fully capable of living my own life. I—”
“Emily, the thought of you going back to Broomtown scared me, and when you talked about Mark’s funeral, I couldn’t think straight. You don’t belong in that town, and if you think that means I’m trying to control your life, I’m sorry. But I won’t lie to you.”
My shaky fingers tangle in my hair. “There’s a difference between the truth and an ultimatum, Adam.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I felt like you were asking me to make a choice.” I slowly approach the sofa and sit on the edge while my insides work themselves into a knot. “I’ve never been in a relationship where one person wasn’t in control, but I don’t want things to be like that between us.”
Adam sits beside me. “Neither do I, but I’m not going to stop trying to protect you, and not because it’s my job.”
I scoot back against the couch and tuck a pillow behind my back for support. “Protecting me doesn’t mean you have to control my movements or my choices.”
He scowls at me. “I thought we just covered that.”
“I’m just letting you know I’m going to Mark’s funeral.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.” Adam reaches over to touch me, but I pull my knee back. He withdraws his hand and sighs. “Emily, I’m sorry. The things I said in the truck…I can only blame it on fear and exhaustion, but I won’t deny I don’t like the idea of you going back there. That shooter is still on the loose, and we don’t know who the target is.”
“It can’t be me. As far as I know, I was only on Mark and Ike’s shit list.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. There is such a thing as collateral damage.” He curls his fingers into his palms. “I wish you’d reconsider at least until after this son-of-a-bitch is caught.”
“By the time that happens, Mark will be buried. I need to close the doors on my life there. Get my things. Nothing besides my clothes really belongs to me, but there are a few pictures, things like that I want.”
He pinches his nose. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“To Mark’s funeral?”
“I didn’t say I was happy about it.”
I study him for a moment, that hard set of his jaw, the cool gaze, and I read more than he’s telling me. “Has the state police given you information?”
“When do you think they’ll have his funeral?”
My irritation climbing, I get to my feet. “Why won’t you tell me anything? It’s always smoke and mirrors with you.”
His jaw clenches. “Because anything the state police told me is police business. I don’t make a habit of sharing that outside the station.”
“You don’t make a habit of sharing anything, and that’s the problem. I know nothing about you, except for the precious little you’ve told me. My life is on display for you. Everything is now an open book, and what I know about you I’ve learned from other people for the most part. You’re willing to go to extremes to help me, but you’re not opening up to me about anything. And I think my problems have made it easy for you. Something to focus on so that I won’t ask you questions. It’s a perfect way to keep your secrets close to your chest.”
He stands, folds his arms over his chest. “What questions? What secrets? If you want to know something, just ask.”
It can’t be that simple. No one is an open book, but he opened the door. So I’m walking through. “Okay. Fine. Who paid for my lawyer?”
His expression changes, seguing to a blandness that’s supposed to convince me he’s as clueless as I am. “Why is that even important right now?”
“Because I think you paid for him.”
“Francine has a big mouth.”
“Francine didn’t tell me about that, but she did mention your ex-wife. You can know about my ex-boyfriend, but I can’t know about her? I asked you if you’d been married, and the way you danced around it, I believed you hadn’t. But you lied.” The second the words are out, the pain on his face rips right through me. “Adam. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you shouldn’t have, but since you’re so curious, here’s the scoop. Kathleen left me because she thought I was going to choose a different career path, one that guaranteed I’d make a hell of a lot of money. She had plans to get plastic surgery to kick-start a modeling career. When she couldn’t convince me not to become a cop, she walked. Now, is that a story you think I’d want to share?”
Deflated, I sink back down onto the sofa. “No.” I want to rewind back to the point before I mentioned Kathleen. Before I lashed out at him for secrets that were none of my business, secrets that were his to keep. In the long run, his former marriage didn’t matter. And it shouldn’t come between us.
Honestly, I’d been searching for something, anything to strike back at him because he’d hurt me. And I’d sworn I’d never let another man hurt me again after Mark had left his brand on me. But I’d taken it too far. Crossed a line. What he’d known about me he’d learned through necessity. I didn’t need to know about his ex-wife. At least not yet.
Without saying another word, I get to my feet again and walk to the front door. I pause long enough to give him a chance to say something else. Ask me to stay. Anything. But he remains silent. So I leave.
Chapter Eighteen
“Men are dicks.” Francine makes this proclamation while pouring me a glass of wine. “No matter how much they try to act differently, it never works. The penis in them always comes out.”
My fingers curl around the stem of the glass she hands me, but I only swirl the red liquid instead of drinking it. “I think we got too close too fast.”
She snorts. “The two of you have a connection. That’s hard to fake.” Her gaze centers on the door as though by sheer force she can will Adam to knock. “And the next time I see Adam Madison, I’m going to kick his ass no matter if he’s wearing his uniform or not.”
“Francine.” Though I use my softest voice, I know it’s not going to calm her down. She’s riled because I’m hurt, but it’s not solely Adam’s fault I am. “This isn’t just his fault, you know.” I bring the glass to my lips and taste the Cabaret with a wrinkle of my nose. “This tastes like what I imagine transmission fluid would.”
“Really? You don’t like red wine?” Her feet are already up on the sofa, and she’s comfy which tells me if I want a different wine, I’ll have to get it myself.
“I like the kind Adam has.”
“Honey, you like just about anything that man has. Except for his attitude right now.” Another glance wings its way to the door. “I have half a mind to drive over there tonight.”
I’m already in the kitchen popping the cork on a bottle of white wine I discovered at the back of the refrigerator. “It won’t do any good, and besides that, this is between me and Adam.” If there was still a me and Adam.
How could we be a couple when we’ve been together barely a week? There’s nothing to hold us together. All we had was sex, and as good as it was, it wouldn’t help us survive the lies and angry words if we weren’t willing to meet in the middle. But we did want more, didn’t we? What we have together is good. Adam has to know that
, too. And I’m not ready to give up on us.
Tires roll on the gravel outside Francine’s house just as I make it back to the sofa. She leaps to her feet with more speed than I’ve ever seen her use and points toward the spot I’d vacated. “You sit. If this is Adam, I’ve got first crack at him.”
My heart is rapping so fast against my ribcage I didn’t hear a word she said. I know it’s Adam before he even bangs his fist against the door. Why is he here?
Francine is less than welcoming when she opens the front door. Her arms are akimbo which allows me to see a dark pullover shirt atop worn jeans. I recognize Adam’s body, but I force myself to remain seated. “Yes?” Francine’s voice is slightly warmer than an icicle.
“You going to let me in?” Impatient and forceful, Adam yanks the screen door open, but she stands her ground, blocking his path.
“I don’t know. Are you going to stop being an asshole?”
He looks over the top of her head, and our gazes connect. The anger from before has left his face. “I want to talk to you.” It’s clear the comment is directed at me.
“Well maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Francine, it’s okay.”
She opens the door and glares at Adam as he walks past her. His hands jerk through his hair, and for a moment, in the face of his distress, I have to hear what he has to say. It’s possible I’m fooling myself, but I want to believe he’s hurting as much as I am. But wanting something doesn’t make it real.
“Can we talk?” Adam crams his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and for the first time since we met, he doesn’t seem so sure of himself.
“Francine, could you give us a minute, please?”
“How did I know you were going to ask me that?” She snags her wine glass and trots toward the hall. “Just remember I’ll be right in here if you need me.”
Adam whirls around. “Will you knock it off? I’m not going to hurt her.”
“You mean any more than you already have?” She returns his heated gaze. “And just so you know, I told Emily about Kathleen because I thought you would have told her. I didn’t expect your divorce would be a secret. It’s a matter of public record anyway if she wanted to do some poking around herself.”
Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Page 19