by Addison Cole
“Babe, calm down.”
“Didn’t you ever take Dating 101? You never tell a woman to calm down. I’m done, Connor. I’ve wasted enough breath on you. Please don’t contact me again.” She ended the call with a shaking hand. Clapping noises came from behind her, and she spun around, ready to tell someone off. Her eldest brother, Treat, filled the doorframe, dressed in a dark suit and tie, his thick black hair perfectly coiffed and a proud smile on his lips.
“Bravo.” Treat wrapped his arms around Savannah. At six foot six, he towered over her.
She hugged him halfheartedly and stepped away, still agitated from talking to Connor. “What are you doing here?”
“Business meeting. I’m flying back home at six.” Treat and his wife, Max, lived in Weston on the property adjacent to their father’s.
“I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Dad said you were a little miffed at me.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure I want to be on the other end of your wrath after witnessing you taking down Connor Dean. Be gentle.”
She pushed him playfully as he lowered himself into a chair. “You checked up on Jack Remington?”
Treat didn’t even flinch. “Of course.”
“What do you mean, of course? Treat, I’m thirty-four years old. I think I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubt of that,” he said. Treat crossed his legs and reached one thick arm over the back of the chair beside him. “Vanny, why are you so angry?”
“Because.” Connor’s a jerk, and I really like Jack and I got hurt again. “I just don’t see why you’re always following up on what I’m doing. It’s…invasive.”
“Invasive.” He met her serious gaze with his own.
“Yes and embarrassing. Demeaning.”
“Demeaning? Really?”
“Treat, stop it. You know what I mean. I’m an adult, and your checking up on me makes me feel like a child.” She paced in front of the windows, not even sure herself where she was going with the conversation or why she was saying these things.
“Savannah, I didn’t check up on you. I checked up on him. You’re my sister. My attractive, well-off sister, and there are a lot of creeps out there. I’m just protecting you.” Treat stood and came to her side. “What’s going on? What’s changed?”
She leaned against the windowsill and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Treat, my life is such a mess. I know you meant well, but Jack’s a nice guy, really.”
“Yes, I know.”
She looked up at him. “You know? I thought you just checked up on him, you know, his background, not if he’s a nice guy or not.”
“I did.” He leaned on the windowsill beside Savannah. “It turns out that his brother Rush is a competitive skier, so I called Blake. He knows Rush well, and…” He shrugged. “Jack’s a good guy. He was even awarded a Congressional Medal of Honor when he was in the Special Forces.”
“Of course he was.” Savannah sighed. “And Connor’s the hottest actor around.”
“Vanny, what’s the parallel? Clue me in.”
Savannah pressed her lips into a tight line and narrowed her eyes, then shook her head, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from filling with tears.
“Oh, Savannah. You and Jack?” He laughed.
She swatted his arm. “It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not. I just should have known. You’re the most bullheaded, competitive woman I know, and from what Blake said, Jack’s as stubborn as a mule. Of course you were attracted to each other.” He clapped his hands together. “Tell me what I can do? I assume from your pout that it was a tryst gone bad?”
“I don’t know what it was, but I know that I can’t get him out of my head,” Savannah admitted.
He looked into Savannah’s eyes with a serious face. “Then you know about his wife?” Treat spoke with the same paternal tone her father did.
She lowered her eyes. “Yeah. Just that she died. I don’t know how or any of that, and I know that the last thing I need is a guy who’s still living with the ghost of his dead wife. But, Treat, why can’t I get him out of my head? I mean, with most guys, I’m strong. I make them work to date me. Well, maybe not Connor. Heaven only knows how screwed up I am to have let him mess with my head for so long. But you know me. I’m not a pushover, and from the minute I saw Jack, I was….” She covered her face with her hands again and shook her head with a groan. “He’s this weird dichotomy of tough and tender, and it’s frustrating and scary, and I don’t know if I should run away or run toward him.”
“You know when I met Max she was the same way.” His voice softened. “She wore a coat of armor so thick, I never thought I’d break through. But in those moments when we were close, I saw hints of her softness, and I knew I had to try.” Treat looked away, as if he were watching a memory unfold.
“I’m not sure it’s the same as the harshness that he has. He lost his wife, and I think he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be happy or something.”
Treat took her hand in his. “Savannah, pain comes from all different sources. We build up walls that seem like they’ll protect us, and we stay behind them, safe from the world. Or from our fears, or whatever stuff we have going through our minds. And then someone comes along that causes a tiny crack in the wall, and suddenly there’s a stream of light breaking through. Pain is pain. It doesn’t matter where it comes from. It all hurts. And until the right person’s light shines through, there’s no impetus for change.” He placed his arm over her shoulder.
“So then what? We just never change?”
“Then we hide in our hole some more. But when the right person breaks through, anything is possible.”
“You could make dog poop sound romantic.” She rested her head against him.
“Blaming yourself for your spouse’s death is a big hurt, Savannah. He probably needs time.” Treat put his arm around her shoulder as she sat up.
Blaming yourself? “What do you mean, blaming yourself?”
“I thought you knew. According to Rush, Jack blames himself for his wife’s death. Apparently, there was a storm. He’d just come back from an extended tour and was exhausted. He let her go out in the car alone, and shortly after she left, the storm picked up and…”
“And that’s when the accident happened. Oh my gosh, no wonder he’s haunted.” Savannah remembered the anguish she’d seen in his eyes when he told her that he wasn’t sure if he could move beyond his past.
“It’s worse than that, Vanny. He’s the one who found her.”
“Oh, no, Treat. That’s awful.” She ached for what Jack must be living with every moment of every day.
“How much do you like this guy, Savannah?”
“I don’t know. A lot,” she said honestly.
“Well, then, all I can do is support whatever you want to do. It seems like he’s a good man with really bad luck. So you tell me, what can I do to help you? Do you want me to talk you out of thinking about him?” He spoke with a serious tone, but Savannah recognized the tease in the way his eyes lit up.
“You know I won’t listen,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not contacting him and he hasn’t contacted me, so this whole thing will blow over and I’ll be left nursing another broken heart. I’m getting pretty good at that.”
Treat stood and pulled her into his arms. She relaxed against him, needing the security of his strength. It forced her to admit the thought she hadn’t wanted to breathe life into.
“This broken heart feels a lot different from any other I’ve ever had.”
Chapter Nineteen
JACK SAT ON the back deck of his chalet as the afternoon shifted into evening. The brisk air prickled his skin as he listened to the crickets, tree frogs, and other night sounds of the seven acres that buffered his chalet from the rest of the world, contemplating how he was going to approach his future. Every time he thought of calling Elise, his mind traveled to his brother Rush, and his gut tightened. Rush had never understood J
ack’s need to disengage from the life he knew and the family he loved. After Linda’s death, Rush had tried to be supportive, and the more Jack fought his support, the colder Rush became. The last few times Jack had seen him, Rush had reminded him that if he hadn’t been so darn wrapped up in himself, he wouldn’t have let Linda go out in the storm. Jack saw red, and he’d finally called Rush for what he was. You’re a spoiled womanizer who wouldn’t know how it felt to love if it kicked you in the butt, let alone how it feels to lose the one you love. He’d been so angry that he’d taken it even further. If I never see you again, it’ll be soon enough.
He eyed the phone on the table by the glass doors. All it would take was one phone call. Elise would come and pick up Linda’s clothes, and he could be done with it and finally move forward. Jack’s gut told him otherwise. He couldn’t move forward with any sense of normalcy with his family chaos looming over him.
Jack rose to his feet and walked to the edge of the woods, feeling the call to walk in and disappear or fly back up to the mountains for another month. He’d been tempted to tell Savannah about the cabin in Colorado that he’d called home for the past few years, but fear had held him back. The attraction to Savannah had been so intense, so potent from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, that it had scared him to no end. He’d tried hard to deny it, but it was too strong. His resolve had cracked and he’d let Savannah in. Way in. But the cabin was sacred. It was his hideaway, the one place he didn’t have to worry about seeing Linda’s ghost, since he’d bought it after she’d passed away. Not even his family knew where it was. He wasn’t ready to expose the only safety net he had. What if I can’t pull my crap together?
Savannah’s face flashed in his mind, and he felt his heart opening. A smile stretched across his face with the thought of her. He reached up and ran his finger along the curve of his lips, disbelieving that the emotion could be felt in this of all places. The place that had thrust him so deeply into guilt and anger that he’d had to run away. Happiness. Even the thought of it felt odd in his mind. Jack laughed, a quick, unexpected laugh, then turned back toward the chalet.
“I can’t believe it,” he said with another slight laugh. He headed inside, feeling a rush of strength, and picked up the phone.
For a minute Jack stared at the receiver, playing out how he might acknowledge his brother when he called. Hey, Rush. It’s me, Jack. Or, Rush, hey, it’s Jack. Picking up the phone to call his brother should have been a simple act. So why was his chest constricting, and his jaw clenched? Why did he feel his body slip into some sort of defensive state with every nerve strung tight? Because every time he thought of Rush, he saw his father’s stoic face right behind him.
Jack set down the receiver and sank into a dining room chair. He leaned his elbows on his thighs and dropped his face to his hands. I’m so messed up. This is insane. Savannah’s words replayed in his mind. I’ve latched on to some worthless, angry, insecure mountain man. He sat up tall and breathed in, expanding his chest and broad shoulders to their full capacity. Worthless. He rose to his feet, curling his hands into fists. Insecure. He was anything but worthless and insecure. Angry, yes. What guy wouldn’t be angry? He killed his wife. But insecure? Worthless? Is that what everyone thought of him now?
He stalked down the step into the sunken living room and snagged the framed medal from the built-in bookshelves beside the fireplace and scanned it. He needed to reiterate his value in his own mind. Congressional Medal of Honor. Above and beyond the call of duty. He touched the glass above the word valor. Pride swelled within him, drawing his shoulders back. He flexed the muscles in his legs, feeling his strength, and he stood taller. He set the medal back on the bookshelves and, wearing courage like a cloak, he went back to the phone. Without any hesitation, he dialed Rush’s number. His heart pounded against his chest. Each ring of Rush’s phone sped up his pulse.
“Hello?”
Rush’s deep, familiar voice sent a pain right through Jack’s chest. He swallowed to alleviate the tightening in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, and his mouth was so dry he couldn’t form a single word.
“Hello?” Rush’s tone was guarded.
“Rush,” Jack managed.
Silence filled the airwaves.
“Rush, it’s Jack.” He grasped for the right words. Heck, he grasped for any words. “Don’t hang up.”
“I’m not hanging up.”
The tension in Rush’s voice was equal to the fear in Jack’s as he pictured Rush standing, much like Jack was, with his body tense, legs rooted to the ground, biceps twitching.
“I know this is too late and I wouldn’t blame you for hanging up after the things I’ve said to you.” We’ve said to each other. “Rush, I’m done running, man.” He closed his eyes, disbelieving that he’d just said the words he’d sworn he’d never say, much less want to say. After Linda died, he didn’t think he’d ever want to stop running away. Savannah made him realize how wrong he’d been.
He heard Rush blow out a breath, and Jack pictured his shockingly blue eyes—which were as light as Jack’s were dark—in a conflicted stare, a mixture of cold anger and warm brotherly love.
“I’m calling Elise to come get Linda’s things.” Come on, Rush. Talk to me!
“Don’t.” Rush’s emphatic statement took Jack by surprise.
“Don’t?”
“Her father’s really sick. Terminal. You’ll only upset her more,” Rush said.
“Terminal?” Jack’s voice faded to a whisper. “Ralph?” Before Linda’s death, Jack and Ralph had been close. He had fond memories of talking about the military and politics with Ralph, watching football together on Thanksgiving, and sharing many intimate conversations mulling over the differences between men and women. He smiled at the memories, but the smile quickly faded as he remembered their last interaction. It had been right after Linda’s accident, when Ralph had made no bones about his blaming Jack for Linda’s death. Jack had known then that it was grief speaking, but Ralph’s words had only confirmed what Jack believed to be true.
Jack rubbed the scar on the back of his arm.
“Jack, you’ve done enough damage to that family. Don’t make it worse,” Rush said.
His words sliced through Jack’s courage like a knife, leaving him grasping for strength as he lowered himself to the chair once again.
“Rush, I gotta see him.” Jack closed his eyes. He had to see him and clear the air. It wasn’t just Ralph who had said cutting, hurtful things.
“The guy’s on his deathbed, Jack. What good will it do?”
Rush’s voice softened, and Jack was glad for the change. Maybe there was hope for them after all.
“I’m not sure, but I owe it to Linda. We were solid before she…before the accident.”
“That was a long time ago, Jack. It took months for him to be able to move on, and he finally has. A lot has happened over the past two years while you’ve been hiding out like Saddam Hussein.”
Jack stifled the urge to tell his brother to kiss off. Jack had earned his medal during the capture of Hussein, and he knew that Rush was just trying to push his buttons. He wondered if his father was right there behind him, goading him on. His father was always goading them on. Be a man.
Jack couldn’t get sidetracked by crap going on with Rush. If Rush didn’t want to let Jack back into his life, that was something he’d deal with at another time. With this new information, the fragility of life reverberated through him like a double-sided blade. Every slice tried to steal his strength and courage. Jack rose to his feet and stared out the window and into the darkness.
“No way. I owe this to Linda and I owe it to Ralph.” Savannah’s words ran through Jack’s mind. I see Jack Remington, man, widower, soft-hearted-survivor-man-slash-pilot. Who can be a real jerk when he gets scared. Jack wasn’t going to run scared anymore. Today he was making changes, and nothing was going to stop him. Not even his love for his brother. “I called because I wanted to try to clear the air with y
ou, Rush. You’re my brother, man, and I love you, but I get it. You still see me as some prick who ran away from his life, and I don’t know how to fix that. But I can fix the stuff with Ralph, and I intend to. With or without your support.”
“Selfish as ever,” Rush said before hanging up the phone.
Jack lowered the receiver from his ear, clenching it so tightly that his knuckles were white. He would not be dissuaded. He went outside and snagged his backpack from his motorcycle and leafed through Savannah’s registration form; then he picked up the phone and dialed her number. His forehead was damp with sweat despite the cool breeze coming through the open dining room window as seconds ticked by and her phone rang two, three, four times and finally went to voicemail. Hope soared within his heart at the sound of her recorded voice, reiterating the reason he wanted to change. Savannah.
“Hey, this is Jack.” Why do I sound so stern? He made a conscious effort to soften his tone, pacing while he left the rest of his message to try to walk off residual frustration from his conversation with Rush. “Savannah, I…uh…” Shoot. I should have prepared. “I’d like to see you. Talk to you. Whatever you want. I don’t care if we talk on the phone or…I sound like an idiot. I’m sorry. If you have any interest, please call me.” He left her his number and hung up the phone feeling as nervous as a high school kid asking a girl out for the first time.
Before he lost his courage, he called information and got the number for Elise. The phone rang three times, and he mentally prepared to leave a message. Elise, this is Jack. I—
“Hello?”
Linda? Jack held his breath. Her voice was identical to Linda’s. Elise. It’s Elise. It had been so long since he’d spoken to her that he’d forgotten how similar they sounded.
“Elise, this is Jack. Jack Remington. Please don’t hang up,” he pleaded.
“Jack? Oh my gosh, Jack. Why would I hang up?”
Tears filled his eyes. “Why would you—I can think of a hundred reasons.” The words tumbled out without thought. Relief stole the tension from his body. He leaned against the wall, his neck arched and his eyes locked on the ceiling. Thank goodness.