by Karen Rose
“Liza always—” He cut himself off with a groan. Pebbles. Liza always walked her when he needed to work late. He’d probably be coming home to a mountain of Great Dane excrement.
Molina frowned. “Is Miss Barkley all right?”
“Yes.” I hope. “She just . . . doesn’t rent from me any longer.”
Molina seemed to digest this, then shook her head. “Not my circus,” she murmured.
Not my monkeys went unsaid.
“You might as well say what’s on your mind,” Tom said bitterly. “Everyone else has.”
“Then I don’t need to. Home, Hunter. Rest. Then be ready when we need you.”
So Tom gathered his things and started for home. Luckily, the field office wasn’t far from the duplex. It was one of the reasons Liza had chosen it. It was far from the veterans’ home, though, and even farther from the nursing school. She’d said she hadn’t minded.
She’d set up his life for his convenience and comfort at the expense of her own. He could see that now. He needed to talk to her. He needed to. He needed to make this right. But . . .
I need more than that.
She needed him to back away. But . . .
He’d been about to speed-dial her when his personal cell began to ring through his SUV’s speakers. It was Rafe Sokolov. “Rafe, is there anything wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. Nothing new, anyway. I was hoping you could come to my house. I borrowed some tables for Mercy’s party and I’ve been hiding them in the garage. Amos and I could use some help loading them into his truck. Neither of us is operating at full capacity.”
“Of course. I need to stop by my house and walk Pebbles first, though.”
“Bring her with you,” Rafe said warmly. “Abigail will be so happy to see her. Then, after we move the tables, you can have dinner with us. We’re ordering pizzas.”
That sounded more than nice. Not spending the evening alone sounded like heaven.
“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, MAY 26, 7:05 P.M.
“I ordered the pizzas,” Rafe announced as he came through the door to the studio apartment he and Mercy shared. “Double anchovies for everybody, right?”
Liza looked up from where she sat on the floor painting Abigail’s nails to catch him wink.
“What’s anchovies?” Abigail asked.
“Salty little fish,” Liza said.
“Ew!” Abigail cried, scrunching up her face. “That’s gross, Rafe.”
“He’s teasing,” Mercy told her softly. Then she looked uncertain. “Aren’t you, Rafe?”
“He totally is,” Sasha Sokolov said, her hands soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. Rafe’s sister lived upstairs but was hanging with them on the lower floor for girls’ night.
“I totally am,” Rafe assured Abigail, tugging on her braid. “I got liver flavor instead.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “You’re teasing again.”
“He is,” Daisy said firmly. She was painting Mercy’s nails, taking special care because Mercy was going to be guest of honor at her birthday party. Everyone thought it was still a surprise, not knowing that Mercy had figured it out. “We’re eating pepperoni and sausage and all the good things. And you don’t even have to finish your supper to have ice cream.”
Liza perked up. “What kind of ice cream?”
“All the flavors,” Erin Rhee said from the sofa where she sat next to Gideon, who was watching them with silent, semihorrified fascination, as though if he asked them what they were doing, they’d somehow drag him into their little salon.
Gideon hadn’t originally been invited, but his brush with one of DJ’s bullets that afternoon had left him shaken and wanting company. Daisy was equally shaken, although she was wearing a brave face. Gideon’s presence crowded them a bit in the small studio, but no one faulted the two for not wanting the other out of their sight, and Rafe couldn’t manage the stairs. So they crowded in close on the ground floor, Liza finding comfort in their company.
“All the important flavors, anyway,” Erin amended. Sasha’s girlfriend had been shot by Ephraim a month ago along with so many others, and although she’d returned to desk duty in SacPD’s homicide department, she was still in pain from her injuries. She couldn’t sit on the floor with the rest of them but didn’t want to miss the party. “Look in the freezer, if you want.”
With a squeal of delight, Abigail ran to the freezer. “It’s like an ice cream store!”
“There’s even rocky road,” Erin said. “For Liza.”
“Because we are here for you, girl,” Sasha said, because apparently everyone knew that Liza and Tom had argued. “No boys allowed in our clubhouse. Except for Rafe. He can stay.”
Rafe mock-sneered at his sister. “Gee, thanks, considering it’s my apartment.”
“What about me?” Gideon asked.
“You can stay, too,” Daisy said. “You can even be the next client in Daisy’s nail salon.”
“That’s not necessary,” Gideon assured her. “I’m just here for the pizza.”
And the support from this tight-knit group of friends. No one had mentioned the shooting, but it was on everyone’s mind.
Liza had heard about it from Karl’s driver after she’d climbed from the box he’d used to smuggle her into his truck. The family was shaken, he’d shared. So was Liza, but it seemed they were getting very skilled at pretending that everything was all right.
Liza looked up from shaking the bottle of topcoat for Abigail’s nails when she noticed that the room had grown quiet. And that Rafe was looking uncomfortable. “You okay, Rafe?”
Rafe made an awkward face as he scratched the back of his neck. “Liza, can I talk to you for a moment?” He pointed at the front door. “Out in the hall?”
Liza gave him a wary look. “Now?”
“Yeah.”
Mercy’s brows crunched together. “Rafe? What have you done?”
“Nothing.” He winced. “Well, nothing bad. Too bad anyway. Nothing I can’t fix.”
Liza stood, dread settling on her shoulders. This would be about Tom, then. “Let’s get it over with.” She followed Rafe out and waited until he’d settled himself against the foyer wall, leaning on his cane. “Go ahead.”
“I need some help with some heavy lifting for Mercy’s party on Sunday. You know about the party, right?”
“Yes,” Liza said, relieved. This wasn’t about Tom, then. “What do you need lifted?”
Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it. Then sighed. “I don’t need you to lift anything. I called Tom. He’s coming over to help me load some tables into Amos’s truck.”
Liza closed her eyes. “Of course he is.”
“Your car’s not outside, so Tom won’t know you’re here. I didn’t want you blindsided.”
“Thank you. I can duck upstairs while he’s here.” But then Rafe winced again. “What?”
“I might have invited him to eat pizza with us.”
Liza’s temper popped. “Dammit, Rafe.”
“I’m sorry! It sounded like a good idea at the time. He doesn’t know you’re here. I promise.”
“When will he get here?” A knock at the front door was her answer. “Fucking hell, Rafe.”
Rafe sighed. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. But I do need help with the tables. I didn’t make that up. You can go upstairs if you need to and I’ll take him out for pizza.”
A dog barked and Liza’s resolve crumbled. “He brought Pebbles. Just . . . open the door.”
Rafe did and Tom stepped in, his expression going slack in surprise. So at least Rafe hadn’t lied about not telling him that she was here. Pebbles took advantage of Tom’s distraction to tug her leash from Tom’s hand and lunge at Liza.
“Whoa,” Li
za soothed, gently shoving Pebbles’s massive paws from her chest. She crouched when the dog dropped to all fours, wrapping her arms around Pebbles’s neck and burying her face in the dog’s fur. “Missed you,” she whispered, laughing when Pebbles licked her face.
“I’ll . . .” Rafe hesitated. “Those tables are in the garage, Tom.”
But Tom wasn’t listening, his gaze frozen on Liza’s face. “Can I talk to you?”
“Me?” Rafe asked.
Liza sighed. “No, he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to me. Like you didn’t know.”
Rafe looked uncomfortable. “You should go back with the girls, Liza. Tom, let’s get busy.”
Tom took a step forward, his gaze still locked with Liza’s. “Please.”
Liza opened the garage door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
Tom crossed the space in two long strides. He closed the door in Rafe’s face before descending the single step into the garage, where Liza had retreated to the far wall, leaning against the hood of Sasha’s hot pink car.
“I didn’t see your car outside,” Tom said.
“I got a ride.”
“Oh.” Tom’s throat worked as he swallowed. He approached warily, his eyes on hers.
She took a few steps back, stopping when she hit the wall. “Is there an issue with Sunny—” She cut herself off, not knowing who could overhear. “With my job application? I already told Raeburn about my interview. Have you heard anything?”
“No, this isn’t about that place. Liza, are you afraid of me?”
Liza frowned. “No. Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’re standing as far away from me as you can. I can’t . . . I couldn’t handle it if you were afraid of me.”
Liza hated seeing the apprehension on his handsome face. “I’m not afraid of you, Tom. It’s just best if I keep my distance.”
“Why?” he asked, the single syllable sounding tortured.
“Because I . . .” She stared at her feet, then looked up to see he’d come closer. Close enough to touch her now. Close enough for her to catch the scent of his aftershave. “Because it hurts, okay? Being close to you, smelling you, feeling how warm you are? It hurts, because I want more. I know that makes me stupid, but—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Stop it. You are never stupid.” He dropped his arm to his side and she missed his touch immediately. “I’m stupid, but not you.”
“Why did you think I could be afraid of you?”
“Because I yelled.” His blue eyes were filled with turmoil. “I lost my temper and I yelled.”
“You’ve done that before. You’ll—” She stopped herself before she could say that he’d do it again. Because she wouldn’t be giving him that opportunity. Because she’d walked away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should never yell at you. My father yelled. I don’t mean to.”
“Oh.” Liza’s eyes stung. She knew all about Tom’s father. Knew how the man had beaten Tom’s mother until she’d nearly died. Knew that he’d tortured Tom as a child, burning his skin with cigarettes because Tom had tried to protect his mother when his father had been kicking her.
She knew how conflicted Tom was because he’d been happy when his father was killed in prison. She knew it made him worry that there was a monster inside him, too.
She knew all of this because he’d told her. He’d trusted her with his deepest secrets.
I should have thought of this. “Oh, Tom. You are not your father. You could never be like him. Erase that from your mind, because it never entered mine. I am afraid, but never of you.”
“Then of who?” he asked, his whisper rough and hoarse.
“I’m afraid of myself. Of who I am when I’m near you.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m afraid because you could convince me to come back, to live on the other side of your duplex, where we’d just be friends forever. And that would hurt too much. I’d rather you yelled at me.”
He flinched. “Are we ever going to be friends again?”
God. He was breaking her heart. Because this wasn’t an act. This wasn’t manipulation. This was Liza, taking something away from him that he’d treasured.
He had treasured their friendship. Of that, she’d never had a single doubt.
“Yes, but not right now. I don’t know how to be your friend right now,” she confessed. “But I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
He took another step forward, then another, until the tips of their shoes were millimeters apart. He searched her face before cupping her cheek in his palm.
Warm and strong. Just like he’d always been.
“How long?” he asked.
Knowing she was cracking, she pressed her cheek into his hand. “How long will it take me to figure it out?”
“No. How long have you felt this way?”
She wanted to scream No! She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t have that piece of her. But then his thumb swept across her cheek. It was a tender touch. The touch of a lover.
But he wasn’t and he never would be.
Still, the words came tumbling out. “Since I was seventeen years old.”
He gasped. “You were too young. I was too old.”
“You were twenty, Tom. Not too old. Not that it matters. I’m not seventeen anymore and you’re not twenty, but you still don’t have the same feelings that I do. That’s why I moved out. You’ll never feel the way I do and I can’t live my life wishing that you did. Eventually you’ll meet someone new and you’ll bring her home and . . .” A sob choked her, but Liza forced it back down. “You’ll have a good life,” she finished in a whisper. “Which I really want for you.”
She hadn’t moved her face and he hadn’t moved his hand.
He was staring down at her, his emotions too turbulent for her to read. But then, one emotion rose above the others and the sight stopped her heart. Longing.
She leaned closer and for a brief, shining moment, hope surged. Again.
And then he took a step back. Again. “All right,” he said quietly. “I won’t bother you anymore. Just let me know when you’ve figured out how we can be friends, okay?”
He left the garage, and a few seconds later, she heard Pebbles’s yip and whine, Tom’s deep rumble of chastisement, and then, finally, she heard Rafe’s front door open and close.
She let out the breath she’d been holding and sagged against Sasha’s car. For a few minutes she stood there, breathing. Collecting the pieces of her heart that had shattered. One by one, she rebuilt herself until she could stand firmly on her own two feet.
She had practice doing this. She’d done it before. When her mother had died. When her sister was killed. When she’d held Fritz’s body, his life already having seeped away.
She’d rebuilt her life before. She’d do it again. And because she had a little girl waiting for her in Mercy’s apartment, she forced her feet to move.
She opened the door to find Rafe waiting in the foyer, looking devastated.
He started to speak. “I’m—”
She held up her hand, stopping him with a smile. “It’s all right, Rafe. Tom and I are friends.” It was a lie, but Rafe seemed to believe it. “It’s not the drama you think it is. He yelled at me the other night because he was upset that I hadn’t told him about Fritz until now. He needed to be sure that he hadn’t hurt my feelings.”
“And did he?”
“Nope,” she said with forced cheer. “I’m good.”
“He’ll come back tomorrow to help me with the tables. You can hide anywhere you like.”
“If I’m still here,” she said lightly. “I have to go home sometime. Although I do recall you promising pancakes for breakfast when I first got here, so I’ll stay for those.”
Rafe’s smile was one of relief. “Okay. But maybe tell t
hat to Mercy? Otherwise I’ll be sleeping with Abigail’s puppy in the doghouse tonight.”
“It’ll be quieter there,” she told him. “Abigail wants to stay up all night telling stories. I give her till midnight before she conks out.”
She opened the door to rejoin the party, only to stop short at the sight of Mercy holding one of the cartons of rocky road and a spoon.
Liza appreciated the gesture more than she could say, and she really, really wanted that ice cream, but she shook her head with a smile. “I’m good. Let’s save the dessert until after the pizza. Abigail, we need to finish polishing your fingernails.”
“Mercy did it for me.”
Well, shit. Liza amped up her smile. “What about your toenails? You can’t leave them naked. That would be too scandalous.”
“Can I have stickers on them?”
“You sure can.” Liza sat on the floor and patted her lap. “Come sit with me and we can choose your design.” And if she squeezed Abigail a little harder than necessary, the little girl didn’t complain.
TWENTY-ONE
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
SATURDAY, MAY 27, 10:30 A.M.
Liza found everyone eating pancakes in Rafe’s small studio apartment the next morning. They’d scattered among the three floors when it had been time for bed the night before. Liza had been worried that Abigail would want to camp on the floor with sleeping bags, but the girl had informed them that she’d slept on the floor “back there” and liked a soft bed better.
Liza had been the odd woman out, all the other adults—except for Amos—having partners. So she’d shared Abigail’s bed with the little girl, telling herself to stop feeling sorry for herself.
Amos had prepared her for Abigail’s nightmares. Liza was ready to hold Abigail and tell her that it would be all right. What she hadn’t expected was that she’d wake up gasping herself. She’d dreamed about Fritz again, except that at the last minute, Fritz’s face had become Tom’s.
Equally unexpected was that Abigail had comforted her. The child had wrapped her arms around Liza’s neck in a fierce hug, telling her sleepily that it was just a dream and that everything would be all right.