by Stacey Wilk
“That’s where you’re wrong. If you had been able to tell Ajay you loved him, he might not have gone looking for love in the wrong places.”
Her words were like a punch in his gut. He couldn’t suck in any air. She had accused him of not loving Ajay. She was dead wrong.
“Sheriff?” Barry stuck his head through the doorway. “Are you about finished here? I dusted and came up with nothing.”
“Damn. Take a ride by the hospital and see if Kennedy is conscious. Get her statement.”
“Will do.” Barry ducked out of the office.
He emailed himself a copy of Kennedy’s video. He should ask first, but he wasn’t hiding what he was doing, and Kennedy would want to catch whoever did this. She’d be worried about her customers and not one ounce about Justin Crow. That they would have in common.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you so determined to protect some kid you don’t know or owe anything to?” He held her gaze. She wasn’t going to leave until she answered him.
She let out another long breath and played with the bracelets on her arm. “Why are you giving me the third degree?”
“Why is Justin so important? There has to be a reason. Does he remind you of someone? Or are you trying to make amends for something?” He couldn’t stop the need to know.
“I’m not the one who’s guilty of anything.”
His heartbeat picked up speed, and his ire sprang to life. “I’m tired of you pointing the finger at me for something I had no control of. I loved my brother. It was my job to take care of him. I did the best I could. I was a kid too.” His insides shook with fury.
She flinched, but it didn’t stop him.
“There is nothing you can say or do that will make me feel worse than I do. I have to live with the fact I froze in the moment they needed me. That image plays in my head day after day. I lost my brother. When will you get that?” He clenched his fists to keep from knocking everything off Kennedy’s desk.
What Kace had said to him earlier about putting Ajay’s death behind him rang in his ears. He would only be able to do that when Calista finally forgave him. If she didn’t love him any longer, he needed her to forgive him.
“Justin reminds me of my neighbor.” She moved away from him and dropped her gaze. She tucked her neck into her shoulders, and her fingers ran over her bracelets. “That’s why I want to help him. I don’t expect you to understand. You believe in the rules at all costs.”
Her words hung in the air, waiting to be grabbed, and even if he could, he didn’t know what to do with them. Law and order were the things that made the most sense to him. “If Justin is involved in these robberies, I can’t change the rules because you like him.”
She leaned against a pile of cardboard boxes labeled with different types of liquor. She rubbed her head near the bandage. “Fox was about Justin’s age. Trying to make something of himself. He was a poor kid with a lot of disadvantages. His life was cut short by a stray bullet.” Tears filled her eyes, and one spilled down her cheek.
He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her cry, if ever. “I’m sorry you lost your friend. Let me drive you home. It’s been a bad night for you. You need to get some rest.” The fight seeped out of him. She chased her own demons. He had to let her do it alone. They would never be okay together.
“I’m sorry I said you didn’t show Ajay love. That isn’t true.” She wiped away another tear.
He couldn’t stop himself from gathering her in his arms. He wanted the pain and hurt to go away for her, especially after what had happened since she came home. She relaxed against him, and his heart knocked on his ribs.
She tightened her grip around his waist, which eased some of the pain in his chest. “I don’t think I can go back to the B and B. I don’t want to face my dad after this. Could you drive me to the motel out on the highway?”
“I’ll take you to the ranch. We have a room available in the main house. I’ll call my mother and tell her you’re coming.” He wouldn’t allow her to stay out at the motel all by herself. She’d be safe on his ranch and down the hall from his brother with plenty of firearms and ammo.
“I can’t go there.” She pushed away from him.
Her body heat dissipated, and he missed it instantly. “Mom will be glad to have you there.”
“Your mother doesn’t want me there. And Jett. He hates me.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I hurt you. It’s only natural for them to side with you.”
“Calista, can you put the past aside for one damn night? You were hurt in a robbery and should be at the hospital. If you won’t go home, then come home with me so someone can keep an eye on you.” He wanted to blur the line that separated his life into two parts. The first part was the one with Ajay, Ava, and Calista in it, and it was filled with sound and textures. The second part was the one without, and it was silent and hollow. Even though he had Izzi during that second part, and she filled in so many spaces for him, he wanted something he could never have.
“I couldn’t bear having your mother fuss all over me.”
“You’re being ridiculous. She loves to fuss.” He hoped humor would light the way to reason.
“It hurts too much when she’s nice to me. Her kindness only spotlights what’s missing in my life.”
“Your mother.” Her mother had walked out on her family not long after Ava died. That was probably his fault too.
“No. Not my mother. You.”
Chapter Eleven
Calista tried to keep her gaze out the windshield of Gage’s truck and not at the outline of his strong jaw covered with his dark beard, but she failed. His unshaven face and thick, jean-clad thighs sent heat to her core. She fisted her hands in her lap to keep from touching him.
Her head hurt. She had a lump the size of a crater on her forehead, and embarrassment burned her cheeks like a sun-cooked sidewalk. How stupid had she and Kennedy been? They could have been killed. They should have called for help sooner and locked themselves in the office without ever going to check on that noise.
She should have known better. Her stupidity caused her to get hurt and end up sitting next to Gage in his truck. “Can we call the hospital when we get to your place and check on Kennedy?” Her emotions strangled her voice. She had been holding it together until now, but his woodsy scent was undoing her. She didn’t want to cry in front of him too.
He hit a button on his steering wheel. A computerized female voice filled the cab of the truck. “Safe Gateway phone.”
“Call Deputy Sheriff Pearce.” Gage gave her a small smile.
A phone rang.
“Thank you.” Her heart tugged the corners of her mouth up.
“Evening, Sheriff.”
“How’s Kennedy?”
“Sleeping. She told me to get the hell out of her room, and she’d talk to me in the morning. Figured I stand guard all night unless you tell me otherwise.”
“Sounds like Kennedy,” Gage said. “Go home. She’ll be safe where she is. We’ll talk to her tomorrow when she isn’t as ornery.”
“Thanks, Sheriff. Night now.”
“Good night, Barry.” Gage hit the button again, and the music softly playing on the radio returned to the truck.
He turned onto the driveway to the ranch and drove past the main house.
“Where are you going?” Calista asked.
“You didn’t want my mother to cluck and flap her feathers around you. I’m taking you to my house.”
“Oh no. That’s a bad idea.”
“Stop trying to get out of your seat. It’s no big deal. You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch. Izzi will be glad to see you in the morning. You can talk about your bracelets or whatever they’re called.” He pointed at her wrist.
Sleep in Gage’s bed? She might die. “I would love to see Izzi, but I can’t.”
He parked in front of a small log cabin tucked between tall evergreens. The front porch invited her in with its roc
king chairs and lantern-style lights. “If you don’t want to come in, then you can stay in the truck.” He pushed out of his seat.
“You could let me take your truck home.” As much as she didn’t want to face her father or her house, that was a better option than sleeping in his bed.
He leaned back into the cab. “You have a head injury. And no one drives my truck, lady.” He tossed the keys in the air and with a swoop, pocketed them.
He didn’t wait for her. She squirmed with indecision. It would be so easy to walk inside his house and climb under his sheets. She could wrap herself in his scent, and for a few hours she could let go. Sleep would cover the hurt from the past, she could forget her father’s vacant stare, and the ache in her chest would disappear. But the truth was, sharing a small space with him would only make the hurt worse. She wanted to let go of her hold on the past, but every time she flexed her fingers, fear had her grabbing hold again. Like the times they’d go out to the lake to swim and Gage would dare her to grab the rope and swing until she hung over the lake. She never let go of that rope.
He slipped inside but left the door open. She stared out the window.
He returned with hands on his hips. “Calista, stop being so stubborn and get inside the damn house.”
With a deep breath, she slid from the truck. Her heart raced as if she were still hovering over the lake. She wasn’t much of a calm and peaceful yoga teacher. At least not when his woodsy scent antagonized her as she passed him.
“It’s not much, but it works for us.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it on the small table by the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Panic strangled her words. He couldn’t leave her alone now.
He tapped his waist. “I need to lock up my gun. I’ll just be a second. Make yourself at home.” He disappeared down a hallway.
She allowed her legs to lead her around the living room. Her hands shook as she dragged her fingers over the top of the leather couch and recliner that faced the television. Hunting magazines and a textbook littered the coffee table.
The brick fireplace was filled with ashes. On the mantel above were pictures in wooden frames. A little girl in a flowered dress looked over her shoulder and smiled at the camera.
There was a second one of five young men. They all wore white T-shirts and jeans. Each man had the same chiseled jaw, bronze skin, and black hair. Instead of looking at the camera, they looked at each other. A twenty-five-year-old Gage smiled at Jett. Jett had his hand on Gage’s shoulder as if to push him away, but the light in his eyes showed a playfulness. Lock crossed his arms over his chest, probably frustrated his brothers wouldn’t pose, but a smirk pulled on his lips. Kace wore a baseball hat backward and raised his arms to show off his muscles. Ajay pretended to punch Kace. Her breath caught. There was so much love in that photo.
“That’s the last picture we all took together. We took it as a Mother’s Day present. It was Ajay’s idea.” Gage’s voice yanked her gaze away from the photo.
“It’s very nice.” She stepped away from it. She should have remembered that photo shoot, but she didn’t. She had done a very good job of forgetting. Especially the part that Ajay was a member of a family that loved him very much despite his mistakes. Losing Ava wasn’t fair, but this family had suffered too. Remembering that made the hole in her heart grow bigger.
He stepped into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you. I can sleep on the couch. You don’t have to give up your bed.” Her feet didn’t move. She doubted she’d be able to even sit on the couch, let alone sleep. The room closed in on her. Sweat broke out on her lip, and the air in her lungs leaked out.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep when you have a concussion.” Pots and pans played a noisy tune as he moved around the kitchen.
“That’s a myth. I’m fine. It only hurts if I touch it. Please don’t make me anything to eat.” Because she might vomit it right back up.
“I thought pancakes might make a good snack.” He poured milk into a bowl. “Take the bed. You’ll be more comfortable.”
“I won’t sleep in your bed. Stop suggesting it.” Her voice rose. His kindness was too much to take. She should never have come here. Heat burned her face. The sweat moved from her lip to the back of her neck.
He put his hands up. Pancake batter dripped from the spoon. “Okay. Okay. Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax, damn it.” She couldn’t summon her yoga training. Instead of finding a way to ground herself, she allowed her anger to push her around.
“Then don’t relax. Do whatever you want.” He tossed the spoon and the bowl into the sink. They clattered like tin cans dragged by a car.
“Do you know how hard it is to be around you?” She should stop talking, but her mouth spilled the words the way her father spilled her paint earlier. This mess puddled around them, unable to be cleaned up.
“I have an idea. You don’t miss a chance to tell me.” He wiped a hand over his face. Exhaustion carved out the lines around his mouth.
“How is this so easy for you?”
“What’s that? Being in your company? It’s not. In fact, I wish you were anywhere but here in my house.”
“I’ll go, then. You didn’t have to bring me here. I would’ve gone to the motel. This was your stupid idea.”
Why had she trusted him? He didn’t want her any more than any other significant person in her life. She would go to the motel. A walk that far would take an hour without the exhaustion weighing on her or the pain in her head, but she’d be damned if she would stay. She was scared, even if she didn’t want to tell him that. No amount of deep breathing was going to calm her nerves tonight.
She headed for the door, but he cut her off. “Don’t go.” He stared down at her with his smoldering glare.
“I can’t do this.”
“It’s just one night.” He reached for her.
She punched his chest with one hand. “It’s been every night for the last sixteen years. I think I’m strong enough to be in town with you, to pretend our history belongs to someone else, but I’m not. I needed you, and you let me down.” Her fists continued to move by their own will.
The robbery tonight had been too much. It had sent her over the edge. She had been juggling her emotions well enough until he called and asked her to come home. In Backwater, she couldn’t pretend. The scars of her past were around every corner, waiting for her to trip over like broken branches littering the ground.
He tried to keep her from pummeling him, but his hands missed, and she collided with his chest over and over. “Calista, stop.”
The tears burned their way down her face. She choked. “Why did they have to die?”
He gripped her wrists in his hands and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
The anguish in his voice stopped her from crying. His eyes were filled with tears, and she winced. He always held his emotions close. He handled them by finding control in the rules. Unlike his brother Kace, who handled his emotions daring death on a racetrack.
He gathered her in his arms and held her. His heart drummed against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him. For a moment, they weren’t two people lost in a storm. They were two people who loved each other, who shared so many memories, who could see the sun come over the horizon promising a day filled with possibilities.
She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him still, but the words floated away.
“I want you to trust me again,” he said.
“I don’t know how to find my way back to you.” She owed Ava. Being with Gage was an act of disloyalty.
“It’s not back. It’s forward.”
“I can’t find my way forward either.” She’d been lost for so long. She had run away after the tragedy. She couldn’t commit to anything. Not a career. Not a man. She had been frozen in place. She desperately wanted to go back to that night, to take
away the slap on his face, to tell him she loved him instead, to hold him because he had to zip a black bag around his brother.
She wasn’t any better than her father and his shrine. He wouldn’t change anything in Ava’s room because it would mean she was gone. If she moved forward and forgave Gage, even dared to love him openly again, then she would also have to admit Ava would never come back. Tears stung the back of her throat, but she didn’t release her grip on his waist.
He kissed the top of her head and untangled himself from her grasp. “You can sleep on the couch. There’s a blanket in the chest. Good night.”
He slammed a door shut.
On her heart.
Chapter Twelve
Calista tore the comforter off the bed. Dust flew into the stream of sun coming in from the window and tickled her nose. She needed to burn up this unrest. Tearing apart Ava’s old room was going to be the way.
She hadn’t slept a wink on Gage’s couch. The blanket she found to toss over herself smelled like his woodsy scent. Like a lovesick schoolgirl, she had balled it in her fists and held it under her nose most of the night.
His embrace had seared her skin. She wanted his hands all over her, but instead he had pushed her away. That had been her fault. She told him she couldn’t move forward. This morning she wanted to for the first time. The look on his face last night when he’d allowed his frustration to show nearly broke her heart.
She craved his touch the way she craved air. She tried to forget how good his muscles felt under her fingers. Or the way he would tangle his legs around hers when they slept. She didn’t want to remember the intense look on his face when he tried to figure something out or the ease in his stride when he hiked through the mountains.
Every man she had been with had paled in comparison. It wasn’t fair to hold them up to Gage’s memory, but she never stopped doing it.
The sheets had been on this bed for sixteen years, collecting dust the way a hoarder collects garbage. She yanked them off and folded everything before placing them in the cardboard boxes. Packing up the clothes, photos, and awards might be the hardest, but it would have to be done.