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“Really? You actually believe that? Then we have a bigger problem than I thought.” He was quiet for a moment. “I thought it would get better. That you’d see what you were doing. But you haven’t and you won’t. Maybe I’ve been afraid of the consequences, I don’t know. Regardless, I’m done waiting.”
He stood and looked down at her. “I’m sure you’ve got all kinds of information in your folders there, Deanna. I don’t know if you planned to try to scare the crap out of me or tell me to get out. So my bottom line won’t have the same details as yours, but here goes anyway. I want a real marriage. I want to feel like I’m welcome in my own home. I’m tired of you calling all the shots and treating our daughters like they’re dogs to be housebroken rather than children to be nurtured. Things are going to change, starting now, or our marriage is over.”
He might have said more. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was cold and couldn’t breathe and her stomach hurt. She tried to stand and couldn’t. The folders fell onto the ground. Papers scattered everywhere.
He was wrong. He was wrong! The words repeated over and over again. Wrong and cruel. She hated him, hated this.
She managed to stand. Once she’d stepped out from the bench, she turned to tell him that, but he was already gone, his car driving away. She watched him disappear around a curve, and then she was alone.
* * *
Boston plunged her hands into the cool soil and moved her fingers through the loose dirt. Seedlings lined up beside her, delicate wisps that would grow into sturdy plants. While she planted most of her garden directly with seeds, the past few years she’d been experimenting with starting a few vegetables as seedlings. Zeke had built her a small greenhouse just for that purpose. Last year she’d had success with her tomatoes. This year she was adding broccoli and cabbage to the mix.
She reached for the first plant, then sat back on her heels when she heard a truck pull into the driveway. Not her husband, she thought. Her brother-in-law, Wade. Most likely here to plead Zeke’s case. Once a big brother, always a big brother. Wade could no more help himself from stepping between Zeke and trouble than he could change his eye color or height.
She shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the grass and waited. About thirty seconds later, Wade walked around the corner of the house and spotted her.
“I figured you’d be in your garden,” he said as he approached.
Boston stared up at him. The brothers were around the same height, six-two, with dark hair and eyes. They were strong, easygoing and loyal to a fault. They were also driven by demons neither would admit to and shared a passion for sports that she had never understood. All she knew was that she held a small private celebration every year when football season was finally over.
Wade settled next to her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had on jeans and worn work boots, a plaid shirt. No jacket. The King brothers were tough and barely bothered with any kind of outerwear until it hit near freezing.
She’d known Wade nearly as long as she’d known his brother. If she remembered correctly, Zeke had taken her home to meet his family after their second date. Over salad and spaghetti he’d announced he was going to marry her one day. She had to give his parents credit. Neither had blinked at the statement. Probably because they’d assumed that young love didn’t have much of a shelf life.
“He thinks you’re pissed,” Wade said, his tone conversational.
“Shouldn’t he be having this conversation with me?” she asked.
“You know Zeke hates confrontation.”
“And you don’t?”
Wade gave her a familiar grin. “You like me too much to yell at me. Besides, I’m the innocent bystander.”
“I love Zeke and I’m very comfortable yelling at him.”
“Sure, which is why I’m here instead of him. He doesn’t know how to reach you. He says it’s like you’re not even there some days.”
An accurate assessment, she thought, knowing that every spare corner of her heart was filled with pain. There was so much of it, she couldn’t feel anything else. And because the pain consumed her, she deliberately chose to feel nothing at all.
She missed her beautiful baby boy in perfect solitude, in an emotional vacuum, where he was always smiling and happy and only slightly out of reach.
She poked at the turned earth. “This isn’t your fight, Wade.”
“Tell me he can go home. I’m tired of him sleeping on my couch.”
“He never had to leave.”
Wade raised his left eyebrow.
She sighed. “It’s not my fault he’d rather run than fight. I’m willing to take him on.”
“Are you? He says the problem is you don’t fight.” Concern darkened his eyes. “You already lost Liam. Don’t lose each other.”
Boston managed not to flinch at the sound of her son’s name. “I can’t be lost,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady so Wade wouldn’t guess the truth. “I will love Zeke until I die. As to the rest of it, did he tell you what he said?”
Wade looked at her. “He’s not wrong, Boston. Having another baby...”
She scrambled to her feet and shook her head. “Stop it. You don’t get to say that. You have a daughter. She’s beautiful and healthy and you don’t get to tell me when I should be ready.” She took a step back, then another.
Wade held up both his hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t get to say. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
She drew in a breath. Wade moved close and wrapped his arms around her. She settled into the comfort—a silent acceptance of his apology. Her brother-in-law kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t be mad at him. He loves you. I love you, too. Just, you know, not like that.”
It was an old joke—a familiar one. Comfortable. She closed her eyes and nodded. “I don’t love you like that, either. Send him home. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“If he’s here, I can torture him more thoroughly.”
“That’s my girl.” He released her. “I’m taking over the Gordon job.”
“The house next door? Not Zeke?”
“He and I decided I was more suited to the project.”
She looked up at Wade and raised her eyebrows. “Of course you did. I’m sure it was a long, thoughtful conversation and had nothing to do with the fact that Andi Gordon is pretty, single and has a great butt.”
“My work is pain. I do what I can.”
“You’re a complete and total dog.”
“Not really, but I do want to check out the new neighbor.” He winked. “I have an appointment first thing in the morning. Wish me luck.”
“No, and send my husband home.”
Wade waved his agreement and started toward his truck. Boston returned to her planting.
Zeke would return and they would talk and life would go on. At some point he would have to accept that she wasn’t ready for the next step—that her heart had been torn in so many pieces it might never be whole. People healed in different ways and at different speeds. She was fine with him having already moved on. She almost wished she could be like him. Almost. Because the truth was, not letting go allowed her to keep her baby close. In her pain, Liam was always with her. Exactly where he belonged.
* * *
Deanna wasn’t sure how long she sat in the park. When she finally forced herself to move, she was shivering. Perhaps from the cooling temperatures or perhaps from something deep inside herself.
Colin’s words continued to batter her. As she stood, she felt blood seeping from wounds no one else could see.
He was wrong, she told herself as she made her way back to her SUV. How could he think that about her? She loved her children. She devoted her life to her family. She had nothing for herself. She was defined by her relationships, by her love for them.
She started the engine and slowly drove back to her house. As she made a turn, the folder slipped off the seat and papers scattered on the passenger-side carpet.
She’d been so sure, she thought bitterly. So prepared. She’d known what she was going to say, going to demand. Now she was left scrambling, unable to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.
Humiliation seared through her, making her skin burn. Had he talked to the girls about this? Did they all know what had happened? She would expect Madison to be gleeful, but the other girls, the younger ones, the twins, they were her babies. They loved her. She was their mother.
But Deanna realized she was less sure than she had been an hour ago. It was as if someone had picked up her entire world and shaken it before putting it down again. While everything was where it was supposed to be, the seams weren’t straight and the edges didn’t line up.
She turned at the corner and started up the last hill. The three houses, the Three Sisters, came into view. The sight of hers, so beautifully restored, usually calmed her, but not today. Not now.
Apparently she hadn’t sat in the park as long as she’d thought because Colin was still in the driveway. All five girls crowded around him, hugging and talking, each struggling to be the one who carried his suitcase.
She slowed, then came to a stop in the street and watched as her children smiled at their father. They were so happy to see him. She could hear their excited voices and their laughter. They practically danced for him.
A few days ago, the scene would have filled her with contentment and pride. So many fathers weren’t interested in their children, but not Colin. He’d always been involved with the girls. Now she understood that he’d had a plan all along. A desire to take everything from her. To hurt her.
Deanna waited until they’d all gone inside, then parked next to his car and went into the house. Loud conversation came from the kitchen as each of Colin’s daughters vied for his attention. She took the stairs up to their bedroom and closed the door.
She leaned against the sturdy wood and struggled to keep breathing. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. Wouldn’t let him know he’d gotten to her.
She crossed to the bed and grabbed one of the corner posts. She held on, gasping for air.
The unfairness made her want to scream. She’d sacrificed everything for Colin. Had created this perfect life he now complained about. She was a good mother. She was! How dare he judge her? He got to leave every week. She took care of all the details, she had to manage every crisis, while he got to come and go as he pleased. He was always the returning hero. She was the parent who reminded the children to brush their teeth.
Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. She hung on to the carved wood with both hands, digging her nails into the varnished surface. Hatred filled her. Resentment and anger blended into a poison.
Damn him, she thought viciously. Damn them all.
Chapter Four
ANDI STOOD IN front of the coffeepot. “Come on,” she murmured. “Hurry. I’m seriously desperate.”
Water gurgled over grounds, then dripped out as dark, magic elixir. Andi held her mug where the carafe usually sat and waited until the cup nearly overflowed, then expertly put the carafe back in place and took her first sip.
Life, she thought happily, the hot, caffeinated liquid slipping down her throat. Life and promise and a gradual easing of the sleepy dullness blanketing her brain.
She pushed her hair out of her face and tried to remind herself that she loved the house. She’d uprooted her life for a reason that had seemed very compelling at the time.
“More coffee,” she said aloud. “Then I’ll remember why I thought this was a good idea.”
She crossed the attic floor and stared out the window. She might be living in tight quarters, but she sure couldn’t complain about the view. From up here, she could see across the whole west half of the island. Beyond that the sound sparkled in bright morning sun. Right now, coffee in hand and nothing horrifying dive-bombing her head, she could see the potential. At three in the morning, not so much.
A truck pulled into her driveway. She glanced down, wondering who could be visiting her at eight on Saturday morning. It wasn’t as if...
“Crap,” she said, putting her coffee on the windowsill and glancing down at the oversized T-shirt she slept in. “Double crap.”
Zeke, her contractor. They had an appointment. Something she would have remembered if she’d had more than four hours of sleep in the past three nights.
She ripped off her T-shirt, pulled on jeans and fastened up a bra. After grabbing the same shirt she’d worn yesterday, she shoved her feet into sandals and hurried down the stairs. She paused at the second-story landing long enough to pull the shirt on and smooth it into place.
Aware that she hadn’t showered since she’d arrived and that her hair looked like something out of Halloween 5, she was grateful she’d at least brushed her teeth. Civilization required standards. Hers might not be especially high, but at least she’d kept some.
She jumped down the last three stairs and headed for the door at a run. She pulled it open just before Zeke knocked.
“Seriously,” she said with a laugh. “You drove? You live—”
Next door. The words stayed on her tongue as her jaw dropped open. Because the guy standing in front of her wasn’t Zeke King, her contractor and neighbor.
Zeke was tall, with dark hair and a nice smile. Good looking, she supposed. But even if that exact description could be used for the man standing in front of her, nothing about them was the same.
While his height was probably within a half inch of Zeke, he looked taller. His hair was darker, his smile brighter. Sexier, she thought, carefully closing her mouth and wishing desperately she’d showered and put on makeup. Maybe that great suit that made her look as if she actually had curves and hey, boobs.
“Morning,” the man said, his voice low and smoky.
Her unpainted toes curled ever so slightly.
“You must be Andi Gordon. I’m Wade King. Zeke’s brother.”
Zeke had a brother?
There were a few lines by Wade’s eyes, and the planes of his face were more sculptured. She would guess he was older than Zeke by a couple of years. If she hadn’t spent the past decade getting her heart trampled by a no-good jerk who’d left her at the altar and then had married his secretary two weeks later, she just might have wondered if Wade was single.
“Andi?”
“What? Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not all here. Come on in.”
She stepped back to allow him entry into the house.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You said you’re not all here.”
“Oh, right. Lack of sleep. I have bats.”
Wade laughed.
She suddenly found him slightly less sexy. “I’m not kidding. I have bats and no hot water. When I’m awake I’d say the lack of hot water is the bigger problem, but flying rodents are keeping me up at night.”
He dropped his worn backpack onto the dusty floor. “You really hate bats.”
“I hate anything that flies into my hair at three in the morning. I’ve been beating them back with a broom.”
“I’d pay money to see that.”
“I’d pay money to get them gone. Do you know the percentage of bats that carry rabies?”
