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“How is Diana?”
“Good. Bored, though, now that her two oldest are in college. Keeps making noises about going back to work. But anyway,” he said as the kids tromped up the porch steps, looking a little flushed but otherwise none the worse for wear, “we should get going.”
“C’n we get something to drink first?” Wes panted out.
“It’s five blocks, you can’t wait?”
The kid pantomimed clutching his throat, as if he’d been on a fifty-mile hike in the desert, and Bree smothered a laugh. Clearly eating it up, Wes grinned, then did his poor puppy dog face. “Man, I would kill for some Gatorade right now.”
“There’s tea and juice in the fridge,” the Colonel said. “Help yourself. Although in my day,” he said, shepherding them back inside, “we made do with drinking from the hose...”
Bree chuckled again as Cole’s phone buzzed—a text from his sister, wondering where they were. “You really shouldn’t encourage him,” he said, pocketing the phone.
“Pop?”
“No. Wes. Kid’s a master manipulator.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember somebody else like that.” She shoved her hair behind her ear. Flashed a smile. “This was nice, catching up.”
“Sure.”
Her eyes shadowed for a moment. “So...I’ll be seeing you guys again?”
“Maybe.” Because if he said no, then he’d have to explain why. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he could. “How long are you staying?”
Although her smile stayed put, the shadow darkened. “Not sure—”
“Dad!” Brooke burst back on to the porch, holding out her phone. “Aunt Di says if we don’t get over there right now—”
“You guys go on, tell her we’re on our way.”
But when he turned back around, Bree had wandered out into the yard to sit on one of the swings on the old play set, looking like the world’s most lost little girl as she stared off into space.
And Cole stood there far longer than he should have, watching her.
Full plate, he reminded himself, then turned to leave, telling himself the image would fade.
Eventually.
Chapter Two (#ulink_b2fc6ecf-2bfc-56f0-95e2-9afb866af0cb)
Her underwear dumped into the top drawer of her old dresser, Sabrina shoved it closed and sighed, missing Mom—who would have been right there with her, if not tucking things into drawers and hanging up stuff in the closet, at least sitting on the foot of the bed, listening, eyes soft with sympathy or bright with anger. Honestly—Sabrina zipped up the empty case and rammed it underneath the twin bed—more and more, her life felt like some artsy foreign film where bizarre crap kept happening but you had no idea why. And a happy ending was not a given. Chad used to drag her to those. And she’d go and pretend to enjoy them for his sake, but mostly she was just Huh?
Take the past twenty-four hours, for instance. As if having her future ripped from her in the space of a single conversation wasn’t bad enough, then to run into Cole Rayburn, of all people. After which they’d had this perfectly normal, totally weird conversation, as though nothing had happened.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. There’d definitely been some heavy-duty skirting of the truth going on. Some people might call that civilized and mature. Because it was ancient history and all that. Except...this was Cole and her.
For whatever that was worth.
Which would be not a whole lot, Sabrina thought, starting downstairs. Dude obviously had his hands full. And, yes, that was her heart squeezing inside her chest, especially when she thought about his kids...
She released another breath. Only so much multitasking her poor brain could handle right now.
Through the open patio door, the scent of charbroiled meat floated in from the deck where Pop was grilling. Stalling, she got a diet soda out of the French-door fridge in the recently remodeled kitchen, all stainless steel and sparkly white quartz and cherrywood cabinets. Very pretty. Still, she missed the homeyness of the old seventies decor, the knotty pine and faux brick, the old gouged table where they’d eaten, done homework, spilled their guts to Mom. Even the kids who’d only been passing through.
The family room, however, she thought, popping the can’s tab as she peeked in the room, still bore the scars of having been a family room in every sense of the word. Probably one reason why the house was still on the market. The kitchen showed well, sure, but the rest of the house...not so much. Especially to buyers with no desire to take on a fixer-upper, even if most of the work was cosmetic. True, Pop had impulsively donated Mom’s vast, and eclectic, book collection to the library some months before. But since he hadn’t moved any further in that direction, Sabrina could only assume—since they’d never discussed it—that the action had paralyzed him instead of propelling him forward.
She tilted the can to her lips, remembering the beehive of activity this house had once been, of noisy meals and fights for the bathroom and never-ending chore lists, usually overseen by the man currently grilling their dinner. Now only an eerie stillness remained, a thousand memories whispering like ghosts every time Sabrina returned. For all she’d chomped at the bit to escape more than a decade before, seeing it this way—like a dying person halfway between this world and the next—made her very sad.
Sadder, anyway.
The can clutched to her chest, she finally went outside, smiling for her father.
“Smells great.”
Standing at the grill, Pop glanced over, then said, “All unpacked?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Good,” he said, not looking at her, and her eyes filled. Because all she wanted, she realized, was a hug.
Dumb.
She’d wondered sometimes, how, with their polar opposite natures, her parents had ever gotten together. Let alone enjoyed the kind of marriage that textbooks could point to and say, This. Mom had been the one who’d wrap Sabrina in her warm embrace, doing all the talking for both of them during those first few weeks after she and Matt had arrived and Sabrina wouldn’t, or couldn’t, find her words. The Colonel, however, hadn’t seemed to know what to do with the frightened little girl clinging to her grief like a tattered teddy bear. Oh, Sabrina eventually figured out that, despite his more reserved nature, Pop cared fiercely about every child in his care, that fostering had been his idea. There was no better man on earth. But sometimes Sabrina felt as if their initial interaction—or lack of one—had set the tone for their entire relationship.
That even after all these years, she still had no idea how to close the gap between them.
“Got some vegetable kebabs from the store to go with the burgers,” he said. “That okay?”
“Sure.”
Fragrant smoke billowed out when he lifted the lid to the grill, frowning again in her direction. “Sorry to spring Cole and the kids on you like that. If I’d known you were coming—”
“No, it’s okay. I should’ve warned you.”
Pop had known, of course, that things had fallen apart between her and Cole their senior year. Just not why. God willing, he never would.
“Always did like that boy,” Pop now said, flipping the burgers. “Missed him hanging around.”
“So you ran into him and invited him over.”
Shooting her another curious look, Pop closed the lid to the grill again. “For more than five years that kid was over here more than he was at his own house. Seemed like it, anyway. Invitation was out of my mouth before I even knew it was there.” He crossed his arms. “Couple of smart kids he’s got there.”
“So Cole said,” Sabrina said, walking to the edge of the deck jutting out into the large yard off the porch. Shards of dying, early evening sun sliced through the pine trees on one side of the yard, gilding the new grass and her mother’s prodigiously blooming rosebushes. A robin darted, stopped, darted again across the lawn, ignoring the chattering of an unseen squirrel nearby. Images flashed, of badminton and croquet games, of running through the sprinklers. That old Slip ’N Slide. Fireflies. Of lying in the grass on summer evenings, her and Cole and Kelly...
“You gonna go see the baby tonight?”
Releasing a breath, Sabrina turned, bracing her hands on the deck railing behind her and refusing to feel sorry for herself, that Matt was married and her younger brother, Tyler, was going to be in a week, that even her oldest brother, Ethan, had found love again after losing his wife three years ago. That things seemed to be working out fine for everyone but her.
Not that she hadn’t tried—
Okay, maybe that not-feeling-sorry-for-herself thing wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped.
“Tomorrow, maybe. It’ll be too late after dinner. They’ll be wanting to get the little one down, I imagine.”
Her father shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “So you gonna tell me what happened, or are we playing twenty questions?”
Sabrina smirked. “Wondered when you were going to ask.”
“Didn’t want to push.”
She held up her left hand, naked except for the imprint of the ring that had been there only yesterday. “Not that you haven’t already figured it out.”
“It was his boy, wasn’t it?”
Her vision blurred, Sabrina nodded. Chad didn’t have his six-year-old son very often—his ex had moved to the West Coast for work, and Robbie went with her—meaning the child wanted Daddy to himself when he did see him. Not that Sabrina blamed him.
“I couldn’t stand seeing the kid so miserable, Pop.”
“So you broke it off.”
“It was a mutual decision.”
“And the child was six. He would have gotten over it.”
From anyone else, her father’s words might have sounded callous. Uncaring. Except Sabrina knew the remark came from a place of deep love for kids. All kids. Which only made it harder to hear.
“You think I gave up.”
She nearly choked when her father walked over, wrapped her in his arms. For maybe two seconds, but still. Holy crap.
He let her go to return to the grill, scraping burgers on to a nearby plate before giving her a hard stare. “I wasn’t there, I have no idea what went on between you. But I know you,” he said, jabbing the spatula in her direction. “I know how good you are with kids. How crazy they are about you. So whatever was going on...” He lowered the lid again. “Not your fault.”
“Yeah, well, you also never liked Chad.”
“Only because I never felt he was worthy of you.”
“What? You never said that—”
“Didn’t have to, did I?”
“Chad’s a good man, Pop. Jeez, give me some credit.” He slanted a look in her direction, and her face warmed. “My point is, this wasn’t about me and Chad, it was about me and his little boy—”
“And that was his father’s issue to address, not yours. And if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do that...” His eyes narrowed. “Did he even try to fix the problem?”
“To be honest...” Her mouth twisted. “He looked...relieved.”
He jabbed the spatula at her again. Point made. “Sounds to me like he’s the one who gave up. You also have no idea what the kid’s mother was putting in his head about you.”
Actually, considering some of the things the child had said to her, she had a pretty good idea. But no need to add fuel to that fire.
Pop’s gaze softened. Marginally. “All I want is for you to be happy. Trust me, wouldn’t have happened for you with that guy. Not in the long run. Because eventually you would have lost out to the kid. Which you obviously knew, or you wouldn’t have ended it. Right?”
You know, there was a reason she’d left home. And not only because small-town Jersey was suffocating her. That the man spoke the truth—yet again—was beside the point.
Pop plated the kebabs, setting both them and the burgers on the table. “So I take it you’re staying for a while?”
“A few weeks, maybe,” Sabrina said, sitting across from him and spearing the smallest burger. “Until I...get my bearings again. That okay?”
“Like you have to ask. As long as I still have the house, anyway.” He glanced over again. “No bun?”
“Carbs, Pop.”
Shaking his head, he took a bite of his own burger, his gaze drifting out to the yard. Sabrina could probably guess what he was thinking. Or rather, who he was thinking about. Not looking at Pop, she slowly pulled off a piece of pineapple from her skewer and asked, “You ever think about dating again?”
After a long moment, she looked up to meet his glare. Bingo.
“And what would be the point of that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s about going to a movie or out to dinner with someone not related to you? Might be fun. You should try it.”
One side of his mouth pulled up. Sort of. “This you not wanting to whine about your own problems?”
“You bet. So?”
Her father took another bite of his burger. “Seems like it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. Especially at my age.”
“So what’re you going to do with the next twenty or thirty years, Methuselah? Watch TV all day?”
“And maybe after all those years of taking care of everybody else, all I want to do is watch TV.”
“Not buying it. Sorry.”
“I’m good with things the way they are, thank you. Once I get out of this house...”
His voice once more trailing off, Pop glanced around, almost as if he didn’t recognize the place, before facing Sabrina again...and she saw in his eyes the depth of his loss in a way she never had before, prompting her to lean over to lay her hand on his wrist. Pushing out a sigh, Pop covered her hand with his own.
“You know, I lost track of how many times we moved, when I was on active duty. The number of places we lived. Far as I was concerned they were only places to sleep, way stations between assignments. But this...” He looked around again. “This was home. Where we raised all you kids. I know I don’t need it anymore. Have known for some time. And I plunked down my deposit on a one-bedroom unit at Sunridge last month—”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Nobody does. Didn’t want you all hounding me.”
“Pop. You decided to sell. Months ago—”
“And at the time, I thought I was good with that decision. And in here,” he said, tapping his head, “I still am.” Then he palmed his heart. “In here is another story.”
“Which is why, I assume, you’re dragging your heels about giving the place a face-lift.”
