SHE REGRETTED NOT grabbing a cart about halfway along the winding road leading past her house that ended at the Cameron cabin. It was hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night, and the last thing Tori needed to be doing was hiking in the blazing summer sun.
Nickel night at a whorehouse. My god. More country sayings peppered her language than could be found in the Urban Dictionary.
Stopping to catch her breath, she looked around to make sure no critters were lurking and sat perched on a bumpy rock along the side of the road. Swiping her arm across her forehead, Tori grimaced at the amount of sweat and mentally cringed knowing she was breaking one of the cardinal rules of desert life. Never go outside without a water bottle.
A friggin hat and some more sunscreen might help, too.
She held a hand to her brow for shade and watched a bird float effortlessly through the air. For a second, she wished to be the bird. Weightless. Sailing along on a breeze, high above the scenery where a clearer vision of what lay ahead was possible.
What lay ahead.
A sigh rumbled up from her chest as the world came crashing down around her feet.
“This is all wrong,” she wailed aloud as a burst of clarity broke around her.
This isn’t who I am, she thought.
She wasn’t the type to be passive and simply let life happen. That wasn’t her at all. She’d faced down a foreign country’s entire financial system and barely blinked an eye because wrong is wrong and she’d been raised believing that.
All of a sudden, she saw herself in a less than flattering light. She’d been a certified agent of chaos almost from the minute Tori realized she was pregnant. And then after Daniel’s birth—no use in pretending she bounced back. Pfft. She was bouncing, all right, but none of the frantic boomeranging led anywhere close to being normal. Thinking she’d just power through and magically wake up one day and have all this be in the past hadn’t worked one little bit.
“Oh, my god,” she groaned. I jumped off the side of a building. She wasn’t normally a daredevil. Where was her sense?
She didn’t have any. If she did, building jumps and marching along in the desert sun without any protection wouldn’t be happening.
And then there were the mood swings. She was like a jumping bean. One minute, nothing, and then, the next, pop! When she thought about it, Tori had to concede she’d been going up and down more times than a busy elevator at rush hour.
None of this was her. None of it.
She then saw her unusual behavior through her husband’s eyes. Having a half-crazed, manic, unglued, emotional basket case for a wife wasn’t what she intended for them or what he’d signed on for.
Something had to be done. Whoever or whatever Carol represented had everything to do with all the things she just checked off.
Draegyn St. John, the arrogant, clueless shit, was her fucking husband, and she was done with being stupid.
Hauling herself up from the rock, she brushed off her ass and set off at a reasonable pace. Just a little further and she’d suck down a ton of water and have a heart-to-heart with Lacey.
Maybe her Justice sister was right. Tori’s cycle had always been a crapshoot, so it made sense that the problem might be as simple as whacked-out hormones. A good doctor could help straighten her out. A doctor offering healthy alternatives because doing nothing wasn’t working.
Wasn’t working at all.
The doorbell rang, startling Lacey. She was expecting Tori any minute, but no one in the family bothered with formalities like doorbells. Or knocking.
“Wonder who that could be,” she said to Dylan as she plucked him off the floor, settled him on her hip, and headed to the front door.
“What do you think, hmm? Think it’s Daddy?”
She instantly regretted her foolish words when Dylan rocked eagerly in her arms and said, “Da da da.”
Her heart sank. Cameron. She missed him so much it was taking a physical toll. Staying strong for him was all she thought about, twenty-four-seven. Her husband was counting on her not to fall apart, but a couple of days had turned into a couple of weeks, and now, it was mid-August and still no word from her man.
A shadow moved across the glass above the front door. She opened it slowly, praying for the surprise her heart yearned for, but it was just the FedEx guy with a package under his arm.
Dylan seemed disappointed as she signed for the package. He had most of the fingers on one hand crammed into his mouth as his other little hand smacked her arm. She took the package, waved the delivery guy off, and went back to the cool interior of the cabin.
Shaking it like a kid on Christmas morning looking for a clue, she smiled at the baby and made a face. “Don’t hear anything.” She shook it close to his head and asked, “Do you hear anything?”
“Da da da.”
“You and me both, little man. You and me both.”
In the big open living room, she set Dylan down, handed him a toy, and sank to her butt beside him. She inspected the package for clues. The return address was foreign and taped to the box was a custom’s form. The address label was computer printed. No handwriting anywhere.
Carefully opening the package, she found a small pink box inside tied with a black ribbon. An embossed design in one corner resembled a dressmaker’s form. Curious, she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Pushing aside a layer of tissue paper covered with the logo, she gasped when her eyes saw the contents.
Her lip began to tremble, and tears stung her eyes and nose. A stack of plain white panties, expensive and beautiful but absolutely plain met her gaze.
White panties—sensible, plain white panties were a thing between her and Cameron. Ever since he admitted spying on Lacey in the ladies’ restroom of the run-down diner where he first saw her and finding her lamenting the damage done to her undies by period stains as she washed her meager belongings in the public bathroom’s sink, the plain panties became a symbol of a different time.
Lacey ran her fingers back and forth across the scar she carried on her arm. The scar was a result of Cameron stitching her up after a couple of thugs jumped her in an alley, and she’d ended up with a serious gash. It was how they met. She found it so amusing that the first time he’d heard her voice, she was bitching about her period, and the first time she laid eyes on him was two seconds before she passed out in an alleyway as a brooding knight loomed over her.
The anonymous gift was a message from Cameron. She was sure of it. Actually, there was no doubt whatsoever. The emotionally significant present was his way of communicating with her. Reminding Lacey of how they met. That meant he was all right. And thinking about her.
Reverently and soberly, she rearranged the package contents, smoothed the delicate tissue back into place, dropped the black ribbon on top, and slipped the lid on.
Rocking from her butt onto her knees, she kissed Dylan’s forehead and stood up. Everything—the box, the FedEx wrapping, all of it— was stashed in a cabinet. Satisfied that she’d kept everything intact, she turned around and nearly fell face-first when a crawling baby appeared at her feet.
A burble of happy laughter rang out. Not only was her son faster than The Flash when he was on the go, but he had crazy stealth abilities too. She swooped down and picked him up, swinging the laughing baby in a wide circle.
“Toe, toe,” he chirped happily, bringing her spinning to a halt because there, just inside the front door, stood Tori wearing a serious frown as sweat poured down her face.
“Oh, my word, Victoria! Are you okay?”
“Water,” she choked out and bolted for the kitchen.
Lacey quickly followed. She deposited Dylan in his highchair and handed him some toys then went to see about Tori, who was standing in front of a little fan on the counter and chugging down a bottle of Dasani.
“Sweetie, did you walk down here?”
“Uh-huh.” After a few more loud sips, the bottle was drained; she crushed it dramatically, replaced the cap, and tossed it in a perfect arc that ended with the crumpled plastic landing squarely in the recycling bin. She raised her arms and croaked, “Score!”
Dylan cheered her on by waving his hands in the air and laughing. “Toe, toe.” The scene was cute and everything, but Tori’s face was practically scarlet, and she was sporting large damp spots on her shirt.
“Jeez, sit down,” Lacey snapped. Shoving a chair directly underneath her butt, she pushed Tori down and gave her a hand towel. “What the hell is wrong with you?” The uncharacteristic profanity, although mild, earned her an arched brow and a sheepish grimace.
“I know. Don’t yell, okay?”
She didn’t say anything for a minute and then crouched down beside her friend. “Tori. Please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me. You know better. What if you had heatstroke on your way here? Oh, my god.” Lacey put a hand to her throat—a sign of distress. “You could have lain on the road for hours before anyone found you.”
In seconds, her friend swayed on her seat and fell into Lacey’s arms as broken sobs tore from her throat.
“Sweetie, sweetie,” she cooed. Holding on tight, she made soothing circles on Tori’s back and tried to calm her down. “Take a deep breath. That’s it,” she encouraged when the sobbing woman tried to reel it in.
“I need help.”
Tori made the simple plea and sat up, wiping her hand across her blotchy face as tears left tracks on her cheeks. She looked so miserable and forlorn that Lacey had a hard time keeping it together.
Victoria Bennett St. John was her touchstone. The first real girlfriend she’d ever had, they’d bonded instantly when Tori first came on the scene. To see a woman she knew to be a rock so completely undone was unsettling.
“What kind of help? Tell me what you need and I’m there.”
Sniffling as a trembling hand rubbed back and forth under her nose, Tori tried to speak but couldn’t. Lacey reached for her hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
There was some head nodding, a couple of heavy swallows, some more sniffling, and finally, her friend found a voice.
“Do you think something’s wrong with me?”
“What do you mean? Wrong, how?”
Tori looked at Dylan for a long time. “You never even flinched when he was born.”
“Can’t argue there. I was blessed. But you know, just because I had an easy time of it doesn’t mean you got the short end of the stick. Some pregnancies are just difficult. Period. Doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you.”
“I know that rationally.” Tori shrugged. Deep lines of worry appeared between her eyes. “But being rational isn’t my strong suit these days.”
“So tell me what you think the problem is. Let me try and help.”
“Oh god, Lace,” Tori moaned. “It’s all such a mess, and now, well, now, it’s not just me acting strangely.”
“Drae?”
The small nod Tori made was painful. To give and to watch. Shit. This was one time when a cavalcade of pithy words and phrases came to mind.
Lacey sighed, stood up, and grabbed a chair so she could sit beside her friend. “Start at the beginning.”
Once the seal was cracked, it all came pouring out. Tori hated talking about personal stuff involving her husband. Like Lacey and Meghan too, she was fiercely protective of Drae’s privacy, but in this case, the situation called for brutal honesty.
Tori laid it all out. The intimacy issues began when she was hugely pregnant. After Daniel was born, the shitshow of his birth left her in fragile shape. She was overwhelmed every second of every day but never said anything. Loving the baby as she did and being an adoring wife was the only thing she had to anchor her. And then their sex life became a circus sideshow.
Lacey wanted to cry as the story tumbled out. Poor Tori. She’d been struggling all this time needlessly.
Then there was Drae. He was wonderful. Fantastic. Supportive. Loving. Amazing. So proud of her and his son. Thrilled to be a father. He’d walk over hot coals for his family.
Lacey was secretly glad to hear this. As an outsider, a close one but still on the outside looking in, she’d seen all those things with Drae and wanted them to be real.
But according to Victoria, he was also overly polite and restrained. The man’s self-control was legendary, but recently, the trait crept into the bedroom. He was still attentive and loving, seeing to his wife’s needs, but she felt he was holding back. And from what Tori was so desperately trying to explain, she was reading his caution as troubling. Deeply troubling.
“If you tell me you think he’s cheating, I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap.”
Tori turned frightened eyes her way. Oh, my god. That WAS what she was thinking.
“I don’t think he’s cheating. But something is going on. And I can’t even blame him, Lacey,” she moaned miserably. “Living with me is like a carnival ride. I’m up. I’m down. Some days, I want to cry all day, and others, it’s like I’m at a comedy show. And him. Jesus. He won’t touch me without an industrial-size box of condoms always at the ready. What the hell is that all about? And now, well, shit. Now, I’m doing all sorts of stupid, dangerous stuff. Like walking down here without water. It’s as if my mind goes on vacation.”
“Will you please let me hook you up with a holistic doctor my OB/GYN recommended? Please?” She took both Tori’s hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe it’s all hormones and just being out of whack.”
“I wish Meghan would come home.”
“Seems to be a lot of that going around.”
She watched while Tori bit her lip and made a sheepish face. “I did a bad.”
Uh-oh. Chuckling, Lacey asked, “What did you do now?”
With a finger raised to her lips, Tori said, “Shh! Don’t tell but I had a bit of a freak-out and ended up calling the Major.”
Whoa. “Seriously? Did you reach him? What did he say? When are they coming home? Does he know about Cameron?”
“Easy there, speed racer. No answers. Left a message. That’s all.”
“A message?” Humph. “What sort of message?”
“Basically”—Tori shrugged with an adorable blush—“I boohooed like a baby and pleaded with him to come the fuck home.”
Running a hand across her belly, she sat back hard in the chair and considered this piece of information. September was looming, and Justice fired back up to full operating capacity right after Labor Day. Surely, they’d be here for that.
She certainly hoped so. With Cameron’s continued absence, she was having a hard time handling some things by herself. If she couldn’t turn to her husband, Lacey needed Alex first and Meghan second.
“Well, let’s start with getting you sorted out, and hopefully, they’ll be home before we know it.”
“And things can get back to normal.”
Normal. Normal would be good. But with everything going on, Lacey suspected they were all about to get a crash course in a new normal.