Chapter Fourteen
She’d left because she’d had to.
Not because she had to get to the hospital. Which she did. Not because Granddad was waiting for her to return to the shop. He wasn’t.
No. She’d left because if she’d stood on Vera’s porch for one more second, she’d have done something stupid.
Like . . .
Smooth the frown line from between Jax’s brows.
Knead the tension from his shoulders.
Run her hand over his thick blond hair.
Press her lips to his. Not just because she wanted to kiss him, but because she wanted to see if what she’d felt before was as earth-shattering as it had seemed.
“That,” she muttered, “would have been really stupid.”
“What?”
She whirled around, realized that Jax was right behind her.
“God! You scared me!”
“Sorry.” He still had the chocolates in his hand, and he was still frowning. “I wasn’t being all that quiet.”
“My thoughts were pretty loud. They probably masked the sound of your footsteps.”
He smiled at that. “What were you thinking about?”
“You.” She answered honestly, because she didn’t see any reason to deny it.
“Were they good thoughts?”
“Do you care?”
“Of course I care, Willow. That’s the whole damn problem,” he muttered, taking her arm and leading her toward Main Street.
“In that case, they were good thoughts.”
“Want to share one of them? I need a distraction.”
“From what?”
“You,” he said simply, and she laughed, because she thought it was a joke.
Only Jax wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He was watching her, his gaze skimming the navy dress she’d worn to work, the cute little boots she’d shoved her feet into before she’d walked to Vera’s place, the scarf she’d tossed around her neck. That all would have been just fine, except his gaze shifted to her face, settled on her lips. Just for a moment. Just long enough for Willow to remember the way it had felt to be in his arms.
“Maybe you should bring those chocolates to Vera,” she suggested, her pulse racing with a longing she had no business feeling. Not for a guy who’d made it very clear there’d never be more than right now.
“I would, but you said the bonbons were for me.”
“They are.”
“Then how about we share?” He veered to the right, cutting across Williamsburg Lane and out onto School Run. The elementary school was at the corner of the street. Empty now, the windows dark.
They bypassed the building, walking across the blacktop and then into grass still wet from the day’s rain. She didn’t ask where they were going. She almost didn’t need to know. She was with Jax, and as dangerous as the darkness seemed, as alarming as the shadowy alcoves of the doors and windows, she felt . . .
Safe?
That surprised her, and she would have rolled it around in her head for a while, tried to decide what it meant, but the schoolyard was straight ahead, the old swing set still exactly the same as it had been when she attended school there.
“Remember playing here when you were a kid?” Jax asked as he pulled her down onto a bench that faced the playground.
“How could I not? We all lived for recess. It was the one time we got to run around and act like lunatics.” She eyed the old swing set, the metal slide, the old-fashioned monkey bars. “I bet this thing was put in in the fifties. There’s probably some code the school is violating by keeping it up.”
“Probably.”
“I didn’t notice how old it was when I was a kid. I didn’t notice how small it was, either.”
“I’m pretty sure the slide was at least fifteen feet tall the year I got here. Now it looks more like four.” He opened the box, handed her one of the bonbons, and then popped one in his mouth.
“What are we doing, Jax?” she asked, putting hers back in the box. She wasn’t hungry. Not for chocolates. She’d taste-tested about sixteen pounds of fudge in the last few days, and she’d had about all she could take of candy.
“Sitting on a bench. Sharing a treat.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, lifting another chocolate and eating it.
That was it.
Just maybe.
“I missed seeing you this week,” she said quietly, telling another truth. One she didn’t think he wanted to hear.
He didn’t respond, just set the box on the bench and stood.
When he held out his hand, she took it, and when he pulled her into his arms, she went willingly.
There was no kiss.
No warm caress.
Just Jax, swaying to a rhythm that only he could hear.
She didn’t question it, just let herself move with him, her head pressed to his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath her ear.
They were dancing in the moonlight without music, and she didn’t think there’d ever been a moment so beautiful. If it could have lasted forever, she would have let it, but life was waiting beyond the moonlight and the wet grass and the old-fashioned swing set.
“Jax,” she said, and the moment was broken, the dance finished.
He stilled, and she thought he’d step away, but his hands moved from her back to her shoulder and then to her face. Warm palms to her cool cheeks, and his lips pressed to hers in a tender, soul-searing kiss.
She wanted to cry from the beauty of it.
She wanted to cry because she thought that was all there would ever be. Just that one silent dance and that last beautiful kiss.
She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t, because this wasn’t a tragedy. It was a bump in the road, a little dip in the smooth path she’d thought she’d be on after she’d left Ken.
“I need to get to the hospital,” she said, her voice husky with longing and with tears.
She’d spent years searching for peace. She’d spent a lifetime searching for solace. She’d found it in Jax’s arms, but she wasn’t going to beg him to give her more than he could.
“I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you to do it,” she said, and he raised a brow.
“No?”
Yes!
That’s what she wanted to say. Of course she wanted him to come with her. Of course she wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted more dances and more kisses and more of everything she thought they could be together.
“I’ve got the infant car seat installed in my car. It’s a pain in the butt to get in properly, so it’s better if I just drive myself.”
“You’re upset,” he said, pulling the edges of her coat together, his fingers sliding along her nape as he tugged her hair from the back of it.
“I’m practical.”
“Meaning?”
“I want more than this, Jax. I’m not going to pretend I don’t.”
“That’s good, because I’m not into women who pretend.”
“And I’m not into relationships that aren’t going to be more than a few stolen kisses and a couple of dances in the moonlight.” She grabbed the chocolate, handed it to him. “I like you. A lot. If you want more than this, I’m all for it. Otherwise, let’s just call it a lifetime and say good-bye.”
He didn’t say a word.
She hadn’t expected him to.
But she’d hoped.
God! Had she ever hoped!
She walked back the way they’d come, knowing he was following her. She made it all the way to Main Street before he moved into step beside her, took her arm again, his fingers cupped lightly around her bicep.
“I keep telling myself to stay away from you, Willow. I keep listing all of the reasons why we’re not a good idea.”
“I figured that was the case.” She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to see the darkness in his eyes, the sadness of all his losses. She didn’t want to be pulled any deeper into his heart, because she knew she wasn’t going to be allowed to stay there.
“Did you also figure that I wouldn’t be able to stay away? That I wouldn’t be able to come up with one idea that wasn’t based on what-ifs and speculation?”
“Jax—”
“Look.” He turned to face her, holding her still when she would have walked away. “I know what you want. Promises that I’m willing to keep going with this, assurance that we’re not just going to have today or tomorrow. That there’s some bright and wonderful future out there for us.”
“I didn’t ask you for that.”
“But it is what you want.”
She wasn’t going to deny it, so she kept silent, waiting while he studied her face, touched her cheek, his fingers trailing down the column of her neck and resting near the hollow of her throat.
“See?” he said gently. “It is what you want, but every time I think about the future, I see the past. That’s my issue. Not yours. I’m working on it, but I can’t promise I’m going to be done anytime soon.”
“At least you’re honest,” she said, and he sighed.
“I didn’t follow you so that I could piss you off again.”
“I’m not pissed off.”
“Then what are you?”
“Hungry for something that doesn’t taste like chocolate, smell like chocolate, look like chocolate.” It was a cop-out, because she didn’t want to tell him that she was hurt. That she’d wanted to be enough to wipe out all the bad memories.
“We can stop somewhere on the way to the hospital,” he said as if they’d already agreed that he would go with her.
They hadn’t.
And he shouldn’t, but being with him was so much nicer than being alone.
“Don’t you need to bring the chocolates to Vera?”
“She’ll understand if they arrive a little late.”
“My grandfather won’t. He told me to bring them there stat.”
“He’ll understand too.”
They’d reached the shop.
Byron had already closed up for the night, and a lone light glowed above the door. Everything else was dark as pitch, the blackness behind the windows filled with monsters and memories.
Those were the things that kept her from walking away from Jax. Those were the things that allowed her to understand his reservations and his fear.
They were also the things she hated most.
She hurried past, knowing she was running and not caring. She wanted to get to her car, climb in, go find some real food. Eat enough to fill the emptiness.
Only she wasn’t sure it was her stomach that was empty.
The hollow ache seemed to be coming from somewhere in the region of her heart.
* * *
Jax jogged behind Willow as she sprinted through the alley, ran into the back lot, and jumped into her car. He figured the demons were chasing her, and he wanted to pull her to a stop, tell her to take a deep breath, and let them catch her.
Sometimes you had to face them down to be rid of them.
He knew that for a fact.
He also knew that saying anything would be about as hypocritical as claiming to be a teetotaler while guzzling one-hundred-proof vodka behind closed doors.
He had no right to talk.
Not when he’d just refused to tell her what she wanted to hear because of his demons. He was running from them still. Even after all these years. He wasn’t proud of that, but he’d been as honest as he could. He’d given what he could.
He’d wanted to give more.
He’d held her in the moonlight, felt her melting into him, and he’d known that if he’d allowed it, they could become something more than two people living separate lives. They could become us, we, them. Two people who were so connected, they finished each other’s sentences, felt each other’s joy and sorrow and pain. Needed each other as much as they’d ever needed anything or anyone.
Hell! That was already happening, and they weren’t even trying. Look at them now, getting in her car, heading off to get some food and then to pick up a baby who didn’t belong to either of them. They were drawn to each other despite their demons.
Or maybe because of them.
“What do you feel like eating?” Willow asked. She was trying to act like she hadn’t just run the hundred-meter dash, but her voice was shaking, her hand trembling as she shoved the key into the ignition.
He should have ignored both those things.
He should have just told her that he’d already eaten, and he wasn’t hungry, and that she could go wherever she wanted.
He touched her leg instead, that bit of thigh right above her knee, and his hand just . . . settled there, his palm resting against warm, silky fabric and firm, sinewy muscle.
“It’s okay,” he said, his thumb caressing the side of her knee.
She stilled, and he could feel the tension seeping out of her, the fear flying away.
“God!” she whispered. “How do you do that?”
“What?” He let his hand fall away, because if he didn’t, he’d do more than touch her thigh and caress her knee. If he didn’t, he’d be pulling her closer, and taking way more than one kiss.
“Make me forget all the things I’m afraid of.” She turned on the engine, pulled out of the parking lot, sighed. “Well? Where’s it going to be? Are you in the mood for burgers? Salad? Chicken?”
Her voice had gone from fearful to chipper, from sincere to fake. He knew the difference. Just like he knew when someone was feigning emotion she didn’t feel.
He wasn’t going to point it out.
They could play this game for a while. The one where they were just friends going out to dinner together.
“I already had meat loaf.”
“Did Vera cook?”
“If she hadn’t, it would have been canned soup.”
“What’d she make with it? Potatoes?”
“And string beans. Homemade rolls.”
“Tell me more,” she moaned as she pulled into the drive-thru at the Daily Grind. “Because I don’t have the energy to stop in the diner and get a real meal. I’m going to settle for coffee and a muffin.”
“I could run in the diner for you, or we could stop somewhere in Spokane. A fast-food place maybe. That way you wouldn’t have to get out of the car.”
“Bite your tongue, Jax.”
“You don’t eat fast food?”
“I did. Until River entered my sister’s life. Now I have been schooled on the value of a good meal, and convinced that fast food isn’t really food.”
“And coffee and muffins are?”
“Probably not, but they’re quick, and I need a pick-me-up that doesn’t include chocolate.” She placed her order. Two coffees. Two muffins. Blueberry. One shortbread cookie. No chocolate in any of it, but there sure as heck was plenty of caffeine and sugar.
“Planning to energy-up before bringing Miracle home?” he asked as she dug in her purse and pulled out the money to pay.
“You bet your life I am. But one cup of coffee should be enough. I don’t drink it that often.” She grabbed the cup carrier and a white bag from the barista. “One is for you. You’re looking a little tired.”
“Thanks?” he said.
“I didn’t say you didn’t also look good. Did you work graveyard again?”
“Yes. Did the dark circles give it away?”
“No. Alison did. She said court had been scheduled for the afternoon to accommodate your schedule. How did it go?”
“Court? About like I expected.”
“I don’t have any idea what to expect. I’m scheduled to give testimony next week. I hate to do it. Every time I think about the way Phoebe looked, sitting on the floor of the hospital . . .” She shook her head, handed him one of the muffins. “I keep telling myself she did something wrong, and she has to pay for it, but she looked like a little girl, and all I wanted to do was mother her.”
“She didn’t look any more mature at the courthouse today.”
“Were her parents there?”
“Were they supposed to be?”
“I was hoping they would be. Alison said she spent a half a day tracking them down. She thought Phoebe could use their support. The mother seemed like she might be willing to be there.”
“And I’m sure the father put an end to that idea. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d stand by his kids once they broke free of his control.”
“You met him?”
“Briefly. She’s better off with Clementine.”
“Was she in court too?”
“Different court date. I’m hoping the judge is lenient. She didn’t know Phoebe was going to abandon her baby, and she didn’t skip town when she found out that Phoebe was turning herself in. That’s what the two guys they were living with did.”
“Their husbands?”
“Elias and Phoebe were married. Supposedly.”
“They weren’t?”
“There’s no record of it. No marriage license. Nothing to prove it. I’m thinking Elias had his pastor perform the ceremony, but they didn’t get the state involved. Not that it matters. In Phoebe’s mind they’re married, and she can’t understand why Elias ran off.”
“I could answer that question for her,” she muttered, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s a coward.”
“Not in her eyes, Willow. In her eyes, he’s a hero. He helped her escape the fanatical control of her family. Now she’s expecting him to help her escape this.” He’d interviewed her. He’d heard all the childish assumptions and naïve beliefs. Elias had built himself up in her mind. Either that, or she’d done all the building up. Either way, she was going to be disappointed.
If Elias had been around, Jax would have been tempted to shake some sense into him. A young woman like Phoebe needed someone in her life who could help her understand how the world worked. Faith was great. Belief was wonderful. Having a relationship with God? That was the thing that had gotten Jax through some of his toughest times.
But . . .
A person shouldn’t be walking through life with blinders on. It was a really good way to get sideswiped.
“That’s sad,” Willow said.
“The whole thing is sad.” He sipped the coffee and held the muffin. He wasn’t in the mood for sweets. He was in the mood for Willow. Her soft skin and velvety lips, they were an addiction he needed to break.
So far, he hadn’t been successful.
“At least Miracle should be okay,” she said. “Unless I somehow screw up her care, and she isn’t.”
She hadn’t touched her coffee or the food, and he wondered if she was really as hungry as she’d said or if nerves had stolen her appetite.
“Are you nervous?”
“About bringing her home? Absolutely. I think anyone would be. That’s why I want to get to the hospital early. The nurse is going over a lot of the discharge instructions with Alison. Alison is planning to go over them with me.”
“But, you want to hear them firsthand?”
“It makes sense, right?”
He didn’t think she was actually looking for reassurance, but he gave it anyway. “Yes.”
“That’s what I thought. Of course, it’s not like I haven’t already had a ton of training. I know how to feed her. How to change her. How to change her bandages and make sure nothing is getting infected. I was given a packet yesterday. Pages of information about Miracle’s heart defect and the surgery and what to expect during the next stage of recovery.”
“You have help lined up, right?”
“Alison has everything on a spreadsheet. Nurse visits. Therapist visits.”
“For you or Miracle?”
“Probably me,” she said with a quiet laugh. “She’s worried that I’ll be overwhelmed taking care of a post-surgical infant.”
“Will you be?”
“I won’t know until I try.” She merged onto the highway, her face pale in the light from passing cars. She had high cheekbones like her sister Brenna, a sharp chin like her mother, and eyes that were as soft as her sister Adeline’s. The family resemblance was pretty incredible, and he tried to remember her father. Tried to see the resemblance to him in her face. Brent Lamont had had red hair. That’s about all he could remember. That and his kind smile.
“You’re staring,” she said quietly.
“Just thinking you look like your family.”
“Is that a compliment or a criticism?”
“Why does it have to be either?” He lifted the second coffee cup and handed it to her. “Drink your coffee, Willow. You’re looking tired.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, taking a quick sip and then returning it to the carrier.
“I didn’t say you didn’t also look good.”
She smiled, but her eyes were shadowed, her hands tight on the steering wheel.
“You’re still upset.”
“I’m just wondering what we’re doing, sitting in this car together, going to the hospital, pretending we’re friends.”
“Are we pretending?”
“Are we friends?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Jax, we can’t be alone together for two seconds without ending up in each other’s arms.”
“We could try harder.”
“Why would we want to?”
“You ask difficult questions.”
“I’m an attorney. It’s what I’m trained to do.” She was trying to keep it light, and he needed to let her, because that was what he wanted.
Or what he should want.
“How about we just take one day at a time, okay?”
“How about you hand me the shortbread cookie?” she countered. “And grab me a napkin, too. I don’t want to get crumbs all over my dress.”
“Who’s going to notice if you do?”
“Whatever press happens to be hanging around the hospital hoping for a picture.”
“They’re being kept outside. I talked to the Spokane County Sheriff’s Department, and they’ve got deputies at the hospital, making sure there aren’t any problems.” He gave her the cookie, looked in the bag for napkins. “Sorry. No napkins.”
“Check my purse. Front pocket. I usually have a package of tissue. That’ll work.”
“Most women don’t like other people digging through their purses,” he commented as he did what she asked.
“I’m not most women. Plus, there’s nothing in my purse but a wallet, tissue, emergency lipstick—”
“And a check for twenty thousand dollars,” he cut in, because he’d pulled out the package of tissue and the damn check was static clinging to its face. Folded, but he recognized the color and the size.
“I forgot I put that there.”
“Were you trying to forget it altogether?” He handed her a handful of tissue, and he tucked the check in his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“What you can’t. I’m going to call the guy who issued the check, and I’m going to find out what he wants.”
“Jax, I don’t need you to—”
“Right. You don’t. If we were friends, I’d take that into consideration. If we were lovers, I’d probably have already called. We’re not either, and I’m an officer of the law. This reeks of a payoff, and if it is, someone in Eric’s family knows what he did. I’m obligated to find out who.”
“Bull crap,” she spat. “The statute of limitations ran out years ago. Even if you could find evidence to prove they were accessories after the crime, there wouldn’t be a thing that could be done about it.”
“Then call it a moral obligation. Maybe bad blood runs in the family. If it does, better to know now before anyone else is hurt.”
“Eric’s brother knew,” she said, all the irritation gone from her voice. She just sounded . . . defeated.
“Are you sure?”
“If he didn’t know, he suspected. Eric lost his license the year he worked for Granddad. Since his family lived outside of town, Josh used to pick him up after work. He was there that night. I know he saw me come out of the shop, and I know he noticed my torn dress and my ripped tights. He called my name and asked if I was okay, but I just kept walking, and he just let me go.”
“That bastard.”
“His brother’s crime wasn’t his fault.”
“His hiding it was.”
“You know how their father was. He wanted everything perfect.”
“Are you making excuses for them, Willow? Because if you are, I sure as hell don’t want to hear it.”
“What are you so angry about? It happened almost twenty years ago, and it happened to me. Not you.” She tossed the cookie back in the bag, her hand shaking with anger or fear or some combination of them both.
“You’re not going to tell me that it doesn’t matter anymore, are you?” he asked, forcing the anger out of his voice, because it wasn’t directed at her, and she didn’t deserve it. “Because I was the one sitting beside you on the floor in Chocolate Haven, remember? I was the one in the car when you woke up screaming from a nightmare. I held your shoulders while you puked, remember? Maybe no one else knows the truth. Maybe there’s not another person in this world who understands, but I sure as hell do, and I’m not going to forget it. I’m not going to sweep it under the rug. I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t happen.”
She didn’t say a word.
Didn’t make a sound.
Didn’t tell him to give her back the check or to mind his own business or to get lost.
He thought they were done. That he’d pissed her off to the point that their dance in the moonlight wouldn’t matter, their kiss under the stars would mean nothing.
Maybe he was glad.
Maybe it was for the best.
He was trying to convince himself of that when she reached for his hand, her fingers twining with his. Her skin was cool and clammy, and she was trembling, and he wanted to take back every word he’d said, shove the check back in her purse, forget what he knew and what he felt obligated to do.
“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, but she didn’t release his hand. Not as they reached the Spokane city limits, not as they drove into the hospital parking lot. Not until she parked the car and opened the door, and even then, he felt like she would rather have stayed in the car, holding his hand.