Whatever Love Means

by Leigh Fleming

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You caught me off guard.” Tiffany snuffled and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “I thought they’d done caught up with him this time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I figured it would come back to bite him eventually.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Buddy has a gambling problem. He’s in debt up to his eyeballs. I thought you were a cop for sure.”

  “How much debt?”

  “All’s I got to say is you better not get a joint credit card or buy a house together.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll be left holding the bag.” She lifted the hem of her T-shirt to wipe her damp cheeks. Maggie noticed her pale skin tightly stretched over her ribs.

  “I take it you don’t have a good relationship with him,” Maggie said.

  “No, but I know his creditors pretty well. If I had a dime for every collection call I got because of him . . .” She dropped her shirt and rolled her eyes. “. . . I’d be a millionaire.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Three months.”

  Three months? She had started dating Buddy six months ago.

  “How much debt is he in?” Maggie was afraid to hear the answer.

  “Thousands. We had a real nice apartment but lost it. That’s why I live here in this shithole.”

  “Does he pay child support?”

  Tiffany stood up, hitched her child onto her hip, and glanced down at Maggie’s hand. “Not usually, but he must’ve done well at the craps tables lately.”

  “Why?”

  “He paid all his back support a couple of weeks ago.”

  Was that around the time that he asked for a loan? Maggie felt like an idiot. She’d been duped again.

  Tiffany grabbed her hand and examined her engagement ring. “I guarantee that rock you’re wearing is a fake, or he stole it.” Her face held a wry grin as she dropped Maggie’s hand and walked toward the trailer. The aluminum door creaked as she glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry about your luck.” She cackled like a chicken, letting the door slam behind her.

  Chapter 22

  All week, Travis had scouted Maggie’s whereabouts. The woman had vanished. Penny wouldn’t tell him anything, swearing she’d promised her sister not to tell Travis where she had gone. Damn sister loyalty. Carly would be back tomorrow from senior beach week, in time to attend her mother’s wedding—sure to be a fiasco. He’d parked outside Maggie’s last night until midnight, hoping she had returned, but there had been no sign of her. She had to be back soon. She was supposed to get married in forty-eight hours.

  Thursday morning, Travis’s truck glided along the country road, as if it had a mind of its own, passing the spot where he’d been hit. He would stakeout Maggie’s house again and hope to hell she returned. As soon as he crested the hill, he blew out a sigh of relief. Maggie’s car was in the driveway. She was home. He pulled in and skidded to a stop, crutching his way to her porch. She opened the door with his first knock.

  “Travis?”

  “Where the hell you been, woman?”

  Without a word, Maggie threw herself into his arms, nuzzling her face against his shoulder as she released a mournful sob.

  “What’s broken this time?”

  She blubbered something into his shirt, but he understood none of what she was saying. Something big had happened. He’d never seen her this torn up. Worry streaked down his spine. “Hey, now, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” With one arm tight around her, he leaned his crutches against the wall and held her, shutting the door behind him. Maggie clenched her arms around his neck, pressing against him as she mumbled into his chest.

  “Honey, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” He leaned back, taking her face in his hands as her tears flowed like a waterfall. She brushed his hands away and plastered her face into the curve of his neck. “Okay, I get it. Take your time. I’ve got all day.” He limped toward the sofa, forcing Maggie to back-step across the room. She stayed clamped against his body. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

  He eased them onto the couch, keeping his arms around her as she curled into his chest. Sobs racked her body. Fear circled his mind. What could’ve happened to her in the last few days? Had someone hurt her? He leaned back and took a quick survey of her arms and legs, finding no bruises. She tightened her grip, jerking him back against her body like she was holding on for dear life. This couldn’t be about Carly because she would’ve said so by now. Maggie had been through something bad, and he had to know what so that he could take care of it.

  Running his hand up and down her back, Travis tried to reassure her. “Mag, honey, you can tell me what happened. I’ll make sure the son of a bitch who hurt you pays. His ass will fry.”

  She shook her head, slowly crawling out of his arms while wiping her wet face. “No,” she croaked.

  “I’ll knock the shit out of him.”

  “Travis, stop.” Her voice strained as she reached for the tissue box on her coffee table. “No one hurt me.” It sounded like an air horn when she blew her nose. “You just caught me in a bad moment.”She leaned back and smiled through her tears. “I’ve been looking through some old photo albums, and I found the cutest pictures of Carly.”

  He hadn’t noticed the albums piled on the floor beside the coffee table. After a tender pat to his cheek, she scooted closer to him and curled her legs beneath her. She took an album from the stack and spread it across their laps. “Here’s Carly in the sand when she was three. Mom and Dad had rented a beach house in Nags Head that year.” Maggie blew her nose in a tissue. “Where have the years gone?”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and glanced at the photo of his baby girl plopped in the sand, surrounded by colorful buckets. Her fine curls were snow-white back then.

  “Wasn’t she adorable?” Maggie’s finger glided from photo to photo. “Look at her in the pool. She loved that elephant inner tube.”

  “Prettiest baby ever born.” His voice creaked as a thick lump invaded his throat. This beach trip hadn’t included him. Another time that he had missed out on Carly’s early years.

  Maggie turned the page and clapped her hands together. “Oh, look. This is the photo shoot Liza did for me. I think she was in middle school and was working on a 4-H project.”

  “Liza had talent even back then.” In the photos, Carly splashed through a mud puddle while wearing a bright yellow rain slicker and holding a rainbow umbrella. He blinked away the tingle in his eyes.

  “I sent you copies of these, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you were always good about that.”

  “Regardless of what happened between us, I never wanted you to miss out.”

  But I did.

  They flipped through some more pages in the album, reliving their precious little girl’s toddler years. When they got to the end, Maggie let out a shaky sigh and reached for another book.

  “Why are you doing this to yourself?” Travis handed her another tissue when he saw a tear streak down her cheek. She dabbed it away.

  “I don’t know. She’ll be leaving us soon. I guess I was feeling nostalgic.”

  “It’s not like we won’t ever see her again. She’ll be home on breaks.”

  “I know.” She lifted another book from the pile, but Travis laid his hand on top of it, stopping her from another sad trip down memory lane.

  “Hey, hang on a minute. Where’ve you been the past few days?”

  “Ohio.”

  “Ohio? That’s it? I thought you’d been kidnapped.”

  “Nope. I was in Ohio.”

  “Why?”

  She laid the album on the table and stood up, swiping her hand across her damp eyes.

  “Want a beer?” Not waiting for an answer, she rushed toward the kitchen and quickly returned, carrying his beer in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

  “Kind of early, isn’t it?” he asked, accepting the beer. />
  “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She took a sip of wine and settled beside him on the sofa. “Besides, I need it.”

  “I know it’s not just because Carly is leaving for college soon. What happened in Ohio?”

  Maggie shook her head, took a deep breath, and then tipped back the wine glass, draining half the dark red liquid. Running her tongue across her top lip, she set the glass down on the table, tucked her foot under her bottom, and turned toward him.

  “You mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Travis set his beer beside her glass and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa.

  She hesitated, locking her gaze with his, and then looked down at her lap. She took another shaky breath and then lifted her head, closing her eyes as she said, “Life’s strange.”

  “Yeah, and . . .”

  She opened her eyes, still damp and bloodshot. “I mean, would you have guessed all those years ago that we would be where we are now?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Still here in Highland Springs? Me owning the Brass Rail. You with your repair business.”

  “No, it’s probably not what I would’ve imagined.”

  “We wanted to live on a tropical island, remember?” A huge smile spread across her face as she inched closer. She laid her hand on his thigh. “Remember that night we were ice skating out at Tucker’s? Brody had snatched some rum from his dad’s liquor cabinet. We were mixing it with cherry Kool-Aid or something.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember. Awful combination.”

  “You and I snuck away from the fire and climbed into the back of Robby’s Charger.”

  “We were freezing, so we started making up stories that the rum was magical and would transport us to a warm, sunny place.”

  “A tropical island. It would be ninety degrees outside with palm trees swaying in the breeze.”

  “We’d wake up on the sand and stay there forever.”

  Travis remembered that night. How could he forget? It was the first time he had kissed Maggie. The second his lips had met hers, he was done for. He had fallen harder than a boulder rolling down a cliff.

  “We should’ve done it,” she murmured as she reached for her goblet.

  “Done what? Moved to the tropics?”

  She shrugged and took a sip. “You’re right, it was a dumb idea.”

  “I never said it was a dumb—”

  “What’s wrong with me, Travis?” Maggie slammed her glass on the coffee table, the conversation taking a sudden turn.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “Then why have things turned out this way? Am I being punished for something?”

  “Whoa, what are you talking about?”

  “Pregnant at sixteen—too young. Divorced when I was nineteen. Never went to college. Married a complete maniac who nearly killed me. Then turned right around and married a man-whore. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch a disease. I’m running my dad’s bar, which I have no desire to do. How did I end up like this?”

  As she ticked off each situation, her eyes grew bigger and her voice turned louder. What did she want him to say? So her life hadn’t turned out the way she had hoped. Neither had his. Before he could offer any advice, she jumped from the sofa and drained her glass.

  “I’ll tell you how I ended up this way. I’m soft. Too nice. A pleaser.”

  “You’re not soft.”

  “I am. I finally realized it while I was holed up in that motel in Ohio.”

  “Where? What motel?”

  “I met this woman in Canton, and then I found a cheap motel beside a truck stop.”

  “What woman?”

  She ignored his questions, snatching the empty wine glass, and retreating to the kitchen. He mumbled some choice words under his breath and stood up, tucking the crutches under his arms. Once he got to the kitchen, she was tossing the empty wine bottle in the trash.

  “Want another beer?”

  “No, Maggie, I want you to tell me what’s going on. Why were you in a truck stop motel all alone? You were alone, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, and it was great. For the first time in my life, I took some time for myself. I ate junk food. Watched what I wanted on TV. And really thought about who I was and why. You know what I concluded?”

  “Tell me.”

  “My dad worked so hard. He was never around, always at the bar. My mom had her hands full running the house, doing the books, taking care of us kids. I think I’ve been looking for attention and validation. I want everyone to like me, so I let people, especially men, walk all over me, but at the same time, subconsciously I feel that I don’t deserve to be happy.”

  “Sounds like you’ve saved yourself hundreds of dollars in psychotherapy bills.”

  “Right? I’ve married men who had similar traits to my dad.”

  “Your dad wasn’t abusive.”

  “Yeah, but he was a charmer and a little manipulative. Besides, I was in a bad place when I met my second husband.”

  No shit. The ink had hardly dried on their divorce papers, and she had up and married the bum.

  “How do you explain husband number three?” Travis asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Charmed the pants right off me.”

  “And every other woman in town.”

  “In hindsight, I knew what I was getting myself into. I think I’d convinced myself that I would be the woman who changed him. He loved me so much he’d never look at another woman.”

  She once had a husband like that, and he was standing right in front of her. About the only thing she’d gotten right in her self-analysis was that she didn’t think she deserved happiness. Travis could have made Maggie happy if she’d given him the chance.

  She set her glass on the kitchen table and circled around to him, placing her warm hands on his face. “You were the only one of my husbands that I know would never have hit me or cheated on me.”

  “You’re right.”

  “If only we hadn’t been so young. I should’ve been more patient with you.”

  “It was too much for us to handle.”

  She stepped in closer, and he slipped his hands around her waist. “But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m all grown up now and won’t make the same mistakes.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She leaned back and looked him square in the eyes. “From now on, I’m going to do what I want, do what makes me happy, and I’m not going to worry about what people think or say. I’m living for myself from now on.”

  “You said that the other night at the park.”

  “And I meant it.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Maggie’s face came closer to his, her gaze dipping to his lips. “I’m going to sell my half of the Brass Rail to Penny and sell Beautiful Blooms to Riley.”

  “Oh?” Travis couldn’t fully concentrate on what she was saying with her mouth a breath away and her body pressed to his. She ran her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, tugging him so close their noses touched.

  “I’m going to be stronger.” She touched her lips to his. “Braver.” Turning her head, she tapped a tender kiss to his mouth. “And I’ll show everyone that no one can walk all over Maggie Timbrook ever again.” His mind reeled with a million questions, but she didn’t give him the chance to speak. She cupped the back of his head and pulled him into a long, sensuous kiss. Her tongue grazed along his lips and then collided with his, sending instant heat to his belly. She raked her nails down the length of his neck while her other hand slipped beneath his shirt, gliding over his chest and down his stomach until her fingers touched the button on his jeans.

  “What’re you doing, Mag?” he asked, his lips still pressed to hers.

  “Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

  She flipped the button on his jeans and tugged on the zipper, running her hand down inside his pants, giggling when she met hi
s erection. Travis didn’t know what was happening but wasn’t interested in analyzing it. She had her mouth on his and her hands on his body, and Lord, he wanted her—had always wanted her. He grabbed the hem of the skirt she was wearing, and pulled it up, slipping his hands inside her panties, grazing along her silky skin until his fingers reached the warm space between her legs. This was no act on her part. She was on fire for him. If it weren’t for the cast on his leg, he’d lift her up, wrap her legs around him, and make love right here in the kitchen.

  Maggie seemed to read his mind. She pulled out of his arms, leaving his lips wet and throbbing, and pulled out a chair. “Sit down,” she said as she shimmied out of her panties.

  He pushed his jeans to the floor, sat on the chair, and released a satisfying moan as she straddled him. Something major had happened to her in Ohio, but he wasn’t about to grill her now. Right now, he would enjoy every second of this and save the questions for later.

  Chapter 23

  The house was still. Only the drip of the bathroom faucet and Travis’s slow, steady breathing broke the silence. He was so handsome—long, dark lashes feathered along his closed eyelids, and his soft lips gaped open. Maggie leaned up on her elbow and traced her finger down the length of his straight nose. His hair had grown back into soft, blond curls, just like when they had first met. Lying naked in her bed with only a thin sheet to cover them, she draped her leg over his and nestled his shoulder between her breasts. She felt at total peace for the first time in years. She had needed this.

  After their quick, lust-filled romp in the kitchen, they had managed to make it to her bedroom before they went at it again. Fifteen years of desire had poured out, and they couldn’t get enough of each other. Travis had called uncle and fallen asleep after their fourth time. She smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Thank God he hadn’t asked anything about Ohio or Buddy or what she had planned. Her mouth had kept him occupied, but she feared that when he woke up from his sex-drunk slumber, he’d want answers.