Walk the Line (Man of the Month Book 12)

by J. Kenner

  He was with Tyree, and Elena saw the way her dad looked at him—and the bland way that Brent looked back, neither acknowledging or denying.

  She took that as a good sign. Because if Brent was willing to let Tyree get even a hint of a clue that he and Elena were involved, then that had to mean it was serious to him, too.

  The thought put a little extra bounce in her step as she headed toward her dad.

  “Hi, Daddy. Hi, Brent.”

  He grinned. “Hi, yourself.”

  She kept her hands at her sides, fighting the urge to reach for him. “I was just checking in about the fair,” she told Tyree. “It’s already Thursday, so Saturday is pretty much here. I’m sure Megan and Jenna are ready, but are we? Any more videos to make? Food to prep? You have servers to work our table?”

  Her dad chuckled. “This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, mon bijou. Your work is done. All you have to do is come on Saturday and enjoy yourself.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And taste the competition’s food,” he added in a stage whisper. “Gotta know if anyone outshines us.”

  “Never,” she said loyally, then glanced over at Brent. Not because he was part of the conversation, but because she simply couldn’t be that close to him and not look at him. “Right. Um, well, okay. I’m going to go run some errands, then.”

  She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Tyree’s cheek. Then she very sternly forced herself not to kiss Brent, as well.

  “I wanted to kiss you today.”

  Brent’s words came out of the blue, filling the post-coital silence as they both lay silent and sated after thoroughly exhausting each other.

  Elena rolled over, propping herself up on an elbow so that she could see him better. “I think you kissed me a lot,” she teased. “And in a lot of very interesting places.”

  “Funny,” he said. “You know what I mean. At The Fix. With your dad.”

  “Yeah. I know.” She met his eyes. “I wanted the same thing.”

  “Someday,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. He took her hand and pulled it to her lips, then kissed her fingertips. “Goodnight, babe,” he said, before drifting off.

  She kept looking at him, amused. He could do that, just fall off into sleep as easily as stepping off a curb. Not her. Her thoughts kept her awake most nights, and this night was going to be full-on insomnia, but of the best possible kind. Because the thought that filled her mind was the question of what he meant by someday.

  At the moment, she could only think of good things. And she closed her eyes, smiled, and tried to imagine when exactly someday might be.

  She was pondering Christmas when she heard the wail. At first she didn’t recognize it. Then it hit her that the pitiful cry was coming from Faith’s room. She whipped off the sheet, grabbed her robe, and raced down the hall.

  The little girl was sitting up in bed, only half-awake, tears streaming down her face.

  “Hey! Faith, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m here.” She hurried to the bed, then climbed on, hugging Faith close to her. “I’ve got you,” she promised as the little girl sobbed against her.

  She hiccupped and coughed and slowly calmed down. And then, wrapping her arms tight around Elena’s neck, she said, “Mommy.”

  The word sent a golden spark of pleasure bouncing through her—only to go cold and gray when she turned to see Brent standing in the doorway, his face flat and his eyes empty.

  Mommy.

  But she wasn’t Mommy yet. And in Brent’s world, mommies left.

  She knew him. Knew the way he thought. Knew his fears about Faith getting attached only to have her heart broken.

  Most of all, she knew that this moment was the beginning of the end.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was all right there in front of him. Everything he craved. Everything he loved.

  Everything he was afraid of.

  And blinking like a red beacon in the middle of it all was Faith.

  Faith.

  At the end of the day, she was all that mattered. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about Elena. It was about Faith. About his little girl. A girl whose mommy had walked out on her, and who only had her father now to protect her. To keep the pain at bay. The hurt of being left. Abandoned.

  He’d taken on that role when he’d gotten Olivia pregnant, and he’d renewed the commitment the moment Faith had been put in his arms.

  And as much as he wanted Elena—and, oh Christ, he wanted her—he’d sworn never to put Faith in that position again. Never to even risk it.

  Elena had known that going into this affair. He had, too.

  And he should never have let either of them fall as deep as they had.

  “Brent,” she said when Faith was finally tucked back in and they’d returned to the living room, both of them knowing by unspoken consent that they couldn’t return to his bedroom. Not together, anyway.

  It was the first word they’d said to each other since he’d found her and Faith on the bed, and it seemed to hang in the room like a warning. Because, damn him, he wanted to answer her. Wanted to respond not just to his name, but to that tone. A tone that said that she was with him. That she was his.

  But he couldn’t trust it. How the hell could he trust it when he already knew that she was talking with companies on the west coast for jobs when she graduated in two years?

  And wouldn’t that be great? Two years of getting closer to Faith and then, wham, bam, boom, there she goes.

  No.

  No way in hell was he doing that to his daughter.

  “Brent,” she said again. “Listen to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Elena. I’m so damn sorry, but we both knew this wasn’t permanent.”

  “Maybe I want it to be.” She looked defiantly into his eyes, and his heart twisted as his resolve weakened. But no. No.

  He drew in a breath. “It’s not about what you want. Hell, it’s not about what I want. It’s not even about what Faith wants. It’s about what’s best for her. And Elena, that’s not you. It can’t be you, because we both know you’re going away.”

  “No,” she said earnestly, “I’m not.” She drew in a breath and pressed her fingers to her temples before perching on the edge of the sofa, looking a bit like a lost little girl herself in the old robe of his that he’d given her.

  When she lifted her head, he saw pain in her eyes, and he hated that he was the one who put it there. But there would be pain—that was inevitable. And it was his job to see that it wasn’t Faith who suffered.

  “Listen to me, Brent. I’m not going anywhere. I was planning to tell you tomorrow. I made up my mind. I’m staying right here.”

  He flinched, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words.

  “I get it, you know. I understand what you’re doing for Faith, and I get it. Hell, I agree with it. I grew up without a father, remember? I understand what you’re trying to protect. And because I do, I decided to stay.”

  He said nothing, but he sat in the chair opposite her.

  She licked her lips and plowed on. “I love you,” she said, and instead of settling over him warm and soft, the words seemed to burn through him, leaving painful scars that seared his soul.

  “And I know you’re going to say I’m too young,” she continued, “but I’m certain of it.”

  “Elena—”

  “No.” She cut him off sharply. “Dammit, Brent, I want a chance. You don’t have to say you love me back right away,” she added, and the fact of his love sat heavy inside him.

  “But I know that you do,” she continued. “I can feel it, Brent, and I know you can, too. And … well, because of that, I’ve been looking at only certain jobs. Ones that are either here or that will let me work from here. There are lots of opportunities. I don’t have to go away to do what I want. You’re afraid of stealing my dream, and I get that. But you aren’t. And you’re afraid that I’ll change my mind and steal Faith’s heart. But you’re wrong. I won’t. I’m staying. For
the work. And because I love you.”

  She sat back, her expression tight, almost exhausted. “Please,” she added softly. “Please say something.”

  “I can’t take the risk,” he said, forcing the words out. “She’ll only remember tonight as a dream. Won’t even know what she called you. But it doesn’t matter. That feeling is already inside her. It’s going to be hard enough having you leave as a friend. I can’t risk her mother walking away.”

  “I told you.” Her words came out clipped, bordering on angry. “I’m not going to.”

  “You say that now, but you’re not even out of graduate school. Things change, Elena.”

  “Don’t you treat me like a child.” The words snapped and crackled, alive with fury. “I’m not Olivia, dammit. And you need to stop looking for her around every corner. Brent, please,” she added, her tone softening. “Don’t deny yourself or Faith a relationship just because you’re scared.”

  A cold hand tightened around his heart, and his mouth went dry. But all he did was shake his head. “I think you need to go now.”

  “Brent. Please.”

  “I’m sorry. But you need to go.”

  Elena didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less Hannah or Selma, who were so happy with their men and had been so convinced that she’d find happiness with Brent.

  She had found it—and he’d tossed it all away. He thought he was protecting Faith; she knew that. But he wasn’t. All he was doing was putting a Band-Aid over the wound Olivia had inflicted.

  He’d never find a woman he trusted to stay, mostly because he didn’t believe anyone would stay. He’d been burned, and the only one who could make him get over it was him.

  Which was all very profound and reasonable, but what the hell was she supposed to do now? She loved him. Did she just walk away? Did she fight, even if fighting was futile?

  Did she keep crying into her pillow and watching sappy romances that left her bawling at the end?

  No, she told herself firmly, she did not.

  Instead she hauled her butt off the bed, then marched to the bathroom where she showered, brushed her teeth, and put on enough makeup to feel human again.

  Then she grabbed her purse and her car keys and headed for her parents’ house.

  Of course, it wasn’t them she wanted to see. She already knew that Tyree thought Brent was too old for her, and loaded with a bit of baggage called Faith. Her mom might have a different perspective, but Elena wasn’t inclined to risk it.

  Still, it didn’t matter. They were both at The Fix. Her mom was shooting Matthew and Griffin for the calendar, and her dad was there meeting with Easton about the eminent domain action.

  No, it wasn’t them she wanted to see. She was looking for Eli. He might only be sixteen, but they’d had some long talks about their parents. He’d lost his mom when he was young, and they’d bonded over their shared blood and odd parental situations.

  He might not have advice, but he was a shoulder to cry on. And at that moment she was tired of crying on pillows.

  He was fortunately home, and when she’d called him from the car to give him the quick rundown, he’d told her to come on over.

  Now he pulled open the door just a few seconds after she rang the bell. “Wow,” he said, “you said you felt like shit, and you look like it, too.”

  “And to think that most of my life I didn’t realize what I was missing by not having a little brother.”

  He snorted, and she followed him inside. “I really am sorry,” he said when they settled at the kitchen table. “I mean, breakups suck.”

  “That they do.”

  “So, what can I do?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I just wanted someone to talk to. Which I did over the phone. Any brilliant advice come your way while I was making the drive over here?”

  “Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”

  “What?”

  “Talk to Dad. Nobody knows Brent better than he does except Jenna and Reece. So I guess that’s my advice, too. Talk to them.”

  She’d considered it, but she happened to know they were hard at work on the baby’s room, and she hated to interrupt for her own relationship angst.

  “Then Dad’s your best bet,” Eli said, after she told him as much.

  “He’ll just say that I was stupid to get involved with an older man.”

  “Were you?”

  “No,” she said indignantly. “Our ages aren’t the problem. It’s that bitch Olivia. She poisoned him.”

  “So argue with Dad. He’ll put up a fight, but he’ll come around if you’re right. And maybe he’ll have some advice. Or at least you’ll have another shoulder, right?”

  She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Listen, I’m really sorry, but while you were on your way over, the hospital called. And you know that internship I’ve got? Well, they need me to come in because someone else called out sick.”

  “Oh, yeah. Go. I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “You can hang for as long as you want. We’ve got cheesecake in the fridge. My mom always used to eat cheesecake when she was sad.”

  “I think I would have liked your mom.”

  “Yeah? Well, we’re even then, because I like yours.”

  “I got lucky in the little brother department,” she said, giving him a hug.

  “Here’s hoping you get lucky in the Brent department, too,” he said, then headed for the door. “Talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sounds good. And thanks.”

  And then, just like that, she was alone again, her thoughts once again on Brent and her longing and her inability to get even an ounce of reason through his thick skull.

  Damn the man.

  With a sigh, she headed for the fridge. She was about to undertake a little cheesecake therapy when she heard the key in the lock. Then the kitchen door opened and Tyree stepped in.

  “Ah, mon bijou. What a surprise. Oh, baby, no,” he added when she burst into tears. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s shopping. You don’t want to talk about it with me? Or you don’t want to talk about it at all?”

  She peered at him through a liquid film, but didn’t answer.

  “So it’s about Brent, then. Well, I wouldn’t want to talk about it with me, either.”

  She lifted her head and sniffed noisily.

  He went to the pantry, opened the door, then pulled an apron off a hook. He handed it to her, and she took it out of reflex.

  “What—”

  “Come cook with me.”

  “But—will it help?”

  “Is there anything you can do right now to fix whatever happened between you two?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me that will make it all feel better?”

  Again, she shook her head.

  “In that case, ma cherie, it seems that cooking’s about the only thing we can do.”

  She considered that, nodded, then tied the apron around her waist. It might not help, but it damn sure couldn’t hurt. And right then, she really did want her dad.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brent had been living in a fog since Thursday, certain he’d done the right thing, and yet feeling that certainty buckle under his feet every time he thought of her and every time Faith asked when Elena would be coming over.

  Dammit, he knew what he knew. And what he knew was that he’d made the right decision.

  But if that was so, why did he feel so hollow? And why was he second-guessing himself in every quiet moment.

  And why did he keep picking up his phone to dial her number only to toss the damn thing away.

  Because he missed her. Plain and simple. He could admit it. It was true, after all.

  But just because he missed her didn’t mean he should open his world to her. That he should risk Faith’s stability and happiness.

  Doubts niggled at him, pushing at him in soft moment
s, filling his head when he was idle. So he tried not to be idle, and he was thankful when Saturday night rolled around and he could occupy himself with getting ready for the Food Fair while Faith stayed the night at Kyla’s house.

  It was black tie, and as he tied his bowtie, he couldn’t help but wonder what she was wearing.

  For that matter, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was going.

  He hoped she was. If nothing else, he wanted to talk with her.

  He wanted it enough, actually, that he arrived fifteen minutes early, using his connection to The Fix to get inside. He heard her voice, then immediately felt his pulse kick up, but it was only the video of her and Tyree making lasagna rolls.

  He watched for a few moments, memorizing the features he already knew so well, remembering the sensation of her velvet skin against his fingers, her soft lips upon his neck. Elena.

  “Hello, Brent.”

  His entire body tensed, and he stayed perfectly still, telling himself it was only his imagination. But he knew better, and he slowly turned around to face her.

  “Hello, Elena. You look lovely.” She wore a long, almost sheer beaded gown that showed off her height and her lean figure.

  “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  He tried to speak, then had to try a second time as his mouth was too dry. “Can we talk?”

  “I guess that’s up to you.”

  He nodded. “I deserved that. But listen. I want—well, the truth is I miss you.”

  He saw a spark in those lovely eyes.

  “And I wanted you to know that I still want to be friends.”

  The spark dimmed. And his heart beat five times before she finally answered him.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’m an all or nothing kind of woman, Brent. And the truth is that I love you. And I want it all. I suppose I should have said it before, but I’m telling you now. I love you,” she repeated. “I’m certain of it. Desperately, hopelessly. And I’m sorry if the news makes you uncomfortable, but that’s just the way it is.” She drew a breath, and when she did, he remembered to breathe as well.