by Eden Summers
“A little,” she lied.
The sharp trill of an incoming call sounded. She grabbed the cell off her pillow and rejected the call without checking the ID. “Maybe you could come visit me in Richmond.”
The blood seeped from her mother’s face, turning her skin a shade of white. “I... That will be hard for me, Alana... If you promise to be patient with me, I promise I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask for.”
They stared at each other in silence.
Her mother patted her hand gently and stood. “I’m going to let you finish packing before I turn into a blubbering mess.”
“Sounds like a plan.” It was already past nine and her body wouldn’t co-operate much longer without rest. Her mom strolled to the door and paused in the hall.
“I know I told you I’m going to try and change, and I promise to give it my all. Just keep in mind a lot of the women here are still sensitive. I need you to make sure the men coming with the removalist truck don’t go anywhere near the main house?”
Alana nodded. “I’ve already told them I’ll meet them at the properties entrance and escort them in.” She also informed the retreat residents that there would be men on the property tomorrow. With her private cottage situated a couple hundred yards from the main house, nobody else should be disturbed.
“Oh, good.” Relief eased the lines of tension on her mother’s face. “I’ll see you at breakfast then.”
“Yeah, I’ll be up early.” Hopefully after her body had rested from the pulling, pushing, and packing of the past three days.
Her phone interrupted with another incoming call and her mom waved before disappearing down the hall. Alana gripped the cell in her hand and glanced down at the screen—Private Number. Someone with a private number was calling her after nine at night? The thought of talking to anyone right now made her exhaustion increase, so she rejected the call for a second time.
She planned on spending the next twenty-four hours packing the remainder of her belongings and saying goodbye to the women she considered her family. Switching her phone to silent, she lay back down on the mattress and fought to keep her eyes open. The rest of the world could wait for now.
Alana woke before the sun. As promised, she shared breakfast with her mom who fidgeted at the table. Her anxiety at having men on the property was clearly visible and no amount of consoling would calm her nerves.
A little before lunch, Alana met the moving truck at the front gate and led them down the gravel driveway in her mom’s car. The men were big and bulky, complete with the most well-defined arms in Colorado and manners her mother would appreciate if she would quit hiding and come to say hello. Interaction with the opposite sex would do the women good. Alana didn’t have a psychology degree, but shutting yourself away from men entirely didn’t seem healthy. Well, not for as long as her mother had anyway.
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
She glanced up from cleaning the kitchen sink to see one of the removalists frowning at the front door. She followed his gaze and found her mother standing on the outside of the screen, her posture straight, her chin high. “Mom?”
Her mother flashed Alana a quick glance before bringing her focus back to the man standing in the middle of the room with a large box in his hands.
“Sorry,” Alana mumbled under her breath. “She isn’t used to...strangers.” She pushed from the counter and strode from the house, letting the screen door shut with a slap. “What’s up?”
“I—” Her mother’s focus strayed inside. “Um... Kate rang the house phone.”
Alana stepped into her line of vision and claimed her attention. “And?” She rested a hand on her mom’s shoulder to steer her into the front yard. Her mother ignored her, leaning forward, reaching for something propped against the wall.
“You brought a gun!”
The rifle hung from her mom’s good hand. “I have a right to protect myself.” She stepped back, and they walked side-by-side to the gravel driveway leading to the main house. “I came to tell you Kate rang. She said she tried to call you last night and wants you to call her back.”
Alana’s gaze drifted from the gun, to her mother’s serious expression, then back to the gun. “O...K...”
Both men exited her cottage carrying boxes, and her mother’s grip on the rifle tightened.
“Mom, you need to go back to the house. Everything is fine here. I’ll call Kate later.”
Her mother gave a jerky nod, her focus remaining on the men until she pivoted on her toes and strode to the main house.
As afternoon fell, the movers left with her belongings and she sat on the dusty floorboards eating a sandwich she made earlier.
“Oh, shit.” She dusted her hands and hobbled to the kitchen, her muscles protesting as she grabbed her phone from the counter. She forgot to turn the ringer back on and found the announcement of eight missed calls on her screen. Clicking on the call log, she read the details of three of Kate’s calls and five from a private number. She poised her finger above the icon to return Kate’s call but the far off sounds of hysterical shouting caused her to drop the phone and rush to the door.
The screen closed with a slap and made her jump. She strode out the front of her cottage, toward the main house, and found an unfamiliar white car parked in the driveway. Her mother stood on the porch, rifle poised and ready to fire. She aimed down at the vehicle and the two men standing on either side of it.
“Get off my property!” Her mom’s voice was frantic, unfamiliar.
Alana focused back on the men as she began to run, her stomach dropping with each step.
Oh. God.
Mitchell.
Mitch raised his hands in surrender. “Ms. Shelton?”
Finding Alana had been a group effort. Mitch had the good fortune of catching their pilots before they left Richmond convincing them to make a flight to Colorado Springs first thing in the morning. Leah had also been kind enough to answer his late night call to help locate the woman’s retreat.
Now they were here, unwelcomed, and staring down the barrel of a rifle. He should’ve paid more attention to the No men allowed unless authorized sign on the front fence.
“Get off my property!” the woman wailed, her voice shaking with emotion.
“Holy. Shit.” Blake whispered over the hood of the car. “I think this is where I punch out on the friendship card and back the fuck away.”
“Please, just let me see Alana.”
“I won’t tell you again, buddy,” her voice rose.
It wasn’t as if they arrived unexpected. Mitch had been on the phone to her only minutes earlier. He’d taken the number off the retreat sign at the front gate and called to ask for permission to enter. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t planned on taking no for an answer anyway.
“Please, ma’am,” Blake skirted the bonnet with raised arms, his tattoos gleaming in the sunshine. “We’ve come all the way from New York. We only want a few minutes with her.”
She peered down at Blake with disdain. Mitch knew exactly what she saw, a hoodlum with inked skin, spiked hair, and frayed jeans. A door slammed in the distance followed by footsteps crunching on gravel. The woman glanced to her right, then back at Blake who still approached.
“Stop!” she yelled.
He took another step. “I’m sorry, I’m—”
A hollow pop blasted the air and Mitch ducked. Blake stumbled in front of him, his hands falling to his hip and clutching tight. Mitch grabbed him around the shoulders before he fell, keeping him upright.
“She shot me!” Blake glanced down at his shaking hands.
Oh, shit. What had Mitch dragged his friend into? Adrenaline kicked in, accelerating his heart, clearing his mind. Loud footsteps echoed from behind them and Mitch moved to shield Blake with his body before looking over his shoulder.
Alana.
She ran toward him, her wild, brown hair flailing around her shoulders, eyes wide, mouth agape. He stared, shock gripping him b
y the shrunken balls. She spared him a fleeting glance before glaring back at the porch where her mother clutched at her ribs.
“Mom, get inside!” she screamed as she came up beside him and nudged him out of the way. “Get Patty. Now.”
“I-It’s only a pellet. It isn’t a r-real rifle.” Her mother replied, fear evident in her voice.
Blake slid to the ground, his back resting against the car tire.
Alana fell to her knees. “Show me.” She raised his shirt and hissed in a breath at the blood. Her head snapped to the house, toward her mother who still waited on the porch, the gun now lowered. “It may not be a real rifle but you’ve caused real damage. Now go get Patty.” She turned back to Blake. “I’m so sorry.”
Mitch stepped back and allowed the guilt to take over his body. His head pounded, making his vision swim and he stumbled sideways. He laid a hand against the cool metal of the car and breathed deep. Red liquid covered Blake’s stomach and Alana’s hands. Not much at all, just enough to make Mitch giddy.
“It’s only a scratch,” he heard Alana whisper.
He peered down at her and caught her staring back at him, her eyebrows raised. “What are you doing here?”
The front door slammed, and Mitch moved out of the way as an auburn-haired lady knelt beside Alana with a first aid kit. “Hi. I’m Patty.”
Blake shrunk back, his gaze flashing from Alana to the other woman. “I’m fine, really.” He held up his hands. “It’s a scratch.”
“Don’t be silly.” Patty opened her first aid kit and snapped on a pair of gloves.
“It’s all right, Blake. Patty’s a nurse. She works here.” Alana squeezed his shoulder and he slumped with a deep breath.
Patty gripped his elbow. “Why don’t we get you into the house so I can take a look at you?”
“Umm.” His gaze went from Patty, to Alana, to Mitch, and back to Alana. “No offense, but your mom is all kinds of crazy. I’d prefer to stay out here if that’s OK.”
Alana grimaced and Patty chuckled. “A big tattooed guy like you is afraid of a little lady with a broken arm and a pellet gun?” Patty raised her brows and stood. “Come on.” She held out her hand. “I’ll protect you.”
Blake moved to his feet with a wince. “I hope so, cause those pellets hurt like a bitch.”
Alana kept her back to Mitch, her body facing Patty and Blake as they made their way up the front steps and into the main house. Her spine was stiff, her shoulders rigid.
“I’m sorry, Allie.”
Her chin rose and she heaved a heavy breath. “Why are you here?”
“I needed to see you. I needed to apologize.”
Silence.
He gravitated toward her, closing the distance, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She shuddered at his touch, and he didn’t know if he should back away or clutch her tighter. “I’m sorry.”
She stepped forward, dislodging his grip. “I better go check on Blake.” She walked toward the house, quickly making her way onto the porch.
“Allie.”
She paused, the screen door held open in her hand, and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, her lips pressed together in a tight line.
He wished he could wipe away her anguish with a brush of his lips. “Promise you’ll give me a chance to explain later?”
She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “There’s no need. You made your position clear on the Daybreak breakfast show.” She raised her chin. “I’m nobody’s distraction, Mitchell. I think it’s best if you leave.”
* * *
Alana strode down the corridor to the first-aid room, shaking her hands to dislodge the hold Mitchell had on her. He was under her skin, in her heart, clouding her mind. It was suffocating, nauseating. It made her throat dry and her eyes burn.
Why show up out of the blue without even a phone call? She’d yearned to hear his voice, or even a text. In friendship or love, it wouldn’t have mattered. Now too many days had passed. She deserved a man who had time for her whether they were in or out of town. A man who would love her wholeheartedly and promise fidelity through weeks of separation. Not someone who would turn up when they had a few hours to spare.
She pasted on a smile and entered the small room where Patty had Blake cornered on a hospital gurney. He sat straight, naked from the waist up, the artwork of his body on full display. She admired the definition of finely sculpted muscles and concentrated on what images marked his skin. When her gaze reached his face, he was staring at her, his eyes wide with a silent plea.
“How’s the patient?”
Patty scoffed. “For a man covered in ink, he’s awfully skittish around needles.”
“If I thought your poking was going to leave a cool picture maybe I wouldn’t mind so much,” he mumbled.
“He declined my finest Scotch, too. Nancy-boy didn’t even want a shot of courage.”
Alana gave a fake gasp. “Patty! If mom found out you have liquor she would go ballistic.”
“Don’t you go blabbing on me, girl. It’s my own secret stash that I keep in a locked cabinet. No need to upset your momma any further. And I don’t remember you complaining when I gave you your first taste of alcohol as a teen.”
Alana tsk’d and shook her head before turning to the patient. “Need me to hold your hand, Blake?”
“I’m sure you could distract me with something better than handholding, sugar.” He winked, then winced and sucked in a breath. “Holy f-f-f-f-fire truck. I think you just stitched my kidney.”
“Sorry, my hand slipped.” Patty clipped out.
“Please be gentle with him.” Alana pulled the chair from the office table in the corner and dragged it to sit beside Patty. “Under the bravado, he’s a big softie.”
Blake fixed her with a sweet smile and reached for her hand. “Did you speak to Mitch?”
She shook her head and schooled her features, pretending the sound of Mitchell’s name didn’t clench her heart like a vice.
“Do you plan on speaking to him?”
“Blake,” she slumped her shoulders and pleaded with her eyes. She couldn’t talk about it. Maybe when the craziness settled she would be able to think straight again.
He took the hint and changed the subject, sticking to trivial topics like the weather. When Patty finished bandaging the wound, he grabbed his shirt from beside him and scooted off the gurney in a flash.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand before your mom finds the knives.” He reached for her hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow, and led her from the room.
Alana sighed and braced herself for the two uncomfortable conversations she had to endure.
Easiest one first.
“Will you press charges?”
He peered down at her as they strolled down the hall. “Against your mom?” He shook his head with a frown. “No. I’m happy to blame Mitch for this one. If I would’ve known she warned him from driving onto the property in the first place, I would’ve waited on the highway.”
Alana paused, and he took another step before doing the same. Her hand fell from its place on his arm, slapping back to her side. “Mitch spoke to her before you arrived?”
“Yeah. He’s been trying to get in contact with you since last night. First we went to Kate’s house, but all she told him was that you were back in Colorado. He’s been calling in favors from everywhere to try and find you. Then before we drove onto the property, he spoke to your mom on the phone.”
“What did she say?”
“Something along the lines of ‘you aren’t welcome cause you broke my daughter’s heart. And if she wanted to speak to you she would’ve answered your calls’.”
“I didn’t leave his calls unanswered on purpose,” she mumbled. “My phone was on silent.” She glanced up at Blake and he pierced her with his deep brown eyes. “I probably wouldn’t have answered anyway.”
He nodded. “Yeah, we both thought as much. Mitch didn’t plan on giving up, though.”
&nb
sp; She frowned. “Why?”
“I told you weeks ago, before we left Richmond. He likes you. I warned you he’d push you away and you didn’t fight for him.”
She placed her hands on her hips and scowled. “He thinks he knows what’s best for me. He tried to tell me what I needed and what I didn’t. I will never disrespect myself enough to be with a man like that, no matter how much I lo-like him.”
Blake raised a brow. “And why do you think he said those things?”
“Because he’s a jerk!” Her heart skipped a thudded beat. She needed to believe he was a chauvinistic pig. Otherwise she would end up crawling on her knees and asking him to give their relationship another try.
“No, sugar. He said it because he knew it would get you to let him go without a fight. And in case you didn’t know, that time we spent together—”
She frowned in confusion and he waggled his brows at her. “Ohh…yes.” He meant the time when they were all together. Her cheeks heated at the memory.
“—Mitch has never done that before. The whole protective-jealous thing, I mean. He cherishes you, Alana. I’ve never seen him this way.”
“I don’t understand. Why did he need me to let him go in the first place?”
Blake stepped toward her and grabbed her hand. “I’m not the person you need to ask.” He tugged her toward him. “Come on. Let’s go find where he’s hiding.”
She followed in a daze, her mind mulling possibilities which made her smile. Mitchell was here for her. He flew half way across the country—for her. They turned the corner to the entrance hall and found her mother pacing near the door. Her gaze shot to them, then lowered to their joined hands. Her face paled and her fingers shook as they rose to cover her mouth. “I apologize.”
Alana’s heart warmed with appreciation. She hadn’t expected her mom to atone for her life-threatening mistake without the threat of legal action falling into play.
“I-I don’t know what happened... I just...there was too much... I didn’t mean to... I...I.” She began to sob, big chest heaving cries which echoed off the walls.
Dropping Blake’s hand, Alana embraced her mother. She became the rock, holding strong while tears dampened her white camisole. “You need help.”
