He read her face, and the expression arrowed inside, landing with devastating precision. “Yeah. I know how that feels.”
She blinked, catching her lip with her teeth, and considered him a long moment. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but . . . is everything okay with you and Owen?”
He looked at the television, watched Optimus Prime battle with another bot. “I regret the fight. And no—we haven’t talked since that day.”
She nodded, her mouth a grim line.
He eased the cereal bowl from her grip. Handed her the soup. “This is better than Cap’n Crunch.”
“Hardly. You’re just trying to steal my cereal.”
He laughed but then dug in. Crunched.
She picked up the bowl of soup and blew on it before dipping in her spoon and stirring it. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
He knew who the her was in that sentence. “I . . . Yeah, I think so. But not anymore. We’re friends now.”
Huh. That only hurt—well, just a pinch, really.
“Friends.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you do that. Maybe I don’t know what love feels like, because I don’t think I could ever be friends with . . .” She sighed. “I hate love. I don’t understand it. Why does it hurt so much?”
He had nothing for that, his own throat tight.
“But maybe it was just infatuation. I don’t know, but I can’t seem to get Roark out of my mind.”
He understood that part too.
“How did you get over her? I mean, you two seemed so perfect for each other this summer, and then one day . . . nothing. What happened?”
Her green eyes met his with the power to unravel everything that flooded to the surface. He opened his mouth, aware of the fact that he might have Raina’s secret written on his face.
Owen’s baby. Even the adoption.
He stared at the cereal before the words scooted out.
“Casper?”
“She just . . . she didn’t really want me. I was her second choice.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? He’d never really voiced it, made it real, but the truth tumbled out, lay there, naked and raw before him.
He hadn’t realized how deep the thread of rejection ran, how it tangled his insides. He almost couldn’t breathe with the swift immensity of it.
Raina hadn’t wanted him once she realized she carried Owen’s baby. How blind did a guy need to be not to get that? She’d only told him a thousand different ways. Leave, Casper.
Probably she’d been hoping that Owen might come back. And Casper destroyed that, too, with his jealousy.
He hadn’t given his brother a chance to hear the news, to show up in his daughter’s life. And because of Casper, Owen would never have that chance.
No wonder Raina could walk up to him and declare herself a friend. Because she’d never loved him like he’d loved her.
As usual, he’d acted as a stand-in for one of his incredible brothers.
“Casper . . . that’s not true,” Amelia said softly. “Of course she wanted to be with you.”
“No, actually, that is the truth, and I’m an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.” He took a breath, fighting against the crushing knot in his chest that threatened to work its way up his throat. He laughed it away. “And really, why not? Because she had Owen, so why settle for me?”
Amelia lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously? Casper, you are sweet and funny and . . . I’d choose you over Owen any day.”
“Owen is dark and misunderstood. The perfect catch.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Owen has been nothing but a jerk since his accident. He’s arrogant and angry—”
“And the father of her child! Of course she wants him!”
Oh.
No.
Amelia’s eyes widened, her breath caught. She pressed a hand over her mouth.
Casper winced and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I . . . Wow, I really . . .” He made another face, looked at Amelia. “You can’t tell anyone, Amelia.”
“Raina is pregnant?”
He sighed. Swallowed. Shook his head.
“Did she lose the baby?”
He shook his head again, his expression as terrible as her response.
“She had a baby? Owen’s baby? I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Does Owen know?”
He shook his head again, apparently unable to form words, so he exhaled hard. “She gave the baby up for adoption.”
Amelia just blinked at him. Again.
Then she stared at the television screen, her expression blank.
“Amelia—”
“I heard you. I’m just trying to wrap my brain around the idea that we have a nephew—”
“Niece, actually.”
She looked at him. “A little girl. Owen’s little girl, somewhere out there in the world, and we’ll never see—” She closed her eyes for a second. “That’s not right.”
He set down the cereal. Leaned back, his head against the wall. “That’s what I said, but Raina . . .”
“I can’t believe her. How could she do this? To us. To Mom and Dad. You know how much they love Tiger and are looking forward to Ivy and Darek’s baby. The thought that they will never know they have another grandchild . . .”
“It’s her prerogative—”
“No, it’s not!”
“Yeah, it is. She’s the mother—”
“And Owen is the father!”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
Amelia closed her mouth, gathering in his words. Then, “She never told him that she was pregnant?”
“No. And now it’s too late.”
Amelia set down the soup. Pressed the meat of her hands into her eyes. “And I thought falling in love and having my heart broken when Roark cheated on me was tragedy enough.”
Huh? “He cheated on you? Okay, so remember that bit about me tracking him down, taking him apart?”
She got up. Handed him the bowl.
“Where are you going?”
She rounded on him, nonplussed. “To talk to her, of course. To tell her that she can’t do this—”
He grabbed her arm. “It’s done, Amelia. We can’t make her choices for her. We have to accept it.”
Her mouth tightened into a dark line, her eyes stormy. “This is so utterly selfish of her.”
“To her defense, Ames, she believes it’s for the best for her child. She looked devastated in the hospital—absolutely overwhelmed.”
“You saw her in the hospital?”
“And Grace agreed with her.”
“Grace knows?”
“Yeah. Raina lived with her while she was pregnant. I told Raina that we’d all help her, but she’s probably right. Owen isn’t going to be overjoyed with the knowledge that a one-night stand netted him a daughter. It’s not like he’s going to show up and suddenly become father of the year. She had no choice—”
Her eyes widened, and it stopped him cold. “You still love her.”
Her declaration stilled him. He shook his head, then again. Frowned.
“Oh, my . . .” She knelt in front of him. “You totally do because you’ve already forgiven her.”
“Because I had to. Because if I didn’t, she’d keep creeping into my head at night, and . . . Don’t judge me,” he said a little sadly. “But now you see why we have to be friends and nothing more. I can’t love her anymore. At least not like I used to. Now I’m trying to love her the way God wants me to.”
But she had pity in her eyes. “Why are you so crazy about her?”
Why . . . ? The question pinged inside him, bringing up all the feelings, the sweet memories of last summer. He came up with one word. “Belief. She believed in me. Made me feel like . . . when she looked at me, I could save the world. I was someone . . . valuable.”
He looked away, wrinkling his nose, wishing he could take those words back.
Her voice turned soft. “I have this feeling that Raina didn’t rejec
t you because she didn’t want you. She rejected you because she did, but she knew how wrong it was to want you and have Owen’s child. She rejected you because of shame.”
“I don’t think so.”
She touched his face. “I wish you could see what an amazing guy you are.”
He caught her hands, pulled them away from his face. “Not so amazing, Sis. Trust me on that. Especially since I’ve added ‘can’t keep a secret’ to my list of failings. You have to swear to me that you won’t tell Mom and Dad.”
She sat back on her haunches. “Oh, don’t do that to me.”
“I have to, Ames. You have to promise. She is trusting me with her secret.”
“She doesn’t deserve you or your friendship.” Then she sighed, held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” She crossed her heart and poked at her eye in the classic children’s gesture.
He reached out and grabbed her in a hug. “That guy is a fool.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said.
He put her away from him then. “You really loved him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She picked up the cereal bowl. Considered it for a moment, then stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen for more cereal.”
He took the remote. “You might as well bring the entire box.”
RAINA RUMMAGED AROUND her bathroom drawer searching for the eye drops, glancing again in the mirror at the disaster staring back.
She looked like she’d pulled an all-nighter—her hair stringy and limp, her skin sallow, her eyes—oh, her eyes. Cracked and angry.
Next time Monte decided to watch all three Lord of the Rings movies, she’d curl up on the other sofa or suggest they watch them, say, over three days.
Not until 4 a.m.
She held up the eye drops, blinked in the moisture. A drop trailed down her cheek, and she caught it with her hand, then stared again at the mess in front of her.
She’d scare Casper right off the porch.
But maybe that would be best for both of them. Monte obviously didn’t want her hanging out with Casper—and she didn’t want to upset Monte.
Because if Monte hated Casper so much, perhaps Casper felt the same about her new boyfriend.
Boyfriend. She rolled that word around in her head even as she pulled back her hair, braiding it. He’d held her all night, cocooned in his embrace, and when he’d left—after suggesting that he should just stay on her sofa—he’d caught her in a long, lingering kiss.
She couldn’t name the emotion it ignited. Probably she’d simply been too sleepy to respond. Still, disappointment hung in his eyes when she closed the door behind him, clearly sad to leave her.
As if she mattered to him.
Which, of course, accounted for why he didn’t want her to spend time with Casper. A little jealousy over past boyfriends seemed healthy.
She found a pair of jeans, a pink thermal shirt, a white fleece sweatshirt. Added a thermal headband to her hair. Then she returned to the bathroom, leaning on the marble counter, surveying any repairs she might make.
She attempted some mascara, but it only made her eyes stand out, bright, shocked. Wary.
And why not? A day spent with Casper, stirring up the past? Despite their friendly moments sleuthing out Aggie’s story, she could nearly hear the horns blaring, alerting her to danger.
She walked over to her bed, cast a wistful glance at her pillow, and pulled up the comforter. Smoothed it, fighting the urge to flop down on top.
A knock jerked her out of the moment, and she walked to the window, spied Casper’s truck parked outside at the curb.
He was stamping his feet at the door, dressed in a black parka, red stocking cap, jeans, and boots.
Raina took a deep breath, searching for the right words to turn him down, and went to the door.
He peered through the glass, and shoot, but he could wake a girl from the dead with that grin, those blue eyes that felt like pure sunshine to her soul. She opened the door, bracing herself, digging up the resolve that had fled at his smile.
“Hey, Watson, ready to go solve a mystery?”
She could ache with the power of his words to wrap around her, separate her from wisdom. She hung on to the door, not inviting him in from the cold. “I can’t.”
He’d been clapping his hands together; now he shoved them into his pockets. “Oh, really? Are you sick?”
She probably looked sick, so she forgave him for that, and yeah, she felt a little rumble inside but . . . “No, I just . . . I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She let that hang there, let him decide what she meant on his own.
He seemed to take it in, and his smile fell to a grim line. “Okay. Well, I understand. I just . . .” He lifted a shoulder, glanced at his truck. Back to her with a smile, nothing of blame in his expression. “You make a good sleuthing partner.”
She felt the response building inside, the urgency even as he turned to leave. “Wait!”
Casper stopped, glanced back at her.
“Wait, Casper. Yeah, I want to go. I’m tired is all. I stayed up late last night. Come in, and I’ll get my jacket.”
He hesitated a moment, however, testing her. “Are you sure? If you want to stay in and sleep . . . Winter is made for hibernating, after all.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sleep now, because she’d simply stare at the ceiling, thinking about Casper digging up photographs and clues and fearing that if she did sleep, images of Layla might crawl into her head.
At least, after six weeks, she’d started to sleep through the night without waking in a cold shudder.
“No, I’m not that tired. Really.” She ducked into her room, grabbed Aggie’s journal off her bedside table, tucked it into her bag, then returned to the foyer.
Casper’s gaze had fallen on Monte’s sweater, the one he’d taken off after the fire toasted her family room to a sauna. He’d worn a T-shirt underneath and forgot to grab the sweater when he left.
She made to offer an explanation, but Casper turned suddenly, again wearing that smile, bright, not a hint of accusation in his expression. “Ready?”
Shrugging on her jacket, she grabbed her hat, shoved her feet into a pair of UGGs, and tucked her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go, Sherlock.”
“The game’s afoot,” he said, and she laughed as he held the door open for her. The sky overhead hinted at a watery blue, the sun high and bright. Snow and ice silenced the harbor, and the wind curled the drifts into foamy sea shapes.
Casper held open her door but didn’t help her into the truck, although he did wait to close it behind her.
She noticed a file folder tucked into the well beside his seat. She glanced at it and found what looked like a number of printed Internet articles on Augustus Franklin and his daughter, Clara.
He got in. “Breakfast?”
Her stomach suddenly sat up and roared in agreement.
“Wait until you have some of Naniboujou’s sour cream coffee cake.” He pulled out, headed down the road, turning onto the highway out of town. “They also have a sweet bread pudding and rum sauce that will make your eyes roll back into your head.”
Okay, now she was ravenous. She pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering the pizza from last night. “Yum.”
“Do you miss cooking? Or are you liking your job at the antique shop?”
Nice that he didn’t call it the junk place. “I miss cooking. I made an eggplant lasagna last night.”
He made a slurping sound. “I have no doubt it was delicious.”
It touched her tongue to invite him over later, offer him a piece.
Wow. How had she gone from “No, this is a bad idea” to “Hey, wanna catch dinner together?”
And what if Monte finished his estate sale auction early? She didn’t want him traveling all the way back to Deep Haven to discover Casper at her table.
So she didn’t comment on the disastrous results of dinner. �
�I really loved working with Grace. She is an incredible cook.”
“Max is a lucky guy, but I happen to know that Grace depended on you. She told me you were her secret weapon.”
Truth or not, she appreciated the words. But she couldn’t turn around and flee to the Cities. Not yet, at least. Plus, Grace had already filled her position with Aliya, the culinary student.
No, she had to keep moving forward.
They drove along the big lake, the evergreen and birch thinning out to reveal chunks of aqua-blue ice that lay like jewels along the shoreline. Casper must have noticed her surveying the landscape.
“That happens when the temperature warms enough for the plate of ice along the shore to crack, and the natural waves and currents toss it onto the beach. Then it refreezes into this beautiful display of arctic color.”
“They say it’s the coldest winter ever up here.”
“Not the coldest, but yeah, you’re getting a good dose of chill.”
“I’ll bet you wish you were in the Caribbean right now.”
Silence. Then, “Not right now.”
Oh.
He took a breath. “So what’s the latest on Aggie and the journal?” They passed a bridge over a frozen river, the rocks shiny in the sunlight.
“Not much. Aggie arrived at Naniboujou, and apparently Duncan left her to go back to Chicago, promising to return and marry her. What I don’t get is, how did Aggie end up with Thor?”
They rounded a corner and he pointed to a lodge now appearing through the trees. “That’s Naniboujou.”
Trimmed in red, the two-story lodge appeared straight out of a storybook with its wood-shingled siding; the turreted roof; the tall, plate-glass, peaked windows; the red lampposts standing sentry along the exterior. Two giant wreaths hung on double-paned doors in the middle, and from the roof jutted a stone chimney.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It was built in the 1920s as a private club. One of the founding members was Babe Ruth. They envisioned a hunting lodge on the shore.” He turned at the drive, winding down to the lodge where it sat on the rocky, ice-cast shore. “Imagine flappers and roadsters—”
Always on My Mind Page 18
