KIRKLAND: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I had to admit that I saw the logic in his words. But I still felt uneasy about this whole thing. I wished we didn’t have to go in front of the judge. I wished…but wishes never did anybody any good, did they?

  *****

  Libby threw her arms around me the moment she stepped onto the tarmac, a huge smile on her pretty face.

  “Hello, Harry,” she said softly against my ear.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  She stepped back and studied my face, running soft fingertips along my unshaven jaw.

  “Having trouble sleeping?”

  I shrugged. “Night time is a good time for a long run.”

  She shook her head. “You should take better care of yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I turned, sliding a hand over her shoulder to lead her to the car. She climbed in, graceful in her business suit, offering me a wink as she pulled the seatbelt into place. I got in and started the car, driving a little too fast out of the private airport’s gates.

  “How’s it going with Finn and the case?”

  “We’re jumping right into it, huh?”

  “I figure it’s better to acknowledge the elephant in the room sooner rather than later.”

  I carefully pulled the car into traffic and turned onto the country highway that would take us to the small town that was JT’s home. I was buying time, pretending that this route I’d taken hundreds of times over the last six weeks or so was more complicated than it really was.

  “Finn wants Mom to testify.”

  “I have to admit, I was a little surprised you didn’t talk to her about it.”

  “I don’t think I want to know what she did. Then I would have to acknowledge to myself that it was her who created this mess.”

  “Mom was never an angel, Harry. Dad just outdid her because he was louder and more aggressive.”

  An image of my mother, beautiful and frail, flashed through my mind. My mom was always the person I could run to when my father was on a tirade, the one who let me hide behind her skirts when I was little and my father decided I needed a spanking to get me back on the right track. Later, she was the one who came into my bedroom with a peanut butter sandwich when my father sent me to bed without dinner, or who helped me sneak out when I was grounded but there was some party I wanted to go to. She was my coconspirator, my confidant. She knew about the tattoos, the drinking and the questionable behavior. She knew how desperately I wanted to be a teacher, how much I wanted to shape young minds. She knew how difficult it was for me to give up my dreams when my father passed away and the complete mess he’d left behind was revealed.

  My mom was my saving grace. To know now that she was also the one who stole my son’s childhood from me was almost unbearable. I wasn’t ready to face it.

  “JT is supposed to come over right after we get to my place. You’ll get to meet him.”

  “Finally.” Libby smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since you told me about him.”

  “Me too.”

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. Her smile widened as she tugged my hand against her thigh and ran her other hand over the back of it.

  Libby was…Libby and I had a complicated relationship. She was a child when I went off to college, only fifteen when our father died. She was a responsibility, someone else I had to watch over and care for in my father’s absence. Not only did I have to fix everything to protect our mother, not only did I have to keep my older brother from interfering in something he was never prepared to deal with, but I had this child I had to watch over, keep from trouble. I had to keep her from walking down the same road my brother and I had walked.

  And then she walks into my office one day, all of twenty years old and fresh from her college graduation, and she wanted a job. I nearly laughed her out of the office. Seven years later, I can’t imagine what I’d do without her.

  Now she was coming to meet my fifteen year old son with me.

  It felt almost poetic.

  We pulled up to my little house and I waited for the comment. I waited for her to pop off and make some remark about how it wasn’t anything like the elaborately designed and built house I had back in Ashland. But she didn’t say a word.

  Sometimes I forgot that Libby wasn’t a snob like so many of the people I surrounded myself with back in Oregon.

  I carried her bags inside and set them inside the guest room. I was about to offer her a drink when there was a knock on the door. Right on time. JT was like clockwork with his visits. He arrived every afternoon at four, paced the living room and asked me seemingly unconnected questions, and then left just as quietly, but punctually, as he’d arrived.

  I opened the door.

  “Hey,” he said, looking down at his shoes.

  “My sister’s here,” I said, wanting to give him some sort of warning. But then I felt Libby’s hand on my back. I stepped aside and watched as JT’s eyes came up to take in her welcoming expression.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, JT,” Libby said. “Harry’s told me so much about you.”

  “Harry?” JT glanced at me and a smile burst like a bubble on his face. “You call him Harry?”

  “Doesn’t he look like a Harry?” Libby jabbed her elbow into my side. “I always thought he did.”

  JT nodded as he regarded me with the most open curiosity he’d displayed all week. “He does, actually.”

  Libby slipped her arm around JT and pulled him into the house, the two of them laughing and joking like old friends. Leave it to my sister to win my son over that quickly!

  I felt like a third wheel, watching them get to know each other. I think I learned more about JT in that hour than I’d learned teaching him literature for a month.

  Was this what it was like to be a parent?

  Chapter 15

  Penelope

  “Go home, Penny,” Nick said, coming up behind me and rubbing my shoulders a little too roughly for a long minute. “You look exhausted.”

  “There’s no point. I can’t sleep, anyway.”

  “Yes, well, you could spend a little time with JT.”

  I snorted. Spending time with JT was like having long, drawn out conversations with a blank wall. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions, unless I asked him what he wanted for dinner. But he was there. And he was engaging—sort of. That was a one hundred and eighty degree spin from the way he was before. But, still, it was difficult walking that field of landmines—not asking him questions about Harrison even though that was the only thing I really wanted to talk about.

  I’d gone to all these lawyers, and none of them could help me. Jack was more than eager to help, but he had no fresh ideas and almost no optimism that we might be able to win. The only thing I had was the adoption papers my parents signed nearly sixteen years ago and the custody order I was given when my parents died. And those, Jack assured me, should carry some weight. Unless, of course, the judge threw out the validity of the original adoption order. Then we had nothing other than JT’s testimony to stand on.

  And I wasn’t sure what JT would say when he was alone with the judge in his chambers. I think that scared me more than anything else.

  “Go home,” Nick said again, his voice gentle, but dripping with concern.

  I lowered my head, pressing my hands against my face. I was tired. I hadn’t slept in days. All I could think about was this custody fight. And Harrison. Harrison was on my mind a lot more than I cared to admit. And it was tearing me apart inside. I ached for him. It was a physical ache, a need like nothing I have ever known before. But he was threatening to take away everything that mattered to me. The conflict was unbearable and it colored everything in my life right now.

  I got up and grabbed my jacket, sliding it over my arms as I made my way outside. There was a little chill to the air today as though Mother Nature were sympathizing with my predicament. I walked, deciding I needed the extra time to gather my t
houghts. Or maybe I just wanted to indulge in them so that I wouldn’t be obsessing when JT came home for what could be our last night alone together.

  The house was quiet when I walked in. I flipped on a few lights to fight the gathering gloom and went into the kitchen, shedding my jacket as I searched through the refrigerator for something edible to make for dinner. I guess I should have gone shopping for the ingredients to JT’s favorite food. The only problem was, his favorite meal changed from day to day, depending on how he was feeling that day. He used to like Mom’s fried chicken, but announced six months ago that it was too salty and too greasy. He used to like tacos, but apparently I didn’t make them as well as Taco Bell. The only thing he seemed to like consistently was hamburgers and fries. But we’d already indulged that craving once this week.

  I dragged out some salad vegetables and a couple of steaks that had been in the freezer so long they were almost unrecognizable. Who doesn’t like steak, right?

  I was about to lay a thawed steak on the hot grill when the front door burst open and JT came storming into the room.

  “Hey, Penny,” he said, a big smile on his face.

  “Hey.”

  “Harrison wants to talk to you.”

  I turned around, almost expecting Harrison to be standing behind him, but there was no one there. I looked expectantly at JT. He had his head in the refrigerator, but he has the sixth sense that most teenagers have.

  “He’s outside,” he mumbled as he backed up, a soda in his hands.

  “Watch the steaks,” I said, wiping my hands on a towel as I headed for the door.

  What could this be about?

  A flash of memory rushed through my mind: Harrison pushing me back against my desk in what was once my mother’s office, his hands under my shirt.

  I blushed, grateful for the rush of cool wind that immediately touched my burning skin.

  He was standing by his car, his arms crossed over his chest. I could imagine what he must look like in a board room. He would be wearing an expensive suit instead of the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing now. And he would have a group of people around him, willing to do anything he asked of them at a second’s notice. But he would have this same determined look on his face despite the casual way in which he leaned back against the car.

  When he saw me, he straightened, his eyes moving slowly over the length of me, from the ponytail I’d haphazardly tied my hair into to the pink blouse that was spotted with flour and the black slacks that were also a little worse for wear after hours in the bakery.

  I could just imagine what he was thinking of me. The outfit was three years out of fashion, the shoes scuffed and in great need of polish. And the dark shadows under my eyes…how unprofessional.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, clipping my words to suggest annoyance I didn’t really feel.

  “I was wondering if we could talk about tomorrow.”

  “What about it?”

  “Do we really want to put JT through this?”

  My eyebrows rose as I crossed my own arms over my chest, trying to imitate his stance. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “I’m aware of that.” He inclined his head just slightly. “But we could end it. If we could come up with some sort of compromise—“

  “I’m not interested in a compromise. I don’t want you coming back in a few months, dragging us through this all over again if we can bring everything to a solid bit of closure now.”

  Harrison nodded, dropping his hands to slide them into his pockets. “And if it goes against you?”

  Pain sliced through my chest at the thought. I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “What if we worked out some sort of agreement?” he asked softly. “What if we shared custody? I would be willing to work with whatever schedule you thought was best.”

  The idea was tempting. I have to admit that. But it would be an agreement that would have to be built on trust as much as legal maneuvering. And I wasn’t sure trusting Harrison was something I could do right now.

  And I’d made a promise to my mom long before her death that if anything happened to them, I would do all I could to protect JT. Would making a deal with the devil constitute everything? Or was that just giving in before I’d done all I could to protect my brother?

  Harrison stepped toward, perhaps aware of the war going on inside of me.

  “I want what’s best for JT, Penelope,” he said quietly. “I don’t think dragging him to court is the best thing.”

  And that cut through me. I can’t really say why, but his words hurt more than I thought I was capable of hurting at this point. I looked up at him, the hurt only spreading as I took in the compassion radiating from his eyes.

  “You started this. I have no choice but to finish it.”

  I turned away and stormed back to the house, brushing away angry tears as I slammed the door behind me.

  “You okay?” JT asked as he peeked out from around the corner of the kitchen archway.

  “Fine.”

  He stared at me, his jaw working like he wanted to say something. But then he took a swig of his soda and stepped back as I brushed past him into the kitchen.

  “I met my aunt today,” he said.

  I glanced at him as I stabbed at the steaks and turned them over.

  “Aunt?”

  “Yeah. Harrison has a sister.”

  Another thing I hadn’t known about him.

  “What she like?”

  “She’s really cool. Maybe you’ll meet her tomorrow.”

  “Maybe.” I grabbed my own soda out of the fridge and leaned back against the counter. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  JT shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

  “It shouldn’t take long. But Jack said we probably won’t get a decision right away.”

  JT didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his crazy long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the counter across from me. I watched him sip his soda and found myself wondering why I’d never noticed the resemblance between him and Harrison. He really did look like him now that I knew what to look for. His dark hair, the curls that were so unruly when he let it grow out. The shape of his face, the lankiness of his height. It was all so subjective—each of them wore it a little different. But there was enough similarity that it was a little surreal to me.

  “I know this has all been pretty crazy,” I said. “But can I ask you what you think about Harrison? As your biological father, I mean.”

  JT shrugged. “I love Mom and Dad,” he said, raising those pale blues to me. “But there’s always been this thought at the back of my mind… that someone out there decided, even before I was born, that I wasn’t good enough for them.”

  “That’s not what it was, JT.”

  “I know.” He sighed as he ran his finger over the rim of his soda can. “But it was there anyway. And then Mom and Dad died and you came to take care of me, and I knew you weren’t happy about it. You never wanted to give up your life in New York. And that made me feel like I was some sort of burden to you.”

  I shook my head, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of his words. I wanted to know what he thought.

  “And then…”

  He looked up at me, tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave you, Penny. But I want to get to know my dad. I want to meet the rest of his family—my family—and I want to know where I fit in. I want to see what my life might have been like if I’d never been adopted.”

  All I could do was nod. I didn’t want him to know the storm he’d just unleashed inside of me. I didn’t want to hurt him even a fraction of the way he just hurt me.

  I turned back to the steaks and pulled them off the grill.

  “Time to eat,” I said in a voice I didn’t even recognize.

  Chapter 16

  Harrison

  Julia opened the door, her hair wet from the shower. She smiled when she saw me, her arms flying open to welc
ome me into her embrace.

  “It’s always so good to see you, Harrison,” she said against my ear. “I just wish it was under happier circumstances.”

  “Thank you for doing this.”

  She stepped back and nodded, dabbing at a couple of tears that threatened to ruin her eye makeup. “Come in. Tell me about him.”

  I followed her into the hotel room, recklessly thinking that it was sure a step up from the dingy little motel where my friends and I took rooms the summer I met her. There had been stains on the sheets that we joked about before we added to them with late night takeout and…well, other things.

  She took a seat in a straight back chair that looked uncomfortable and crossed her legs, playing with a pen between her fingers as she watched me. I was too restless to sit, so I leaned against the wall.

  “He goes by JT. And he’s…”

  I hesitated, searching for the right metaphors to describe JT. But none came to mind.

  “I bet he’s like you,” she said.