by Regan Black
A bomb. Nicole shivered. “You do realize my son was there?” she asked, her tone frosty. “How dare you call me and act as if I am capable of such a thing? Despite what you might choose to believe, that is my home. Mine and Jacob’s.”
“Did you burn the will?” Theresa asked, as if Nicole hadn’t spoken. “Because you should know if he had a will drawn up somewhere, I will find it. I know in my mother’s heart that he wouldn’t have wanted you to have everything.”
“Do you?” Nicole now regretted answering. “Because no matter what kind of crazy thoughts are running through your head, your son and I were married when he died. We were not separated, and neither of us had filed for divorce.”
“And now you’ve already taken up with another man,” Theresa continued. “My son is barely in the ground and you’re running around with your old high school sweetheart. For all I know, you and he were carrying on before Bill died. That’s no kind of environment for a baby.”
“How dare you.” Though Nicole shook from anger, she kept her voice level. “Do not even presume to insinuate such nasty untruths against me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? Then why don’t you explain exactly what you’re doing living with that man?”
“Though I owe you absolutely nothing, least of all an explanation, I will tell you this. I’m doing what I have to in order to take care of my son. We have a roof over our heads now. Jacob will be cool and dry and fed.”
She thought about informing Theresa about the credit card statement of Bill’s that she’d found, and the clear indication that Bill had a long-term mistress. Also, she wondered if Theresa actually knew how much her son drank and gambled, or that Nicole suspected he might have even started using illegal drugs.
But that would be stooping to the other woman’s level, and Nicole would never do that.
“I’m tired of defending myself to you,” Nicole said.
Theresa started to speak, but Nicole wasn’t finished. “I’m not sure what happened between us, or why you’re willing to believe such terrible things about me. But whatever the reason, I don’t need this kind of drama in my life. I’m going to have to ask you not to call me again unless you can be civil.” Finger shaking, she pressed the red icon on her phone and ended the call.
While she and Bill’s mother had never been remotely close, her heart sank at the realization that Bill’s words had clearly made Theresa willing to believe the worse of her without actual proof.
“You did what you had to in order to have a roof over your head?” Kyle asked. She turned to find him standing about five feet away from her. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
Shame made her flush, even though she knew she had absolutely nothing to feel ashamed about. “That was my ex-mother-in-law. Apparently, the town gossips are really going at it. She practically accused me of having an affair with you before Bill died.”
“That would have been really difficult to do, considering I was in the hospital,” he mused.
“True. But now she thinks I’m sleeping with you in order to have a place to stay.”
“Interesting.” He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.
Though his bland tone seemed impersonal, the spark in his green eyes made warmth blossom inside her. Suddenly flustered, she realized she probably looked like a mess. “I, uh…” She grabbed her clothes off the dresser and gave him a pointed look. “If you don’t mind moving, I need to get into the bathroom.”
“Sorry.” Sounding anything but, he pushed himself off and ambled away. “Coffee in the kitchen whenever you’re ready.”
After attending to her usual morning routine sans shower since she’d taken one last night, she returned to her room, teeth brushed, fully clothed. The smell of fresh coffee drifted down the hallway, tantalizing her.
When she reached the kitchen, he jumped up from his chair and poured her a cup, adding one sugar and some creamer, just the way she liked it. Bemused, she accepted the coffee, pulling out the chair opposite him and dropping into it.
“What’s all this about with your mother-n-law?” he asked. “Why is she so antagonistic?”
She grimaced and shook her head. “No idea. I married her son, I guess. I mean, she’s never really been friendly, but after Bill died, she declared out-and-out war. So far, she’s accused me of murdering him, destroying his will and carrying on an affair. Oh, and threatened to try to get custody of my son. She planned the funeral without even consulting me, and is acting as if her son should be sainted or something.”
The coffee tasted wonderful. As she sipped, she found herself telling Kyle all about the credit card statement she’d found and turned over to the police.
“Did you mention that to Theresa?” he asked.
“No. Until there’s something absolutely certain, I’m reluctant to destroy her memory of her son.”
Kyle’s brows rose as he eyed her over the brim of his coffee cup. “That’s weirdly noble of you.”
Those words hurt. Once, Kyle had known her so well he would have been able to predict what she’d do.
“Maybe.” Gazing at him, she begged him silently to see her, really see her, the way he used to. “There’s enough evil and hatred in this world. I see no need to add to it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You have no idea,” he said, his tone flat. “While you’ve been living here in your perfect little world, I’ve seen and done things that would make you sick.”
For a second, she bowed her head, summoning all her inner strength and composure. Lifting her chin, she kept her voice as measured and emotionless as she could. “You have no idea what my life was like. Despite the fact that everyone in town believes Bill Mabry was a perfect saint of a man, he wasn’t. He drank too much and when he did, he liked to use me as his punching bag. He made sure I had no friends and I’m sure if I hadn’t already been isolated from my family, he would have done that too. I just found out he had a mistress, so I’m going to have to take myself to the doctor and get tested for an STD. In fact, I was putting aside every dollar I could, because one day I hoped to take Jacob and leave him.”
When she finished, with both her voice and her body shaking, she had to struggle to catch her breath. “So don’t you dare speak to me about how wonderful you think my life was, because it was the opposite.”
For the space of a heartbeat, they stared at each other. Her throat ached, her soul exhausted.
“Christ, Nicole.” He crossed the space between them and yanked her up against him. His mouth covered hers, possessive, demanding, hungry. Like a match to dry tinder, she went up in flames, as she knew she always would with this man. Again, and again.
Until she realized he pitied her.
Horrified, she pushed at him. Hard. When he released her, she stumbled back away from him, fist against her mouth.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. “Don’t,” she ordered. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Pity?” His lips twisted. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? How badly I want you? This isn’t pity, Nicole, I can promise you that.”
“We can’t,” she said, even as her traitorous body curved toward him.
He caught her, or pulled her, or both and they ended up in each other’s arms again. Mouth on mouth, on skin, her curves fitting into his hollows, thrilling at his body’s hardness. Too far gone to take it slow, mindless with need and desire, they tore at each other’s clothes, eager to more fully connect, skin to skin.
Finally, still standing, her back against the wall, he pushed himself into her. Ready, her body moist, she arched her back, accepting his hardness, thrilling at how familiar and yet how new he felt. Kyle. Kyle. He filled her, completed her, and she climaxed moments after that first thrust.
“Oh,” she cried out, surprised and then not surprised, her release washing over her like
an East Texas thunderstorm.
Jaw tight, he held himself perfectly still while her body clenched around his. Then, just as she sagged against him, he began to move. Slowly, watching her as he made love to her, until she reached up to him and pulled him close, so she could kiss him.
The instant their lips met, he took over. She fell into his kiss, drowning in the taste of him. Familiar, so achingly, intoxicatingly familiar. When his mouth left hers, blazing a path down her neck to her breasts, she arched her neck and moaned.
The strokes of his tongue, the movement of his lips as he tasted her skin, sent a shiver through her core. It had always been like this between them, instantly combustible.
Her knees went weak as he began to move again, pushing himself deep into her, filling her. With each stroke, her body shuddered. He made a sound, a groan, a guttural cry, and she opened her eyes and watched as he battled to keep his tenuous grip on self-control.
She saw the instant he abandoned all restraint, and felt it a second later, when the pace of his movement increased.
When she felt herself begin to shatter, she struggled to hold on, to wait for him, but could not. Finally she let go, abandoning herself to the pleasure. He followed her a moment later.
With him still inside her, they held on to each other until their breathing evened out and their heartbeats slowed. She wondered if his reality had shifted the same way hers had. How could it have not? After lovemaking like this, how could he not see that they’d always been meant to stay together?
After another moment, he carefully disentangled himself from her. As he turned away, his entire body rigid, she read anger in the tightness of his jaw.
Though he didn’t say a word, she knew what that meant.
“Don’t,” she said, the single word stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t you dare turn this into something wrong. Because as far as I’m concerned, this is not only right, but something beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” Finally, he looked at her. The tortured, self-reproach in his eyes made her stomach twist. “We can’t keep hanging on to the past, Nicole. Do you know why?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“It can’t be changed. What happened since then is the new reality. You can’t expect the two to mesh all perfect and neat.”
“Why not?” She challenged him. “Who says we don’t deserve a second chance at happiness?”
The anger faded from his face, replaced by something worse. Sadness. “Let me ask you something. Are you the same person you were when you said goodbye to me that last time?”
Of course she wasn’t. She was a mother now, a widow. She’d mourned the death of the only man she’d ever loved, believing she’d never survive the grief. Her marriage had been intolerable, but she’d hung in there and been the best wife she could. Her son had been her only reason for living.
“No, I’m not the same,” she finally answered. “I’ve weathered a lot of storms in the year since you left.”
“Exactly.” He said this with grim satisfaction. “You’re not the same person you were. And Nicole, neither am I.”
Her heart squeezed, though she kept her face expressionless. “All we can do is try the best we can,” she told him. “Maybe if we take it day by day, we might be able to see our way to…” She stopped, wondering if speaking of a possible future together would be the wrong thing to do. Yet.
“Let me know what your insurance company says,” he finally said, once again impersonal. “I’d like an idea how long it will be before you can go back home.”
With that, he turned, grabbed his clothes off the floor and left the room.
Gathering up her scattered clothing along with the remnants of her pride, she took an extra-long, hot shower, an unabashed attempt to wash away the hold he had on her heart and body.
While she didn’t know what all had happened to him while in Afghanistan, she’d read enough to understand how that could change a man. She knew some soldiers never found their way back.
If she had a say in it, Kyle would not be one of those men. Welcome or not, she’d do her best to try and help him.
After showering, she bathed and changed Jacob and fed him. Settling into a new routine here in a different house felt strange, but she took comfort in the fact that she and Jacob had survived the fire intact.
With Jacob on the sofa next to her, she made a few phone calls, one to her insurance agent to turn in a claim, another to the fire department to see if they’d reached any sort of determination. Though she didn’t get to speak directly to the fire department captain, the firefighter she spoke with told her someone from the arson investigation office would be in touch with her shortly. And no, she was still not allowed inside her own house.
Arson. Just as the firefighters had suspected. But why? She had to believe that even the Mabrys, as senselessly furious with her as they were, wouldn’t do something like this.
Which begged the question of who would? One of Bill’s enemies? His mistress? A disgruntled employee? She had to hope both the fire department and the police would find out.
Kyle came through on his way out shortly after she’d ended the call. She told him what the firefighter had said. “I thought so,” he said, perching on the edge of the sofa. As usual, her mouth went dry at the sight of him.
“I was hoping the investigation would prove otherwise.” She shook her head. “Who would do such a thing and why?”
“I’d start making a list to give to the police. It can’t hurt.”
He had a point.
“I’ve got some things to do today,” he told her. “Feel free to hang out here if you want. You can use my laptop if you need to access the internet, and you’re welcome to help yourself to anything you want in the pantry or fridge.”
“Thank you.” She summoned a smile from somewhere. His remote expression and the impersonal pleasantry of his tone made her heart ache.
And then, hating herself for doing so, she stood and watched out the front window as he got into his truck and drove away.
Waiting on the fire department to call, she put Jacob down for a nap and grabbed the laptop. She began scouring the internet for articles on PTSD. She learned that all over the country there were various innovative programs helping vets overcome this disorder. From farming to camps, volunteering and therapy, each seemed to help in their own way. But it was the final article that caught her attention and seemed the most doable. An organization that provided service dogs for veterans with PTSD.
Kyle had always liked dogs. In fact, in all the numerous discussions between the two of them about the future, he’d always said he wanted a dog. He was a natural—every canine he’d ever met had taken to him instantly. And now, he had a house with a yard. She figured his landlord would be amenable; in fact he’d have to be if the dog were a service animal.
The only problem she could see in all this was that Kyle would have to apply. Not only did she suspect he wouldn’t be a fan of this idea, but she knew there probably would be a huge waiting list.
Maybe they could find a dog and work with it themselves. Not only would this give Kyle something to focus on, but owning a pet would help him realize he wasn’t all alone.
She sat back, feeling as if, in the middle of chaos, she’d managed to accomplish one small thing. Helping Kyle. If only he would let her.
* * *
Kyle had no idea why he pulled into the used car lot after spotting the motorcycle for sale. Maybe it was because, in his younger days, he’d longed for a bike exactly like it. The custom black paint job highlighted the motorcycle’s clean lines and rugged shape. Once upon a time, before he’d gotten a clue and signed up for the army, he’d dreamt of making a cross-country trip on the back of a bike, with Nicole sitting close right behind him. Open road, wind in the hair—though of course they’d both be wearing helmets—and freedom. All the things he’d never
had and, since he and Nicole had begun to plan their future together, never wanted.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted it now. Running wouldn’t help him escape the horrible knowledge of what Nicole had been through. The images would remain in his mind, every time he closed his eyes.
But then, he thought, circling the bike thoughtfully, what did he have? A rented house with rented furniture and another man’s wife. Nightmares and night sweats and the overwhelming, all-encompassing fear of something awful waiting right around every corner.
Since he’d gotten his motorcycle license at Fort Benning and he’d done his fair share of riding while stationed there, he bought the bike. A 2005 Harley-Davidson Sportster XL. Even though the price seemed reasonable, he haggled with the salesman, an older round-faced man named Scott, and got the amount down. Then he went to the bank, withdrew enough cash to cover it and the bike was his. He also purchased a helmet and a pair of riding gloves.
Once the paperwork had been completed, he talked Scott into following him home in his truck. With the engine rumbling under him, he drove his new toy slowly, carefully, getting to know the feel of the bike. Once he reached the small house, he pulled up into the driveway and parked. Climbing off, he walked around the Harley—his Harley—once more, amazed that he’d done something so impulsive. It felt…good.
After driving Scott back to the lot, they shook hands. When the other man thanked him for his service, surprised, Kyle asked him how he knew.
“You’re kind of famous in this town,” Scott said, beaming. “I feel honored that I was able to sell you that bike.”
Bemused, Kyle thanked him and drove back to his little house. As he pulled up, he caught sight of the bike, gleaming in the sunlight, and smiled.
Nicole hurried outside just as he’d climbed on the bike, intending to take it for another spin.
“Oh,” Nicole said, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk where it met the driveway. “I wondered where that thing came from.”
“It’s mine,” he told her. Genuinely curious to see her reaction, he waited.
