[Piper Anderson 01.0] Three Seconds to Rush

by Danielle Stewart

  That was the thing about being young, though. That reality, the knowledge that children had been crushed and killed by sand, wasn’t enough to deter him from climbing the dunes. It should have been. The way his mother begged and nagged him should have been enough. But youth is its own version of suffocating. It was the lack of air getting to the part of your brain that controlled judgment and common sense. Every minute, every choice could be your last, but you never knew it.

  Right now, with Tara draped in his arms like a ragdoll, he could finally understand the bone-deep worry his mother must have felt. Guilt filled him as he considered how many times he ignored her desperate pleas and did whatever the hell he wanted.

  Tara stirred as he laid her gently on his bed. “Tara, wake up. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” she managed through her faltering voice. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I’ve got plenty,” he argued, lying beside her. It should have felt strange, unnatural, but lying next to her was the most normal thing he’d done in a long time. It’s how they watched monster movie marathons at her house every Friday that first summer they met. It’s how they lay after that first night he finally asked her where her parents were all the time, and she told him how scared she really was to be alone.

  “The pizza will be here in a few minutes. No getting worked up until you’ve eaten and had something to drink.” He rolled on his side, propped his head on his hand and waited for her to do the same. That was how they used to talk, inches from each other, sitting in the dark so anything they said could get swallowed up by the night.

  “Did you know I loved you?” she asked, rolling just as he hoped she would and facing him. But the question was unexpected.

  “What do you mean?” he stalled, employing his courtroom tactics.

  “Before I left, did you know how I felt about you, or were you oblivious? I know back then the two years age difference probably felt like a lifetime of difference. You saw me as a little kid.”

  “For a while,” he admitted, so grateful the darkness of his bedroom created a shield to hide behind. “But that changed. You changed and I saw you differently.”

  “But did you know I loved you?” she pressed.

  “Yes,” he edged out against his better judgment. Maybe this would upset her and she’d be overwhelmed again. But she deserved the truth. He’d been holding it captive all those years, and it wasn’t fair to her. “I think I knew toward the end, the night I kissed you.”

  “And that’s why you were gone when I woke up?” Tara asked, sounding as if lying down was helping her regain some of her composure. “You didn’t feel the same way, so you left.”

  “That wasn’t it,” Reid said, letting his mind search for the truth he hid from himself. “I did care about you, and that kiss . . . it meant something to me. I was just scared. No one ever got me the way you did, and I thought everything would change. I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to let you down and that was all I felt capable of doing. I was being a screwup and no one deserved that less than you did.”

  “Everything was changing already,” she whispered. “I was already losing you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, aching at the memories. He could recall every time he blew her off to do something with a bunch of people who didn’t give a damn about him. “I was an idiot. And then when I needed you, you were there. But look what it cost you. If I hadn’t gone to your house that day, if that cop hadn’t been paying attention to the house, you would still have been around. I’ll never forgive myself for how that went down.”

  “You really think all of that was your fault?” Tara asked, a spark back in her voice. “It was going to happen sooner or later. I was actually relieved when they took me away.”

  “You were?” he asked, remembering the look in Tara’s eyes when the car from Child Protective Services pulled into her driveway. “It didn’t look like that when you were leaving.”

  “It was just the shock of it,” Tara explained, trying to make him feel better. Her attempt was transparent. “But it was the right thing. I couldn’t keep going that way. I was alone all the time.”

  “But the way things went after that,” Reid said solemnly. “I tried to get in touch with you. But you never called me. I couldn’t track you down. Why didn’t you ever call me?” His rising voice gave away his hurt, the complete confusion he’d built up over the years.

  She drew in a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. “My life would never be the same, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. I figured you’d be mad, but you’d get over it. If you knew how things really happened, you’d blame yourself no matter how I tried to convince you otherwise. I didn’t want you beating yourself up over something that wasn’t your fault. I guess maybe you did anyway.”

  “I just figured you went with your aunt like you said. I thought you were pissed at me, and that’s why you didn’t call. When I finally tracked her down in New Hampshire, it was the first time I realized something was wrong.” Reid remembered knocking on the door of the old cabin in the woods fully expecting to find Tara there. He’d built up this image of her in his mind. Tara was busy reading books and swimming in the lake, probably making tons of friends in her new school. She was never alone anymore. He was sure of it. When the door had opened and he heard Tara had never made it to New Hampshire, his stomach had flipped and his palms had begun to sweat.

  “My aunt had gotten married to someone after a few months of dating, and he wasn’t very fond of kids. Children services called and she wasn’t interested in becoming my custodian.” He was amazed how matter-of-factly she recounted what must have been a crushing reality at the time.

  “And you went to Texas?” he asked, imagining how frightening it must have been. “Your uncle or something? That was the most I could get out of your aunt. She didn’t want me there.”

  “That makes two of us.” She laughed, and it clawed at his heart for her to joke about it. “He wasn’t really my uncle,” Tara explained. “He was my great aunt’s second ex-husband. She’d died the year before. I’d met him once when I was little. I think he was third or fourth on the list, but he had room for me and everyone seemed satisfied it would keep me out of foster care.”

  “How . . .” he stuttered nervously, “how was it there?”

  “Fine,” she chirped, too pleasantly to be telling the truth. “I stayed out of the way. Worked a thousand hours a week at the local ice cream shop and saved enough to get out of there when I turned eighteen. I made my way back to Boston and started working here. After a year or so I actually had the stupid notion that I could go to college. But it didn’t turn out that way. TJ and I met, and six weeks later I was pregnant.”

  “I would have come for you,” Reid said, his eyes trying to focus through the darkness so he could see her face. The edges were there, but she still felt far away. “If you would have called me, I’d have gone to Texas and gotten you. I don’t care what it would have taken. I know you’re making it sound better than it was down there, and I wish you’d have reached out to me then. I thought about you all the time, and I just imagined you were so angry with me.”

  “I wasn’t angry with you,” she said, and he could sense her smile. “Maybe I was angry with the world, with fate, but I was never angry with you. I kept loving you the whole time.”

  “Then why didn’t you call me? You knew I’d be there.”

  “I think that’s why I never called. I was convinced my life was this vortex, and I’d suck you in and ruin the chance you had at being happy. You don’t have to admit it, but think about what your life would have been like if you had to come rescue me.”

  “There were ways we could have made things work,” he sighed, knowing she was probably right.

  “Even when I returned, I knew you were off living your life. You were far easier to keep tabs on than I was. I knew you graduated and went to college. I asked around about you, and Pepper Roosevelt said you were dati
ng a girl named Lulu. She said you’d brought her to some parties back in town and everyone loved her. You loved her.”

  “I thought I did,” he cut in, remembering Lulu’s short blonde hair and sparkling white teeth. “She was a nice girl but I didn’t love her.”

  “Why not?” Tara asked, genuinely sounding interested in the answer.

  “It was too easy to be with her,” he admitted, thinking back to the way Lulu agreed with anything he said. She was never put out by a mistake he made, never overly critical of anything he did. “I didn’t have the right words for it then, but she was an enabler. I’m always halfway down the slide to hell, you know that. I’m hanging on, climbing up, and the last thing I need is a woman who is willing to slide down with me. I hear myself say it, but my last ten years of dating has basically been the same thing. These women are all brilliant and kind, and they think I’m perfect. They expect me to be and inevitably when I’m not, they keep pretending I am. It’s a game and it usually goes on too long.”

  “That’s sad,” Tara huffed, fluffing her pillow a little. “Why do you keep doing it? Why pick the same kind of woman?”

  “I think they pick me.” He laughed. “I need someone like . . .” He paused, remembering this moment was bigger than just two friends lying in a bed. Tara was still in serious trouble and he was charged with helping her out of it. No sense in complicating things with the truth. “I need someone who tells me I’m an idiot and jerks me back where I belong. I need to be held accountable when I’m sinking.”

  “You and Wylie are the only people I’ve ever really loved,” she admitted, sniffling now. He could hear her wiping her cheeks and trying to compose herself. “I didn’t know TJ long enough to really love him, and by the time I thought I could, the drugs had hold of him. Every single person in my life has treated me like I’m disposable, except you. You never did.”

  “I let them take you away,” he said, seeing the flash of her face pressed to the glass window of the Child Protective Services car as it sped away.

  “There was nothing you could do,” she assured him, reaching her hand out and touching his cheek. Her fingers were cold and small. Reaching up, he covered them with his own warm hand and held them on his cheek. He wanted to pull her fingers to his lips and kiss them gently. But he didn’t.

  “You have to sleep tonight. Josh said so. I know you’re tired. I should shut up and let you sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep tonight,” Tara hummed.

  “Why are you so sure?” He let her hand go reluctantly.

  “I’ve never slept better in my life than when you used to crash on my floor. I always gave you a hard time about it, but when you climbed in my window I knew for that night everything would be all right.”

  “I don’t know if everything will be all right,” he admitted, wanting to remind her how serious the situation was and how little control they had over it.

  “I just need you on my team. I don’t need you to use everything you know and everything logic tells you, I need your heart. I need my best friend, because if this doesn’t work out, if we fail, you’re the guy I am going to have by my side. All right?”

  The doorbell rang and he felt her jump. “The pizza,” he said, rolling off the bed. The timing had either been perfect or terrible, depending on if he wanted to answer her question. But she deserved at least that. “I’m on your team, Tara,” he promised as he slipped out of the room. He realized he’d been confusing the issues. It wasn’t a matter of whether he could fix everything for her or make this like it had never happened. There was a big chance he couldn’t accomplish that. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t stand by her, be there for her, and help pick up the pieces.

  Like the old days, when she was hurting, he’d do what he could. It wasn’t about fixing her parents or making her life better. Sometimes it was just bringing her pizza, watching some terrible movies, and letting her know she wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 22

  The smell of bacon was powerful enough to penetrate the soft edges of Tara’s dream world. The visions of Wylie’s tiny hand in hers as he teetered toward the park vanished, and she groaned sadly.

  “I thought you’d be happy for breakfast in bed,” Reid said too cheerfully, obviously not knowing her simplest yet most profound joy had just been snatched from her again.

  “I was dreaming of Wylie,” she admitted as she scooted to a sitting position and pulled the blanket up over her. It had been fine for her to hang around in a long oversized shirt when they were kids, but now they were grown. Age did that to you, Tara found; it gave you more reasons to cover up, to hide.

  “Are you feeling any better?” Reid asked, sliding a tray of food onto her lap. It smelled far better than it looked but as she dug in hungrily she found it tasted just fine. “I’m not much of a cook. I went to the store this morning while you were sleeping.”

  “You didn’t have to do all that,” she said with a mouthful of eggs. “But it is delicious. Thank you.”

  “I’m going to the Oldens’ today,” Reid said tentatively, knowing that would send Tara into a frenzy. “Before you say anything, you cannot come. I’m going to be discussing the civil case with them. I can’t represent you in that case; I’d be doing you a disservice. It’s not my area of expertise, but I can at least discuss it with them, try to get a better understanding of any room for compromise.”

  “What kind of compromise?” Tara asked, tightening her grip on the fork and tensing up. “I’m not going to make some kind of deal when it comes to Wylie.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to,” he promised, tossing his hands up disarmingly. “I’m going to see what we’re up against. Maybe they only want Wylie in their lives. Maybe they’d even be willing to become part of your support system. It’s worth a conversation.”

  “You think you’ll see him?” she asked, biting at the inside of her lip to keep the pain in her heart at bay. She tasted blood, waiting for his answer.

  “I’m not sure. I’m meeting them at their home, so there’s a good chance. I can’t really tell him anything for you.”

  “I know,” she nodded, her mind racing for some way to connect with Wylie even if she couldn’t be there. “Just maybe if you see him, call him Pumpkin. That’s what I call him.” Her eyes went wide and pleading, but she didn’t care how pathetic it made her seem.

  “I will,” Reid agreed, heading nervously for the door. “Willow is going to come by and pick you up in a little while. She said she’s got a lead on the anonymous 911 caller. No clue how she managed that, but maybe you can make something of it together.”

  “Thank you for last night, Reid. For everything, really. I can hear myself. I know there are moments when I’m not sounding grateful. But know that I am. I couldn’t get through any of this without you.”

  “You’re so tough, Tara. I have a sneaking suspicion you could get through anything without me, but I’m glad you don’t have to.”

  He stepped out of the room and a few minutes later she heard his car start in the driveway. It was strange to be in his home without him. The room was sparse. Just like his office, it was void of anything personal. His closet door, half opened, showed neatly hung clothes fresh from the dry cleaner and shoes precisely lined up on the floor.

  Everything in his life seemed stripped down and in order. Her house was usually littered with crushed cereal or clothes piled high, waiting for the next trip to the laundromat, a task that never seemed convenient or easy with Wylie in tow. Fighting off envy of the simplicity of Reid’s life, Tara reminded herself that he was missing out on so much. He’d probably never stepped on an unforgiving baby toy at two in the morning while trying to get a toddler to the bathroom before the toddler threw up on the floor. But he’d also never rocked a sick child back to sleep, forgetting how his back ached and his stomach rumbled with hunger. When your arms are the net that catches a child and holds him through his sickness, sadness, and fear, you can ignore the mess. You don’t count the dust bunnies or worry over t
he spilled juice. Reid’s life was simple but overtly empty, and nothing could make her trade places with him.

  Chapter 23

  The Oldens’ estate on the north side of Boston would have been sold short by the adjective large. Reid had, through his law firm, attended the dinner parties of former politicians, a Miss America finalist, and two moderate celebrities who he’d lied and said he had heard of before. Yet all their homes would have fit comfortably inside the Oldens’ with room to spare. As he parked his car in the circular driveway and took note of the gardens to his left, he realized even with the size of the property and home, there was nothing particularly pompous about the place. The plants weren’t showy and perfect; they looked like they were planted with care and chosen because they were favorites not because they all matched perfectly. The door, though double wide and mostly beautifully etched glass, was adorned with a small plaque that read, All are welcomed, all are loved.

  By the door, shoved hastily to the side, were three pair of rubber boots covered in mud. They ranged in size like a perfect story book, a pair for papa bear, mama bear, and baby bear. He glanced over his shoulder as two men crossed the driveway looking worried.

  “Can I help you,” the taller of the two men asked, his hair all white, blowing in the cold wind. He pulled his coat closed and waited for Reid to reply.

  “I have a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Olden this morning,” Reid explained, eyeing a second man he immediately pegged as either a police officer or some kind of security. He wasn’t in uniform, but there was a readiness to him, his stiff back and skeptical scowl giving him away.

  “Oh, you’re Reid, right?” the older man said, extending his hand. “I’m sorry. This is Tony, a friend of mine from church, and I’m Mr. Olden. You can call me Todd. You’ll have to excuse us, we were out dealing with a broken fence post on the back of the property, and I lost track of time.”