Still the One

by Michelle Major

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Ethan is best. He’ll do good.”

  Lainey nodded. She thought about the care Ethan had given Pita and the tenderness he’d shown to her. A slow ache built in her heart. “I stopped by the shelter office after I left the clinic.” She needed to regain control.

  “You get the box?”

  Lainey pointed to a large plastic storage tub in the corner of the room. “Rest for a bit, Mom. Then we’ll go through it.”

  Julia patted Vera’s leg. “I need to go.”

  Vera’s left hand clamped around Julia’s wrist. “You stay.”

  Her tone brooked no argument, although Julia gave it her best shot.

  “I need to check in with Val, see if I can pick up some hours if my doctor approves.”

  Vera’s hold didn’t loosen. “Later.”

  “Fine.” Vera let go of Julia’s hand as she stood. “I need to pee first. It feels like this kid has his heel shoved against my bladder.”

  Lainey blew out a short breath as Julia closed the bathroom door. She felt her mother’s eyes on her. “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “You good girl,” Vera said, reaching out to her.

  Lainey pushed up from the bed. “I don’t know what you expect, but me being here isn’t going to make the past go away. I can do my penance this summer, but I can’t change what happened. What I did.” She couldn’t change who she was, how the tragedy had changed her. Forever.

  “Good girl,” Vera repeated.

  Her mother used the same tone Lainey did with Pita. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “We’ll go through the plans while you rest,” she said, but her mother’s eyes had already slipped closed.

  Lainey smoothed the quilt again and turned for the big box in the corner.

  Work on the adoption event kept Lainey occupied the rest of the day. Julia had stayed at the hospital until lunchtime, the two sisters careful not to let the topic stray from animals needing a home.

  The call came in around four o’clock. Her hands shook as she stared at the clinic’s number on her cell phone.

  “Answer it,” her mother said.

  She brought the phone to her ear, expecting Ethan’s voice.

  “Lainey?” Stephanie Rand said. “She’s okay.”

  A strangled sob escaped her lips. “Oh, thank God.”

  Steph continued, “I don’t think you want your undies back, but at least they’re out.”

  “Can I come get her?” Lainey spoke around the lump of tears knotting at the back of her throat.

  “We’d like to keep her overnight, just to make sure she’s back to normal. You can pick her up first thing in the morning.”

  Lainey made a squeaky sound she hoped passed for a ‘yes’ and hung up.

  She looked at her mother. The deep understanding in Vera’s gaze almost sent her over the edge.

  “Underpants,” she mumbled, her voice wobbly. “How dumb.” Stupid to make everything so personal.

  “Go home.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Home,” her mother said again, pointing at the door.

  Lainey knew she should argue, insist on staying, but fatigue settled over her. She leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back in the morning.” She traced the corner of Vera’s lopsided mouth.

  “Bring polish.”

  “What?”

  Vera wiggled her fingers in the air. “Upstairs bathroom, bottom drawer. Pink polish, ‘Touch of Love.’”

  Despite her jumbled emotions, Lainey smiled. “We’ll have a mini spa day.”

  Vera fingered Lainey’s hair. “Julia can cut for you.”

  “I like my hair, Mom.” She covered her mother’s hand with hers and pulled it away, straightening from the bed.

  “Too long. Julia helps.”

  Her back stiffened. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quickly and turned for the door. Vera never approved of her hair, her clothes, her makeup—or lack thereof.

  Why should it be different now?

  Her mother had only one definition of beautiful: blond hair, blue-eyed with a Barbie’s unrealistic measurements. Vera had epitomized the look in her day, and Julia was the spitting image of their mother.

  Lainey was a chip off the Eastern European block of her father’s family with her unruly hair and olive skin. At least she’d gotten her mother’s button nose, although it looked out of place set between her almond-shaped eyes and too-wide mouth.

  She eyed the hospital exit sign like it was the finish line of the Boston Marathon. When the automatic doors slid open, a wave of aggressively humid air hit her square in the face and she slowed. Everything moved at a snail’s pace during a Brevia summer.

  “No,” she told herself as she unlocked the Land Cruiser and slid behind the steering wheel. She took a few deep breaths and pulled out of the parking lot, determined to hold herself in check.

  The heat did not own her.

  This town would not bully her.

  Her mother could not control her any more.

  She forced herself on a four-mile run when she got back to the house. Better to sweat out her emotions than indulge in another pint of Chubby Hubby.

  After a long, cool shower, she slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a black tank top. She’d spent the previous night awake with Pita, so she now began unpacking her clothes into the same dresser that had once held sets of Garanimals outfits. The shadow of the bed’s ruffled canopy fell over her like a weight.

  The walls seemed to hum with long-ago conversations and emotions. She couldn’t watch television without imagining her father asleep in his faded leather recliner and didn’t want to soak in the tub that held the smell of her mother’s perfume.

  She finally got in her car and drove until she saw the lights of Piggly Wiggly. She didn’t need groceries but flipped through magazines, studying the layouts and lighting of the photos, until she felt sleepy.

  She bought Cosmopolitan, In Style and a box of dog biscuits. As she put the bag into the cargo area, something cold and wet nudged her thigh. She spun around.

  “Pita.” Lainey’s heart thudded against her rib cage. She dropped to her knees. “Oh, sweetie. How are you? How did you get here?”

  Glancing up, she had a brief glimpse of a dark head before Pita’s front paws slammed into her chest. She went over backward in a tangle of arms, legs and dog limbs.

  “Easy, girl.” Ethan’s deep voice cut through the quiet. He grabbed Pita’s collar and hauled the dog off her.

  Lainey lay flat on her back, legs splayed across the asphalt. Ethan loomed over her, fingers curled around the dog’s collar. Under the bright parking lot light, one corner of his mouth kicked up and his eyes danced, sending sparks flying in their deep centers.

  “I guess she’s better,” Lainey managed to say, wheezing a little as she tried to gather her wits. At least she had the good sense to close her legs.

  “Yep,” was his only answer.

  “How did you find me?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d want to wait until morning, so I was driving out to Vera’s when I saw your car. Not a lot of fancy SUVs in Brevia.”

  She lifted a hand into the air. “You want to help me up?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I kind of like you down there. I imagine you groveling for forgiveness at my feet.”

  “Fine,” she mumbled and looked away. She started to drop her arm, but he released his hold on the dog and grabbed her wrist. He hauled her to her feet so fast she stumbled forward into him. It was like falling against the side of a mountain.

  She pushed out her breath, not wanting to inhale his scent, and tried to step away. He held her close.

&nbs
p; “I fixed your dog,” he said, his voice rough against her ear. “I guess you owe me an apology and a thank you. How do you want to settle your debt?”

  A hundred wicked images flashed across her mind in the space of a second. A shiver of anticipation traveled the length of her body, starting at the top of her head and leaving a trail of goose bumps from the base of her neck to the tips of her toes. She shoved away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  His eyes gleamed black as night as he stared at her shirt.

  She dug in her heels and blurted, “I already apologized. I left you the letter. Right after...” Her voice faded as a murderous expression crossed his face. “I thought you would...”

  “I burned it.”

  The words slammed into her with the force of a hurricane. “Did you even read it?”

  He looked away for a few beats then jerked his head. “Before I burned it.”

  Her eyes widened. She’d poured her soul onto those pages, hoping he’d come after her. She’d spent days in that hotel room in Charlotte waiting for him, wanting to start over and make a life together. Hope had faded into uncertainty and finally a despair that had left her curled on the floor of the hotel bathroom, the blood vessels in her eyes broken from crying so hard.

  “Do you know what it took for me to tell you those things? You never...”

  “Do you know what it took,” he shot back, “for me to stand at the front of that church waiting for you? Half the town watched me get dumped on my wedding day.”

  Her anger melted away as fresh waves of guilt washed over her, filling her lungs until her entire body ached with it. “I didn’t dump you,” she whispered.

  “Pardon me if I don’t get the terminology right. What would you call it? Jilted? Screwed over? Left behind?”

  Is that what he thought? That by leaving she’d abandoned him? Maybe he couldn’t understand how it had hurt her to watch the pity in his eyes as he’d said he’d still marry her. She’d been so grief-stricken and ashamed, she couldn’t face him and the letter had seemed her only option.

  If he’d burned the letter after what she’d written, she knew without a doubt she’d done the right thing. All these years later there was no comfort in that fact.

  “Things happen for a reason,” she said, not believing it. Acid rose in her gut as she forced a smile. “The way I see it now, you should have been relieved. Didn’t I let you off the biggest hook in history?”

  Chapter Five

  She had him there, Ethan thought.

  Those were the exact words his buddies used when they’d taken him out to the local bar to get hammered after finding the ring and the note on the bathroom sink in the basement of the church that day.

  Ethan, drunk off his gourd and egged on by a friend, had burned it in a bonfire out at Stroud’s Run Lake. He’d cursed himself and his wicked hangover the next morning when he’d wanted to read her words again. He wasn’t about to admit that now.

  “You’re right,” he told her. “I just wish you’d figured it out before I put on the monkey suit.”

  “I wish a lot of things, Ethan.”

  The mix of sympathy and sadness in her eyes grabbed at his gut. He didn’t want her sympathy. “You did us both a favor, I guess. I was a lousy boyfriend and would’ve made a worse husband.”

  “Did you ever come close again?” she asked, then covered her mouth as if she couldn’t believe she’d spoken the words. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  He managed a smile. “I escaped the hangman’s noose once,” he said, drawing out his vowels to sound like a typical good ole boy. “It won’t catch me again.”

  “Oh.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes. He told himself it was better than sympathy. “How about you? Anything serious?”

  She blinked several times then shook her head. “I’m away so much for work. It doesn’t leave time for a social life.”

  “You like all the travel?”

  The dog jumped into the back of the SUV, and she patted its head, not making eye contact with him. “It’s part of the job. Why?”

  “I’d always pegged you for the homemaker type. You know, a couple of kids, carpool, cookies baking in the oven—the whole bit.”

  “Shows how well you knew me.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  His gaze fell to where her hand rested on Pita, her fingers trembling. Something inside him stilled. Despite his anger, he wanted to reach out, wipe away the sorrow neither of them could leave behind.

  Their eyes met and she snatched her hand away. “I should go.”

  “How’s your mama?” he asked, suddenly not wanting to leave her.

  She sighed. “We met with the doctor earlier. She’s improving, but it’s slow. Her speech is better. Hopefully, she’ll come home in the next couple of weeks—once her right side improves. She has a lot of therapy in front of her.”

  “How’s she dealing with everything?”

  “She’s demanding, prickly, hot-tempered and charming the daylights out of everyone at the hospital.”

  “Typical Vera.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s not the same at the shelter without her.”

  One side of Lainey’s mouth curved. “Nothing ever is.”

  Darkness descended over the parking lot. A quarter moon shone overhead and a streetlight glowed a lane over. Shadows covered Lainey’s face so he couldn’t read her expression.

  “Call me if anything changes with Pita.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  He stepped back as she reached up and pulled the hatch down.

  “Sure,” he said at the same time the door’s edge smashed into her head.

  Muttering a curse, Lainey pressed her hands to her head. Pita immediately stood, barked once and pushed against Lainey’s shoulder, her tail wagging hard.

  She sucked in shallow breaths. Ethan pulled her near as he sat on the raised bumper. “Let me take a look.” He pried her fingers away. “How bad is it?”

  “Not awful, but I might throw up.” She laughed but he heard tears in her voice. “You may not want to be so close.”

  He didn’t get up and she didn’t move. “Pita, down.”

  “How did you do that?” she asked as Pita plopped on her belly.

  He clicked on the dim light above the cargo space and tilted her head toward it. “Your mom taught me.”

  “Figures.”

  “There’s a little blood. Do you have a towel?”

  She raised her hands into the light. The tips of her fingers showed traces of red. “Maybe some napkins up front.”

  “Do not try to stand.”

  “It’s really not serious,” she said softly. “Feels like slamming a door shut on your fingers.” But she stayed put on the bumper.

  His gaze flicked to the dog. “You. Stay.”

  He rummaged through the front seat and found a stack of Dunkin’ Donuts napkins and a package of wet wipes under a large camera bag.

  When he came back around the SUV, Lainey had covered her eyes with the heels of her hands. He tugged on her outstretched fingers until she raised her head.

  “This may sting.”

  “I saw stars for a minute. I doubt—ouch! Hey...”

  He dabbed a wet wipe at the scrape. “I told you.” He spread her hair so he could have a closer look. He almost didn’t notice how silky the strands were as they slipped through his fingers, how the smell of flowers and honey drifted up as he smoothed down her curls. He bent to examine the cut and held his breath.

  “It’s not bad,” he said. “It doesn’t need stitches...”

  “You do humans now, too?”

  “But,” he continued
as if she hadn’t spoken, “you’re going to have a goose egg.”

  Pink colored her cheeks. “Sorry to snap at you. I feel stupid.”

  He picked up one of her hands and took out another wipe. Gently he cleaned off the tip of each finger. “It’s a good idea to move away before closing an overhead door.”

  She pulled a face. “I got that. Thanks.”

  He lifted her other hand and rubbed her fingertips. He marveled at the softness of her skin against his calloused palm, how pale her hands were for someone who lived in the southwest. Her fingernails were just this side of long, rounded at the tips but not painted. She’d kept them short when he knew her and usually stained with ink.

  “Why are you being nice to me?”

  “What?” He looked down to where her fingers were still laced in his.

  A self-deprecating smile softened her mouth. “I know you don’t want me here. In Brevia. Most of the town hates me for walking away from you, and the rest think I’m an idiot. No one wants me back.”

  “Your mother...”

  “Needs someone to run the show for her event. I’m cheap labor, and I owe her for not being here the last time she needed me.”

  He squeezed her hands. “She doesn’t blame you for your dad’s death. You can’t either.”

  “I can blame myself for a whole host of things that may or may not be my fault.” Her brows drew down over her eyes. “Don’t change the subject. I want to know why you keep rescuing me.”

  “Maybe I’m just a nice guy.”

  She stared at him.

  “Or not.” It burned his stomach to be so close to her. But here he was like a fly unable to resist the lure of the glowing blue light even when it expected the zap.

  He didn’t know how to answer her when he couldn’t understand it himself. He needed to get away, head down to Charlotte and find a willing woman to scratch the itch that had started under his skin the moment he’d seen her in Carl’s Diner. That would be the smart thing to do, the easy way out of a situation that could only end badly for both of them.

  He tightened his grip on her fingers and drew her closer. He brought his face so close to hers that he could feel her warm breath against his skin. Still he didn’t take her.