by Addison Fox
Roman saw his mother’s eyes light up as he crossed the lobby toward her. He leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Jess.”
“Oh?”
He saw the confusion stamp itself in his mother’s expression and avoided the full truth in favor of something more polite. “She’s hostessing poker night.”
He laid the flowers gently on the counter before turning toward Susan. “Has it been busy in here? I thought everyone was outside?”
“It’s quiet, but there is the occasional person walking through. We’ve all been taking turns at the counter so we don’t have to miss too many of the festivities outside. Most of the guests are there so it’s not too bad.”
“It’s nice for Sloan and Walker.”
“It is.” His mother glanced up from the printout she was reading. “It could be nice for you and Avery, too.”
“Mom. Come on. You too?”
“You know I’m your biggest champion. Yours and Avery’s.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not all that hard.”
A helpless frustration gripped him all over again. “Why does everyone seem to think we should pick up where we left off?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
Her gaze grew sharp at that and she laid the piece of paper on the counter. “Why not? You’re not entitled to happiness?”
“I didn’t treat her the way she deserved. I can’t just show up and expect to be forgiven.”
“Oh, baby.” She leaned forward, her hand resting on his cheek. “That’s what forgiveness is all about.”
“Well not in this case.” He pulled back. “She’s got a life—and she’s entitled to it. I wasn’t even here for her when her mother died.”
“Roman?”
He glanced around the lobby, confirming it was empty, before saying the words that burned in his chest with the bitterest acid. “I wasn’t, Mom. Forget the rest of the time I wasn’t here and she was dealing with Alicia all by herself, I didn’t come for the end.”
“I told her you expressed your sympathy.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Did you ever think maybe she couldn’t have handled having you here then?”
“What?”
“Roman. There was a reason I kept a lot of it from you.”
He stared at his mother, the stark reality of her words lancing through him. “You what?”
“You didn’t need all the details.”
“She was struggling with this all by herself.”
“No, she wasn’t. She had me and your grandmother. She had Jonas to help out for most of it. What good would it have done to tell you about it?”
Roman shook his head, desperate to reconcile his mother’s words with what he knew to be an incredibly caring woman. “How could you have done that to me? To Avery?”
“It’s fine, Roman. She’s doing well and she’s past the biggest part of the pain. What could you have done?”
“You should have told me everything. Why do you keep doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending like nothing’s wrong.”
The soft lines that bracketed her mouth faded as her lips thinned into a straight line. “I do no such thing.”
“You do. You started it after Dad died but you’ve kept it up. Like you can’t tell me anything bad when I’m so far away. Bad shit happens, Mom.”
“I’m not sure where this is coming from but I’m not interested in a lecture, young man. I made the decisions I felt were right.”
“I’m an adult.”
“An adult with a life and responsibilities four thousand miles away. You don’t need bad news from me.”
The urge to pick a fight—or at least try to talk some sense into her—was huge, but Roman had no idea what to do about it. He knew that stubborn set to her jaw—had worn it more than once himself.
Add on the underlying truth—that he never pressed her or tried to dive beneath the surface of any of her comments—and he knew he had a role in her behavior.
A rather sizable role.
“I need to go get ready.”
“Have fun at poker night. Say hi to everyone for me.”
“I’ll do that.”
It was a long while later before Roman felt his shoulders relax and the subtle headache that hovered behind his eyes fade. What he couldn’t dismiss quite as easily was the raw and bitter knowledge that he’d enabled his mother’s behavior.
Chapter Nine
“Hello, beautiful.”
The cocky smile winked at her from her computer screen and Avery smiled back, feeling the dark mood that had ridden her shoulders all day fading in the reflected light of warm blue eyes. “Hello, Declan. Ever the sweet-talking Irishman, I see.”
“It’s not sweet-talk when it’s true.” A brogue coated his words, and Avery thought—not for the first time—that Declan O’Mara was hell on wheels for the female population.
So why in the hell couldn’t she seem to feel anything more than a mildly passing interest in the man?
First Ronnie and now Declan. Was there any hope for her?
“How was the wedding?”
“Wonderful and beautiful and a tiny bit sad, all at the same time.”
“Major life events have a way of being all those things.”
She mentally added sweetly pragmatic to his impressive list of attributes.
“How’s Lena?”
“Pining for her dear, cold Alaskan wilderness and wondering how long it will take her to save enough money to get back.”
“She and I should set up a swap again. Susan loved her and is ready to canonize her as the patron saint of the hospitality industry.”
“I thought you held that title.”
“Nah.” Avery waved a hand, smiling again in spite of herself. “I’m too bitchy to ever get the word saint before my name.”
“That’s true. Martin Murphy is still complaining that you yelled at him for parking his car in front of our entrance the night of your going-away ceili.”
“I nicely asked him to move it three times before I yelled.”
“A fact I’ve reminded him of on more than one occasion.”
“I’m sorry if he’s still upset.”
“When he does bring it up, I gently suggest he remember how delightful your ass looked when you walked away after yelling at him and he gets a sweet, misty look in the eye.” Declan looked thoughtful before that cocky expression took hold of his features once more. “Maybe that’s why he brings the incident up so often.”
“I knew those choirboy looks of yours were all for show.”
“Of course they are. However, being a choirboy did get me some behind-the-scenes action in the choir loft with my fellow choir girls so it wasn’t a total waste of time.”
He sighed with a great deal of drama and panache before gobsmacking her with his next comment.
“So what has the clouds in those beautiful eyes of yours?”
“There aren’t any clouds, Declan.”
“Then I won’t embarrass you by saying there are circles underneath them, too, indicating lack of sleep or a crying jag or both.”
“You’re evil.”
“No, I’m a friend and you look like you need one.” Any hint of teasing was gone, replaced with the face of someone who genuinely cared.
“My past has caught up with me.”
“Mine does that regularly.” His expression was wry as he added, “Roman? He’s causing you trouble?”
“His being here is trouble.”
“Ah.” The dramatic flair was back as Declan clutched his hands to his breast. “I knew the wanker would have me beat in the ‘I’d like to see Avery naked department.’”
“He hasn’t seen me naked.”
“Yet.”
“Ever again.” The words floated up with ease, but her heart gave a defiant lurch even as her mind sc
reamed, Wanna bet?
“It’s not that easy, love.”
“It should be.”
“And weddings should be nothing but happy, but they aren’t.” He leaned forward and Avery watched as his broad shoulders filled the screen, his blue-eyed gaze zeroing in on her through the webcam. “Joy doesn’t come our way all that often, Avery. Believe me, I know.”
The earnest words—and the slight hitch in his voice—had her heart plummeting. “Declan. I . . . I’m sorry.”
“And you shouldn’t be. I’ve broken my fair share of hearts. It’s about time I got the treatment in reverse. Might make me a more decent fellow, come to think of it.”
She shook her head. She’d suspected his feelings—had even tried returning them—but hadn’t thought they had any real depth or staying power to them.
“Now. What are you going to do about it?”
“About what?”
“Getting naked with Roman.”
“Declan!” Avery wagged a finger at him and realized how odd that must look coming through a webcam. “I’m not getting naked with Roman.”
“Then put that luscious body to use and come back to Ireland and be with me.” His face turned serious, the smile vanishing as if it had never been. “You’re too vibrant for this, Avery Marks. Too wonderful to let life pass you by.”
The same frustration that pounded her that morning with angry boot kicks had dulled to a steady throb in her stomach. “There’s nothing to be done about it. He’s here for longer than usual, but he’s not staying. This isn’t his home any longer, no matter how the entire town feels about him. And even if he were staying, why does everyone think we should fall right back into each other? I don’t.”
“Because you can’t stay apart.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Is that pride talking?” Once again, those blue eyes penetrated the distance with disarming acuity.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“It’s not pride, Dec. It’s self-preservation.”
He sat back in his chair, the intense moment over even though he maintained a thoughtful air, seated there in his small office. She saw the glass of whiskey at his elbow and knew his large Irish wolfhound, Sampson, was likely snoring at his side.
It was just so homey, Avery thought as she waited for him to speak. Her entire experience in Ireland had been like that, from the very first day of her arrival. Warm, welcoming and homey.
“Pride’s one of the seven deadly sins for a reason.”
“Well so is lust. And those are the only two emotions I seem to have around the man.”
“While I may want to beat his face in, I know your feelings for this Roman fellow run deeper than that. I’d wager it’s likely because he deserves it. Maybe you need to stop focusing on what was in the past.”
“What’s past is prologue.”
“Thanks, Shakespeare.”
“We can’t change what comes before.”
Dec sat forward once more, his eyes fierce with emotion. “But we still have the power to change what will be.”
• • •
Roman parked his car in front of Jack and Jess’s house, still smarting from the monumentally shitty day. He was looking forward to poker night and a break from the thoughts that swirled like a tornado around his mind. He grabbed the bouquet he’d purchased earlier for Jess and headed for the door.
At least the conversation with Sophie about the hockey rink had gone well, so he couldn’t chalk the day up as a total wash. She agreed with his assessment of what needed to be repaired and offered up some budget funds to aid in the fixes. She also supported his desire to get the community involved and graciously accepted his offer to pay for some of the building materials.
She also promised to spread the word, which, Roman knew, meant they’d have a slew of residents ready to go by this weekend. All he had to do was put in his order for supplies with Mick and Jack this evening and they’d pick up whatever he needed this week.
Although he couldn’t quite shake the day from his shoulders, Roman did at least feel some sense of purpose as he walked up the front steps, the sun as bright in the sky at eight p.m. as it was at noon. Man, he had missed this.
Even after so many years away, not much fascinated him like the daylight in Alaska. Short and unfathomable in the winter and long and unending in the summer.
Yet another element that made his birthplace unique.
He knocked as he balanced a twelve-pack of beer under one arm and a bag of chips his mother had foisted on him and the flowers in the hand he used to knock.
The host for the evening opened the door with a broad smile, a cigar clamped in his mouth. “Come on in.” Jack grabbed the beer as he closed the door behind them.
Roman heard the distinct notes of trash talk coming from the back of the house and was glad he came. “Where did Jess get off to?”
“She’s upstairs reading a book.”
“Brave woman.”
“And supremely awesome. She made enough food for us to eat for a week.”
They stepped into the dining room and Roman eyed the plates of wrapped pigs-in-a-blanket on both ends of the table, and smiled before he popped one in his mouth. “Let me add my compliments on the awesome food.” Roman held up the bouquet. “And maybe a request to talk to her for a few minutes?”
“I’ll go get her.”
Mick and Hooch, Bear, Mort Driver, Dr. Cloud and an eager-faced Tasty, who, Roman suspected, was Walker’s stand-in tonight, all sat or stood around the table. The poker game had been going on for years, a throwback to the games Mick’s grandfather used to host. The players changed week to week pending personal fortunes but their core group of Mick, Jack, Walker and Doc Cloud was pretty solid.
Jack reappeared, Jess at his side. “Roman?”
Roman excused himself from the crowd and followed Jess into the small living room near the front door. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” Jess accepted the bouquet with a small smile. “Although I think there’s someone else you should be giving these to, don’t you?”
“Since you were the one to put up with my boorish behavior on the town square, I think you’ve a right to them, fair and square.”
“Have you cooled down a bit?”
“Not much.”
“Want to talk about it?”
The opportunity to say what he was thinking—to have someone listen to him who might not be as crazy-blind as his mother—was too good an opportunity to pass up.
“I know I left Indigo. And I know Avery’s entitled to a life. A happy one. I just don’t think it’s with Ronnie.”
Jess looked at him over the top of the yellow blooms, her lawyer’s gaze direct. “And you don’t think you’d say that about anyone who might have an interest in her?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I just know Ronnie isn’t the right guy.”
She let out a small sigh before she nodded. “For what it’s worth, I only tease her about it because he’s handy. I don’t think he’s the right one, either.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t. Although my reasons are probably a hell of a lot different from yours.”
Curiosity won out and the words were out before he could stop them. “What are your reasons?”
“I meant what I said earlier. Avery is a bright, vibrant woman and she deserves someone who loves her and cares about her. And I know she knows that, too. If she wanted Ronnie, she’d have been with him already.”
“Oh.”
A wicked grin lit up her face. “I told you my reasons were going to be different.”
“So you did.”
“So there’s really only one other question.”
When he just stared at her expectantly, he saw the gleam in her eyes, a direct match for the grin. “What are you going to do to win her back?”
Roman was prevented from saying anything by the arrival of Jack in the living room. “Are we playing or what?”
“I’ll see you later.” Jess turned back at the entryway to the room. “But do me a favor. Think about what I said?”
“I will.”
Roman followed Jack back toward the kitchen, grateful when the man handed him a beer and gestured to a seat. “Let’s get this party started.”
The game started with a series of lively insults and Roman pushed the conversation with Jess to the back of his mind. Focusing on the men gathered around the table, he thought how oddly similar the talk was to the locker room before a game. Verbal abuse and puffery had a surprisingly calming effect and he felt himself relax for the first time in days as the seven of them settled into a comfortable rhythm.
About an hour later, Bear threw down his cards in disgust and picked up his beer. “Fold.”
“You out again, big man?” Jack smiled around his cigar as he pulled a pile of chips his way.
“Deal me out of the next one. I’m going to go rustle up some of Jess’s pizza.”
Roman watched Bear walk off, his heavy lumber a suitable representation of his name, when he thought about his conversation earlier with Sophie.
“I’ve got a favor to ask of all of you.”
Five pairs of eyes snapped to interested attention and Bear stepped back in from the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“I’m helping out the kids for a few weeks, running them through some training drills since their coach took off.”
“That coach was an asshole,” Tasty muttered under his breath. His comment was punctuated by a few head nods around the table.
“And the rink’s in pretty bad shape. I’ve got Sophie’s permission to make some repairs and I’d like to get a group of us together to fix it up.”
“Sure thing.” Bear nodded before heading back into the kitchen.
A chorus of “Yep,” “Anything you need” and “Of course” echoed around the table, and Roman fought the irrational irritation that floated up at their quick agreement.
If they were so damned agreeable, why the hell hadn’t anyone fixed it sooner?
On an inward sigh, he held back his frustration. No use in pissing all over the people who’d just agreed to help, but it still bugged him.
It had never set well with him—still didn’t—but he’d gotten used to the fact that people fell over themselves when he asked for things. In the realm of his profession, he understood it, even used it to his advantage. He was a well-respected leader on the team and could motivate, manage and push the team to do better.
