Veronica giggled and reached for the pizza. “I’ll throw a smoke bomb and make my escape. Go on. They’re not that bad.”
“I know,” Fitz said, but she still glanced toward the bulging necks and wide shoulders that crowded the front room. “They’re great.”
“Okay, so they’re not your type.”
“Oh, I don’t know. A few of them are pretty to look at.”
“True.” They were all fine specimens of fitness, but it was beginning to smell as if some of them had come straight from the gym, no doubt because they had.
Her sister kissed her cheek and stood. “Just get through the next few hours. Things will quiet down by tomorrow. Life will be boring again before you know it. You’ll see.”
“God, I hope so. Could you tell Mom I’ll drop by at my normal time tomorrow?”
“No problem. Love you, sis.”
She was sound asleep when her bedroom door opened with a slash of light, then closed quietly again. For a split second she couldn’t quite remember what was off, but something was wrong, and she sat up with a gasp of terror. Who was in her room? Why did she feel like she was in danger?
“Hey, it’s just me,” Johnny whispered.
“Jesus, you scared me.” She’d been too tense when she’d gone to bed, and the stress had brought on strange dreams. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Just past midnight.” He smelled like beer and whiskey as the air shifted around him.
“Did you check on Sydney?”
“Yeah. She’s asleep.” She heard his clothing sliding over his skin and then he dropped onto the mattress like a boulder. “Man, what a frickin’ day, huh?”
“Crazy. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m great. Just tired.” He settled under the covers with a sigh that was more like a groan.
“I bet you are.” She waited a few moments before pressing. “Were you . . . God, Johnny, we haven’t even had a chance to talk! Were you scared? You must have been.”
“When I found Tanner?” He sounded wary, as if he had to approach the idea of being afraid of something carefully.
“Yes. I think I’d have been at least a little freaked out, if not outright terrified.”
“At first I was just worried Old Man was chasing after a skunk or, worse, a mountain lion. I was screaming for him to come back. But once I got into that gulley, I saw him whining and sniffing at something. When I realized it was a kid . . . Jesus, I was in shock.”
“God. I can’t imagine.”
“At first I thought I was seeing things. Then I was trying to be quiet and soothing for him even though I was losing it inside, you know?”
“Did you know it was Tanner?”
“He was scared and wouldn’t look up at me, but after the first few seconds I saw the clothes he was wearing and I knew it was him. The news kept repeating that he was wearing a gray hoodie, remember? So I scooped him right up. He started crying. He was scared, I think. But once we got on the trail and I was making steady progress, he fell asleep almost immediately. Little guy was exhausted.”
“Wow. How the hell did he survive out there?”
“Jeez, I have no idea.” He paused and she heard the sheets rustle beneath his shoulders as he shrugged. “Just pure luck, I guess.”
“I guess.”
“Weirder things have happened.”
She nodded into the darkness, picturing the little boy all alone amid the tall trees. “How far is that trailhead from the Holcomb estate?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It must be at least fifteen miles. How in the world did he make it? And what were the chances of you hiking out in Kittredge? We haven’t been there in years.”
“Ha!” His loud burst of laughter made her cringe in the quiet darkness. “Who knows. I just wanted to get someplace peaceful.”
“Well, thank God.”
Johnny shrugged; then he laughed again. “Funny, I would have thought he’d be happy to see me, but I guess kids learn about ‘stranger danger.’ Or maybe he was just in shock? He held on to Old Man, though. I asked him if he was Tanner, and he didn’t answer. He just buried his face in Old Man’s fur. But I knew.”
“How far out were you?”
“Less than an hour. He slept almost the whole hike back.”
“I thought he was dead. When I saw the video, he was so limp. I thought he was dead.”
“He was fine,” Johnny said soothingly. He reached out as if to comfort her, but when he pulled her close, his hand slid down her back to her ass. He nuzzled her neck. Then he kept nuzzling until he pressed himself against her, his erection poking her hip.
She didn’t want to. She never wanted to anymore, unlike the first years of their marriage when she’d craved the reassurance of his hands on her. Tonight she was exhausted and he reeked of liquor. But this was his big day, and he wanted to celebrate, so Veronica just sighed. He groaned against her skin, mistaking her sigh for arousal.
“God, that was crazy,” he murmured as he pushed her pajama pants off. “So fucking crazy. Can you believe the news was here?”
“It was definitely crazy.” She just wanted to go back to sleep, so she took him in hand and spread her knees.
“God, yes,” he groaned as she shifted onto her back and he settled between her legs. “That’s it, baby.”
She felt the familiar slide of his body, smelled the familiar scent of his skin. But tonight wasn’t just a standard marital evening. Tonight he was pumped up, and he quickly settled into an eager rhythm inside her, murmuring “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” getting himself even more excited.
“I did it, babe,” he muttered. “I did it. Fuck, I did it.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“I fucking did it.”
She rolled her eyes, confident he couldn’t see her. But her sarcastic expression twisted when she heard a burst of male laughter from the living room. “Johnny! What the hell!” She shoved her hands against his shoulders, pausing his motion but not shifting his body at all. “Who’s in the house?”
“Trey and a couple of guys were too drunk to drive home.”
“So call them a ride!”
“Nah, I told them they could crash in the living room.” He started moving inside her again, and Veronica slapped his shoulder.
“What are you doing? Not with them here. He’s not even supposed to be in my home!”
“Shhh.” He thrust once. “It’s fine.”
“They’ll hear us!” And she’d never hear the end of their ridiculous junior-high-level humor. They’d probably make squeaking noises like bedsprings whenever she walked in the room.
“Come on. I’m almost done. They won’t hear anything.” He started again. Veronica lay tense beneath him, unwilling to push the argument so far that one of his friends might hear. Johnny didn’t seem to notice. He was back in his own head, celebrating his heroism with her body, stroking himself with her flesh.
She could practically hear him replaying his heroics in his mind. She’d been his biggest fan when they’d first married, but, since the affair, her appreciation for him had receded, exposing the evidence of his narcissism it had helped to shield.
He started murmuring “Yeah, yeah, yeah” again. Veronica winced at the slight creak of the old box spring beneath them, but, true to his word, he soon grunted and finished, shuddering above her.
He collapsed heavily onto her body. She stared into the black hole of the ceiling and wished to God she were somewhere else. Johnny seemed perfectly content where he was, though. Her hands hovered over his shoulders. She told herself to lay them down. To touch his skin. Offer love and intimacy. Hold him. But her hands clenched into fists instead. She closed her eyes and waited until his breathing grew deep and regular before she pushed him off her. Out of her.
Shifting her feet, she finally found her pajama pants and slid them from under the covers to carry to the tiny bath attached to their room. She cleaned up, got dressed, and washed her hands, then stared at herself i
n the mirror until she couldn’t take it anymore and shut off the light. On her way back to bed, she cracked their door open to keep an eye on Sydney’s room.
An hour later she finally fell asleep again. When she woke at eight the next morning, Johnny was gone and the house was blissfully quiet around her.
It was over. Life could get back to normal.
CHAPTER 5
“All right, Mr. Padilla. Two more repetitions and you’ll be done.”
“If you’re going to make me step in and out of my own shower like an idiot, the least you can do is scrub my back while you’re here.”
“And what would Mrs. Padilla have to say about that?”
Mrs. Padilla snorted from the hallway. “I’d say take this old man off my hands with my blessing. You can have him. He eats too much and he snores like a machine.”
Veronica winked at her patient. “You’re getting stronger and steadier. One more visit and I don’t think I can come up with more excuses for rehab.”
“Really? It’s only been four weeks since the surgery.”
“I know, but look at you. You don’t even need help getting your foot over the edge of the tub anymore.”
“I can fake it if you want.”
She laughed. “No, what I want is you one hundred percent independent again, and you’re almost there.”
“Spoilsport.”
Mrs. Padilla snorted. “Leave the girl alone. She has a big strapping man waiting for her at home; she doesn’t need to put up with your bull, Juan.” She grinned when Veronica glanced toward her. “We saw your husband on the news last night. And your sweet little girl. What a beautiful family you make. You must be so proud.”
“I am,” she confirmed, wondering how many times she’d hear that today. Mr. Padilla was only her second client. Then she’d stop by her mom’s house for lunch before heading into the rehab center for the rest of the day.
“Thank God he was there,” Mrs. Padilla continued. “They say that boy was just a little cold and dehydrated.”
Veronica tucked a hand under Mr. Padilla’s elbow as he stepped over the edge of the tub one last time. “I keep thinking about every tiny little thing that could have changed yesterday. Just the chances that he would have been on that trail . . . We haven’t been there in years. Or if Johnny had taken a different branch from the trailhead or left the house an hour earlier. If he’d decided to leave the dog home. If there’d been a deer carcass nearby to distract Old Man. It’s amazing he found him.”
“All those prayers must have worked,” her patient said as he straightened his sweater and wiped a hand over his brow. The men she helped with rehabilitation always thought the exercises were stupid. Of course they could maneuver around their own bathrooms. Of course they could move from a chair to their beds. Even when such a simple act made their brows sweat and their muscles tremble, they pretended not to understand their own frailty.
“You look so steady today,” she said.
“Is there a gold medal for climbing over the edge of the tub?”
“No, but I did bring some gummy worms.” She raised her eyebrows, well aware of his weakness for candy.
He snorted. “I’m not a little kid learning to use the potty.”
His wife snorted in return. “Don’t listen to him. He’s easier to bribe with sweets than any of our kids ever were.”
Veronica guided him over to the counter so he could put a hand down for support if needed. “Have you spoken to your son about installing a railing in here?”
“I don’t need a railing,” Mr. Padilla scoffed.
His wife ignored him. “He came by this weekend and finally measured. He just needs to get to the home improvement place.”
“Great. I’d feel better if there was a handhold for a little extra help.”
She left a few more instructions and a bag of gummy worms before saying goodbye and hugging both of them. The entire point of her job was to get people functional enough not to need her help. But it was a strange goal, at least with the patients she liked. Trust me and I’ll help you improve and then you’ll never see me again.
Still, it was better than the alternative. When she had to return to patients who’d worsened, it broke her heart. And it wasn’t uncommon to lose a patient altogether. But patients like Mr. Padilla made up for that. He’d recover from his knee surgery and be back to normal in a few months. Better than normal, actually. That was the point of the procedure.
Her favorite days were Fridays and the Saturday afternoons she worked at senior centers. She didn’t get more time with her patients there, but she did get the chance to see former patients who’d improved. And she almost always got invited to a dozen holiday celebrations. Those kinds of parties were more her speed than keggers and loud music. She’d done her fair share of partying in college, her introversion drowned by alcohol, but then she’d grown up. Or maybe she’d just grown tired.
Veronica huffed out a humorless laugh at her socializing preferences. As negative as she could be about Johnny’s friends, at least he was normal. He liked hanging out with peers. She preferred patients in their eighties. Or maybe, a little voice whispered inside her, you just want different peers.
She shook off the useless thought with a sigh. It didn’t matter what she wanted.
Her parents’ place—her mom’s place—was only a ten-minute drive from the Padillas’, so she’d started dropping by for lunch when she’d taken Juan on as a client five weeks earlier.
A deep wave of nostalgia swamped her as she drove the familiar streets. This neighborhood had been her world for eighteen years. Now it was just a source of more adult anxiety.
Funny how the lens of childhood always cast adults with so much freedom and strength. She’d been far freer as a child. Happier too. And she’d damn sure been more determined. Now it felt as if all her strength went into making it through the day. Just one more day. They added up eventually, or so she kept telling herself.
Seven days meant she’d made it through a week. Fifty-two weeks made a year. Sydney was ten now, so in eight more years or . . . maybe sooner. Maybe Syd just needed two or three years to mature past her fears.
Speaking of her daughter’s fears . . . Veronica pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, the split-level so familiar that she could’ve navigated up the front stairs in the pitch-black night. And had done on several occasions in high school.
Her mom was opening the front door before Veronica was even out of the car. “Hey, sweetie! You won’t believe how many people have called me today. And Facebook! Oh my Lord, I can’t keep up on a regular day. Now it’s a hopeless mess! Everyone keeps sending me the same three articles.”
“I bet.” She stepped into her mom’s open arms and hugged her.
“My word, this has all been exciting.”
“It sure has. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to turn on my phone again.”
“Just ignore it. All that matters is that little boy is fine. Because of Johnny! How is he doing?”
“Johnny’s great. He was at the gym bright and early to meet a new client. He texted to say he wouldn’t be home until eight tonight. He’s too booked up. So that’s good news. But would you be able to get Sydney? I’ve got a full day too.”
“You know I’m always happy to.”
“Thanks, Mom. This is his slow period, so all this exposure is really going to help make ends meet.” She followed her mom into the kitchen, though it wasn’t as familiar to her as the rest of the house now. Renovating the eighties kitchen had been her mom’s first big act of freedom or rebellion or whatever it had been.
Well, not the first big act. That had been kicking Dad out of the house. The kitchen had been number two. And then a three-week cruise through the Panama Canal. Two years after the divorce things had settled down, and her mom looked peaceful. In fact, she looked deeply content and happy. Veronica was painfully jealous.
“Your father called. Did you ever get in touch with him?”
Veronica kept her voice light. “No. It’s been crazy. I’ll call tonight.”
“He just wants to hear from you.”
“Sure. I’ll call him.”
“Veronica.”
She rolled her eyes at her mom’s skeptical tone. “I will!”
“He’s still your father.”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m not twelve. I get that.” It wasn’t that she never spoke to him. They talked every few weeks. The divorce hadn’t been a revelation. Nothing as dramatic as that. It had been more of a bright halogen light shining unforgivingly on their past. And the past was supposed to stay warm and fuzzy and slightly out of focus. “He has another daughter to keep him in the loop.”
“But you two used to be so close.”
“Let’s just have lunch. What culinary fabulousness have you made today?”
That got her mom off the topic of her ex-husband. She grinned and gestured Veronica toward the small table in the kitchen nook. “I made pad thai! Rice noodles with peanuts and chicken and all kinds of good stuff. Have you ever had it? I think it turned out great.”
Janet Wroth had spent her whole life cooking pot roasts and meat loaf, but now that she lived alone, she’d become adventurous. She’d signed up for two separate meal services and texted Veronica the dinners she made for herself every night—the pictures and the descriptions and her final review of the recipe. Now she was a fan of foods from all over the world.
But one thing hadn’t changed: the leftovers she froze were all neatly labeled and lined up in the deep freeze like little Tupperware soldiers.
On Wednesday afternoons, instead of waiting for dinner, she cooked up one of her meal kits to share with Veronica for lunch.
Veronica didn’t mention that her visits to Juan Padilla were nearly over. She’d see if she could sign up a new client nearby so she and her mom could continue their weekly tradition. She and her mother hadn’t been particularly close through Veronica’s teen years, so this was a nice way to build bonds. She felt so lonely for female companionship these days.
Her mom patted her hand. “Sydney looked so pretty on TV. So did you, honey,” she added hastily.
False Step Page 4
