by Jillian Hart
“Stop with the chicks thing. Respect, kid.” He unlocked the door. “What are you listening to these days? Maybe you’d better hand over that music player.”
“It’s just praise music, bro.” He swung a duffel bag over one shoulder and a backpack over the other. “Besides, you couldn’t figure out how to work my tunes.”
“I know, I’m not good at computer stuff.” Not that he couldn’t find his way around one, but he wasn’t a genius at it, the way Marcus was. He marched into the town house, snapping on lights as he went. “Speaking of which, get right to studying. No goofing off. You’ve done enough of it tonight.”
“See? This is why you don’t have a wife. Right there.” Marcus winked at him. “You’re too type A, bro. You’ve got to chill. Go with the flow. Relax a little. I know just how you can do it.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to chill.” Max shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair to dry. He upped the thermostat and the heater clicked on. “The last time I relaxed, I caught a bullet. Not interested in doing that again.”
“It’s your life.” The kid shook his head, seventeen going on forty. “But you need to think about the choices you’re making right now. They can affect you for years to come.”
“Yeah, yeah, smarty. One more time. Hit the books.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Marcus’s grin was quick and good-natured. “I had a blast today in biochem. Learned some real neat stuff. I can’t wait to get a crack at the homework. But while I’m working, I want you to think about what I’ve said.”
Kids. Max shook his head. They think they know everything. He went to the sink and stared down at the pile of dishes, left over from breakfast. He hit the faucet, waiting for the water to warm. Remembering himself about that age—a few years older—and a new recruit, made him cringe. He’d made some choices back then that had changed everything. Made him into the man he was, too hard to believe in anything that wasn’t real; too jaded for a certain kind of woman.
Brianna’s image flashed in his mind as he rinsed off plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. The silken gold of her hair, the soft curve of her face, the gentle sparkle of her being. He grimaced, fighting a spark of tenderness. But it leaped to life within him, a small stubborn flame that would not extinguish.
A chair scraped across the floor, followed by a thud as books hit the kitchen table. Marcus, humming away to his hip-hop praise music bebopped to the fridge, hauled out a soda and a handful of cheese slices and dropped into a chair. His books flipped open, his head bent and he hauled out his pencil case with more noise.
See? This is why you don’t have a wife. Marcus’s words came back to him. You’re too type A, bro. You’ve got to chill. Relax a little.
If only that was the real problem. He dropped a handful of flatware into the basket with a clink and clatter. The real problem happened ten years ago. The day he learned to stop trusting everyone. He’d never gotten over the betrayal, or forgiven his own, blind gullibility. Lying in the dark driveway with a cool rain on his face, knowing he was bleeding fast, unable to move, had changed him. It was the reason he hadn’t been able to trust in a woman since. He was alone because of it now. He’d turned away from Brianna because of it. Why every date a buddy talked him into going on was doomed. He was no longer that young man. Never would be again.
His cell rang, and he shut off the water. Dried his hands on the front of his shirt before yanking the phone from his pocket. One glance at the screen told him it was trouble. “Dobbs. What are you calling me for?”
“Buddy. Wanted to run something by you.” He sounded way too friendly. “Her name is Natalie and she works with my wife. Now, I’ve never met her, but according to Connie, Natalie has a great personality.”
“No way, man. Thanks, but no.”
“Now, don’t be so quick. She’s a CPA, a workaholic kind of lady. You have that in common right there. She might be the one. You don’t know until you—”
“No.”
“—meet her.”
“No.” He upended the bottle of detergent and gave it a good squeeze. “I’m not going to let you talk me into this. I don’t want to have to pretend I’m interested in small talk.” Or in putting my heart on the line, he didn’t say. I’m not looking for happily-ever-after.
So why did Brianna’s beautiful face flash into his mind?
“Hey, just because Alice didn’t work out is no reason why this blind date won’t. Give it a shot, Decker. What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity? My pride?” My heart? All of that was already on the line anyway. All it took was one thought of Brianna on her bike at the intersection, dappled with snow and he was precariously close to toppling right off the line of resistance he’d drawn. “I appreciate it, Dobbs, but this isn’t the right time.”
“All right, but Natalie might not keep. She’s the kind a man marries.”
So was Brianna.
You’ve got to stop thinking about Brianna, man. He rammed the dishwasher door shut and punched the wash button. The contraption erupted to life, humming and splashing. He stowed the detergent bottle under the sink. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the shop, Dobbs.”
He flipped the phone shut to find Marcus staring at him from the other side of the counter. A knowing look was on the kid’s face. How could he hear anything over his music?
Apparently he had. He shoved a blue flyer onto the breakfast bar. “Bro, you need to do this.”
“Do what?” Max watched the kid head back to his books, the piece of paper bright beneath the track lighting. He grabbed for it and took a look.
“Singles Night at Corner Christian Books.” He stared at the heading and frowned. “I’m not going to this.”
“Trust me, dude. You need to go. I can’t be looking out for you forever. I’ve got college to think about. I’ll be gone, and then you’ll be sitting around here by yourself, getting even more bitter.”
“Ha-ha. You’re funny, kid. I’m not going.”
“Too bad, because I am. And you’re my ride.” Pleased with himself, Marcus gave a Cheshire cat grin before turning back to his biochemistry text.
How about that? The kid was conspiring against him. Before he could argue, his phone rang again. It was work this time. Duty was calling. He grabbed his coat and his keys, feeling every piece of darkness within him and all of the shadows.
“I’ll be keeping you in prayer, dear Brianna,” Lil, Colbie’s mom, trilled from the car’s front passenger seat, hands clasped as if already doing so. “I hate that you have to go to trial. It has to break your heart to talk about what happened again. Those lawyer types are putting you through this. It’s not right.”
“I have a meeting with the assistant district attorney again this Friday.” Bree leaned against the backseat, glad for the darkness as Colbie drove through snowy streets toward home. “The trial will be over soon enough and then I never have to remember that night again.”
“God willing, you can move on with your life for good.” Illness had made Lil frail, and her voice warbled delicately. But the disease could not take her loving nature. “You always have me to talk to, sweet girl. I know you can’t turn to your mother.”
“Thanks. You know how much you mean to me.”
“Not nearly as much as you girls mean to me. I haven’t seen Brandi lately. I suppose school and work are keeping her busy.” The darkness could not hide the wistfulness in the older woman’s tone. “I remember being your age. My days filled with friends and work and getting married. What an exciting time that was. I hope you girls are taking time to have a little fun, too. You all work so hard.”
“I had fun tonight.” Brianna feared the conversation was going to turn toward dating and marriage prospects, so she made sure to change the direction of the conversation. “I haven’t had such a fun evening in forever. My sides still hurt.”
“As glad as I was to have you, I can’t imagine watching TV reruns with an old woman could have been fun for yo
u. If it was, then I’m very worried about you, Brianna. You are living too solemn of a life!”
“Colbie, help,” Brianna joked. “Did you hear what your mom just said?”
“I did. I’m in total agreement with her. You are too serious.”
“Me? I laugh all the time. You heard me tonight. No one’s funnier than Laverne and Shirley.”
“You’re in a rut, girl. School and studying, work and church. The only consistent thing you do for fun is read.” Colbie risked a quick glance at her in the rearview mirror. Hard not to see the concern dark in her eyes, although her voice was lightness itself. “You need a change, that’s why I’m taking charge of your social calendar again.”
“Not again.”
“Trust me, it’s for your own good. You’ll thank me for it later. Don’t you think I’m right, Mom?”
“Yes, I certainly do,” Lil agreed with a brilliant smile. “It’s understandable that you turn inward after something so traumatic. I struggled the same way when I first got my diagnosis, but no matter what, you can’t stop living your life. You can’t let anything stand in the way of loving this time on earth God has given you.”
That’s why she was fighting so hard against her fears. Why she was trying to keep her heart open and reach for the good. Hadn’t she decided to turn over a new leaf? Replace the fears and the doubts with realistic but positive thoughts? She wanted stability in her life and happiness.
So why did her thoughts turn to Max? Maybe happy endings weren’t meant for girls like her. Look at Colbie’s mom. She was as nice as could be, but her life hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned. Neither had her own mother’s life. Again, memory swooshed through her, taking her back to the snow falling through the security lights behind the back of the bookstore. Of the man standing over her like righteousness and honor, and how his gaze had lingered on her face like a caring touch. How her pulse had skidded to a halt when he’d moved his gaze lower and focused, as if debating a kiss. He had chosen not to take that step.
Maybe that was her answer. One she had to accept.
It doesn’t have to mean I can’t escape my past and what’s happened to me, right, Lord? I have to believe I can. She bowed her head, but the little girl she’d once been, who played make-believe games of being a princess, of finding a happy ending, kept fighting. Kept believing. Help me, Father. Please show me a better way.
There was no answer as the windshield wipers beat away the dizzying snow, and the heater blasted lukewarm air into the car. She thought of her devotional tucked inside her backpack, and of the day’s verse. The eternal God is your refuge, and his everlasting arms are under you.
“Keep Friday night free,” Colbie instructed as she turned into the snowy driveway and stopped the car. “No arguments.”
“Why not?” It wasn’t as if she was doing anything anyway. “No blind dates.”
“It’s a group thing, so don’t worry.” Mischief sparkled in Colbie’s smile as she said good-night.
Colbie was a woman of her word, so Brianna didn’t expect the worst as she climbed out into the bitter cold. But she didn’t expect the best, either. The night grasped at her like claws as she said her goodbyes, waving as the car backed out into the deep snow, spun a little and then crept away, Lil and Colbie waving in the faint dash lights.
It was as if the dark held all her fears, the ones she had lived through and the ones she had not. Trying to be the girl she’d once been, she trudged to the front steps, trying to keep her fears at bay and tight hold of her faith.
Chapter Seven
Bree was still trembling as she brought her sister’s truck to a stop in the bookstore’s parking lot Friday evening. The assistant district attorney was a kind woman, capable and understanding. But having to think about the past and about the trial to come chipped away at what hard-won steadiness she had. Wednesday night’s snow was nothing more than a few splotches in shady places, replaced by a drizzly rain that made it feel as if winter was thinking twice about making another comeback.
She yanked the keys out of the ignition as her cell buzzed. A text message. Probably one of her sisters checking up on her, bless them. She really could use sisterly support about now when the echoes of that night, the gunshots and the terror, seemed to whisper in the rain.
How R U? U R in my prayers. Luv, B.
Brooke. With all of her problems, she had taken the time to remember about today’s meeting. That meant a lot. She tapped back a message.
I’m OK, thanx. Keeping U in my prayers 2. Luv, Bree.
She hit Send, wondering how her half sister was and if Brooke would ever come back to Montana for good, when a slam shattered the stillness. Her heart dropped six inches. Her palms went clammy. Adrenaline spilled into her blood. She stiffened, staring through the water-streaked windshield, as if danger was close.
You’re fine, Bree. She spotted someone walking away from their vehicle, striding through the rain toward the brightly lit bookstore. See? It was just someone slamming their door. Not a gunshot.
But the stress lingered, and she blinked hard against the flashback chasing her. The sound was a trigger that sent her back to that night. To the hard burn of the tile floor against her knees, the realization that Juanita was not responding to CPR, and the torquing pain as the gunman grabbed her by the arm.
It’s over now, Bree. It’s just a memory. You’re safe now. She gathered her purse, and with her phone clutched in one hand, she clattered out of the car, realizing too late that she’d forgotten to unbuckle. Her fingers fumbled with the seat belt, and she felt like an idiot.
If Colbie looked out the window and saw her right now, she would come running in concern, and there was no way she wanted to worry her sister like that. Bree untangled herself, digging deep for composure. Colbie had enough on her plate. Besides, she was fine. See? She was standing on her own two feet, safe and sound and perfectly okay.
And if the remembered echoes of the gunmen’s violent screaming remained, she didn’t have to listen to it. If the helplessness she’d felt continued to claw at her, she could ignore that, too. Cool water tapped over her, and she let the sound of the rain wash away the noise of the past. She drew her spine straight, chin up, grappling for every bit of inner strength she had. What had her therapist said? The only way out of hardship and pain was to go straight through it.
Well, she was strong enough. She was not helpless anymore.
She hadn’t taken two steps when the back of her neck tingled beneath the warmth of her scarf. This time it wasn’t old fears that made her nervous system jump into high gear and her neurons misfire. Her fingers lost contact with her bag, and it tumbled to her feet with a wet plop. Her knees weakened as she heard the distinct knell of a man’s confident steps coming up behind her. A gait she somehow recognized. Her senses sharpened, as if eager to see the man’s handsome face and hear the cozy warmth of his baritone.
“I noticed you were having a few problems. Are you all right now?” Max Decker knelt to retrieve her handbag. In a black raincoat and a black sweater, jeans and hiking boots, he could have walked right out of her daydreams.
Not that he belonged in her dreams. She did her best not to remember the last night they had been together, and the hope she’d felt. The hope his brother had figured out. The kiss that didn’t happen. Awkward, sure, but did she want him to know that? Never. Nada. No way.
“You probably need this.” He straightened to his full six-feet-plus height and held out her bag.
No grin. Just his hard features and his unblinking gaze. Was he remembering that night in the snow, too?
“Yes. Thanks.” Brilliant, Bree. Way to impress him with your witty banter. Way to show him she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable at all. “I didn’t expect, I mean—What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I was about to ask you.” His startling blue eyes fastened onto hers. “The kid talked me into coming to Singles Night. He was hoping to meet some babes.”
“Babes?” Why
was she laughing?
“He was just trying to get a reaction from me. And I’m pretty sure he’s going to get it.” Max jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, strolling easily through the rain. “I think my brother and your sister have been conspiring.”
“Uh?” Great. Now her brain was malfunctioning, too. “You don’t mean they tried to set us up?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Marcus!” Max turned around, shouting through the rain.
A few rows back, a door shut and a tall kid emerged from the shadows. “You called, Captain?”
“He thinks he’s being funny. That is out of one of those star voyage trek shows he watches. You probably don’t know how it is. I’m sure you and your sisters get along just great.”
“Now why would you assume that?”
“Just look at the lot of you. Wholesome and sweet. I haven’t seen so much niceness outside of a Christmas movie in my entire life.” He smiled, although his features still looked rough and stony, and she didn’t know how to take his words. She didn’t have to think of anything to say, because he kept on talking to his brother. “I’ve figured out what you did. You ought to come apologize to Brianna. It’s an insult to her, trying to fix her up with a guy like me.”
“True,” Marcus agreed with a good-natured chuckle. “I never thought of it that way. Sorry, Bree.”
“I’ll find a way to forgive you.”
“I was told there are a lot of pretty high school girls who come over from the church down the street.” Marcus sauntered by, looking tidy and wrinkle-free with every hair in place. “I’m looking for a girlfriend. Unlike my brother, I’m not a lone wolf.”
“Funny.” He held open the door, first for the kid strolling through with enough confidence for three men, and then for Brianna. Seeing her again felt like he’d taken a sucker punch. He felt disoriented, like coming inside too fast after being out in bright sunlight. Blinded, he waited while Brianna swept away past him, smelling of lilacs and spring rain.
