Drawing on every ounce of reserve strength, Jenny answered.
“You sound odd.” Worry tinged her friend’s words. “Is everything all right?”
Jenny injected a bright note into her voice. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. What’s up?”
“I have good news. How would you like to be a godmother?”
“A what?” The lipstick dropped out of her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Maggie giggled. “A godmother.”
Her brain took several seconds to make the connection. “You...you’re pregnant?”
Pain seared through her.
“I’m due in November.” Maggie bubbled with excitement. “I can’t believe it. Jake and I have been trying for so long, I’d almost given up.”
As Maggie chatted away about ultrasounds and due dates, Jenny tried to pull herself together. To stop the wrenching in her stomach.
She was happy for Maggie. And she’d tell her...in a minute...when she had the strength. “Congratulations. Jake must be thrilled.”
“He says it’s like winning the Cup all over again.”
“With him scoring the winning goal.” Jenny’s laugh was watery, but genuine.
Each moment the call continued was agony, yet she couldn’t spoil her friend’s happiness by cutting her short. Jenny had no idea what she said, but somehow she managed to keep up her end of the conversation.
Just as she thought she couldn’t take a moment more, Maggie released her.
Jenny had barely hung up when her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.
Grief washed over her in waves. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to mute the sobs that escaped. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth.
But she couldn’t hold back anymore. Mewling cries, wrenched from deep within, echoed around the empty room.
Darkness had fallen by the time the storm inside Jenny began to calm. Her throat was hoarse, her lips parched, her eyes scratchy. Her muscles ached.
But her heart was numb, at last.
I have to get out of here.
Where could she go? She looked a mess. Hell, she was a mess. She needed a place where she could sit alone. She couldn’t face bumping into someone she knew.
Memories of an old stomping ground surfaced.
Jenny hadn’t been to the Exeter Diner in a long time. A hole-in-the-wall, with dim lighting, where the regulars kept to themselves. She’d escaped there as a teenager when she couldn’t handle being in Douglas’s house. Then later she’d hung out there with Tru.
How many times had she driven past over the years? She’d never stopped because the place held too many memories. Of Tru’s friendship turning to something more special. More precious. Of their first tentative kisses in those shadowed booths. Of whispered secrets and stolen moments.
Of that final night when he’d promised to keep her safe, then destroyed her safety. The night he’d wrecked their friendship and killed their blossoming love.
Yet, as much as she shied away from the memories the Exeter Diner evoked, she was drawn to its siren call. To its familiarity and to the peace she could find by sheltering in the cocoon of those high-sided bench seats.
What did she have to lose? Tru wouldn’t be there. Nor anyone else she knew.
Jenny got to her feet and hurried back into the bathroom. She washed her face again, then grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.
* * *
A COLD BEER, a rare burger with all the trimmings and not a hockey fan in sight.
Exactly what Tru needed. The tension that had tightened his shoulders since that damn encounter with Don and Dirk in the sporting goods store finally began to ease. He leaned back against the padded leather seat in the dark booth and took a long drink from the bottle the gum-snapping waitress had just served him.
He’d nearly forgotten about this diner, back in the old neighborhood; he hadn’t been here in years. When he’d stormed out of the Plaza, he hadn’t wanted to go home, but also hadn’t wanted to risk going anywhere fans would recognize him—that had ruled out most of the sports bars in the area. He’d considered going round to Jake’s, but his friend had taken Maggie out for dinner. And going to his mom’s had been out of the question—Tru wasn’t ready to face Ike or his mom, not with that letter burning a hole in his conscience.
Then he’d remembered this place. Quiet, great food and nobody would bother him.
“Jack. Rocks. Easy on the rocks.” The familiar husky voice almost made him choke.
Desire slid through his veins like flames licking at dry wood. Anger, frustration and guilt soon mingled with the desire, as they had since he was sixteen.
What the hell was Jenny doing here?
Just like old times, his mind whispered. Except Jenny wouldn’t be rushing toward him, her blue eyes bright with anticipation. She wouldn’t be sliding into the booth, into his arms, her lips raised for his kiss. There would be no entwined fingers as they shared a milk shake.
The diner had been “their place.” They’d found it one evening, after hockey practice, and had begun to hang out there regularly. When their friendship had turned to something more, it had become their private haven. He’d only realized how much of a sanctuary this had been for Jenny when he’d discovered the truth about her uncle.
The click-click of high heels on the wooden floor came closer. Tru shifted into the shadows of the high-sided booth as Jenny took a seat across the room.
“Why don’t I get you some food to go with that drink?” The waitress’s gentle question belied her hard, brassy look.
He couldn’t make out Jenny’s response.
When the older woman moved away, he got his first good look at Jenny’s face.
The change since he last saw her shocked him. Her pale skin was almost translucent. There were dark smudges under her eyes. What could be wrong?
It couldn’t be her boss; the nurse had told Tru there was no change when he’d last called.
For some reason, his mom’s comment about pregnancy vitamins, the day of Harry’s stroke, popped into Tru’s head. At the time, it had raised painful questions he hadn’t wanted to know the answer to, so he’d deliberately scrubbed it from his mind.
Could Jenny be pregnant? A knife twisted in his gut.
He watched her drain the bourbon and knew the answer was no. Jenny wouldn’t drink if she was carrying a baby.
“Here you go.” The waitress placed a plate topped with a burger, fries and onion rings in front of Jenny. “Eat up.”
“Thanks.” Jenny’s smile was wooden.
As soon as she was alone, the smile faded and her shoulders slumped.
Tru was partway out of his seat before he stopped himself. What are you thinking? Slowly, he sat down again.
Think you can help? His inner voice laughed, a mocking, pitying sound. Haven’t you helped her enough?
All he’d wanted was to save the girl he loved. Instead, he’d screwed up badly and made things worse. Dangerously worse.
No matter how many times he replayed the events, he couldn’t find any way he’d have figured out that the man Jenny had refused to name had been the pastor everyone had adored and trusted.
Eat and get out of here. Tru turned back to his burger, but his gaze kept straying across the room. Half of him wanted her to look up and spot him. The other half was scared she would.
He’d barely taken a bite of his burger when he caught a movement at the edge of his vision. Jenny’s fork clattered to the table. She pushed her plate away and cradled her head in her hands.
Before Tru could question his actions, he was standing by her side—with no idea what to say.
“You’re a long way from home.” Were those gruffly spoken words the best he could do?
Jenny’s b
ack stiffened, but she didn’t look up.
Where was her usual snappy comeback? Her lack of reaction worried him. Whatever was wrong, was bad. He had to do something to spark a response. “Didn’t think this was your neighborhood anymore.”
She lifted her head, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”
“Look around. No hockey players.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. At least, no good hockey players.”
Ouch. Still, fire had finally flashed in her blue eyes.
He slid into the booth, opposite her.
“Go away, Truman. I’m eating.”
“Uh-huh. And what was that you were doing when I came over? Praying?” He winced inwardly. He’d wanted a reaction, not to hurt her.
“You, of all people, should know I don’t believe in God.”
“My point exactly.” He helped himself to a French fry.
“Hey, get your own fries.”
“You used to be better at sharing.” He plucked an onion ring from her plate and offered it to her. When she continued to glare, he shrugged and ate it himself.
Jenny stood, marched over to the waitress station and grabbed a bottle of ketchup. When she returned, she deliberately poured sauce over the fries and rings.
His heart kicked. She’d remembered he didn’t like ketchup. “Now, that’s just mean.”
He went to collect his own dinner and returned.
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Do you always force your company upon women?”
“I never have to force anything. They flock to me.”
“Like lemmings to a cliff?”
He grinned. “Not bad.”
“I’m just warming up.” She ate some of her burger and sighed. “I’d forgotten how delicious the food was here.”
“Not been back for a while?”
She shook her head. “Not for a few years.”
What had brought her back tonight? “I’m surprised you’re not at the game in Pittsburgh.”
“I’ve retired.”
“What? When?”
“When the season ended. I’ve handed over the puck bunny crown to Candi-with-an-i.”
“You’ve done all the players in the league?” The question, tinged with disbelief, slipped out before he could stop it. Crap. So what if she’d never slept with him. He didn’t compete with other players for women, or take up with their leftovers.
The fire in her blue eyes was replaced with ice. “I may have missed a few, but then I don’t sleep with married men or guys in steady relationships. Or jerks.”
Time to change the subject. “Why are you here tonight?” he asked gently.
Jenny blanched. Her vulnerable look had him worried enough to press. “What are you hiding from?”
Silently, she pushed her food around on her plate.
“Come on, Jenny. You look dreadful.”
“This from a man with a couple of still-raw scars on his face.”
“You don’t need me to tell you you’re beautiful. You get enough compliments elsewhere. You need the truth.”
She flinched. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Well, ‘nothing’ obviously doesn’t agree with you.”
Jenny shrugged. A small, heartbreakingly defiant gesture he’d seen before. A long time ago. Before he’d convinced her she could trust him. Before he’d destroyed that trust.
“It’s not important,” she said flatly.
Irritation bubbled within at her dismissal. He should have known better than to come over here. There would never be anything but pain and rejection when it came to Jenny Martin. “I give up. Enjoy your dinner.” He stood. “Whatever’s wrong, it’s eating away at you. Even this dumb ice-jock can see that. Talk to someone. Talk to Maggie or Lizzie.”
Fear twisted his gut as tears filled her eyes and spilled over. Now he knew for sure something was wrong. Jenny never cried.
* * *
DAMN. DAMN. DAMN.
Damn fate’s irony for bringing her full circle at the most vulnerable point in her life. Back to the first man she’d ever loved, and trusted. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Her heart had jumped when he’d slipped into her booth. The concern in his green eyes and in his deep voice had warmed her.
Jenny swiped at the tears and tried to compose herself. It had been hard enough to control her feelings tonight, without having Tru so close. She couldn’t handle him right now. She was too raw. The pain of her loss ached, deep inside. Yet the urge to lean on him, to absorb his strength, whispered through her.
No! That’s how it had started last time. She was still paying the price of that mistake.
She should leave before the emotions coursing through her made her do something she’d regret. Jenny stood.
As she pushed past him, Tru’s hand caught her wrist. “Don’t go. I’ll leave you alone.”
Her pulse fluttered—fight or flight? She didn’t have the energy for either. She sank back into the booth. “All right.”
The sight of the cooling food—fat congealing, covered in red sauce—was too much for her roiling stomach. She pushed the plate away and reached for her drink. The burn of the bourbon as it slid down her throat was strangely comforting.
“Can I call someone for you?”
Using the sharp pain of her memories to bolster her strength, she stiffened her spine. “No, thanks. I’m just tired.”
“Bull.”
“Excuse me?” One eyebrow arched haughtily.
“You heard me.” He leaned over and planted his palms on the table. “This is more than being tired.” A tenacious look settled across his face. Glib answers wouldn’t cut it this time.
Yet she couldn’t share the truth with him. “If you must know, I lost my job.”
“I’m sorry.” Tru straightened and slid into the seat opposite her. “You’ll find another one. Maybe not with the same perks, but a decent job.”
Disappointment sliced through her. She knew what he meant by perks, but couldn’t be bothered to set him straight. “That’s not the problem.”
As she explained, she signaled the waitress for another Jack Daniel’s. The perfect anesthetic to numb the pain and chase away the misery.
It might even help her deal with Tru.
“The bastard.” He looked ready to deal Irving some old-style hockey justice.
She tamped down the pleasure that flared at his support. “It’s my own fault. I should’ve made sure my contract had been updated. I just assumed. Now it’s too late. At least until Harry wakes up.”
Her drink arrived and she took a large swallow. The second shot went down more smoothly, warming her tight throat. Jenny raised the glass to her lips again.
“What’s really going on?”
The bourbon went down the wrong way, making her splutter.
Tru was beside her in an instant. He swapped her Jack for a glass of water.
By the time she could breathe again, she realized Tru’s thigh was pressed against hers. His arm lay across her shoulders as he encouraged her to drink more water.
Heat flooded through her. She tried to edge away, but her bag took up the remaining space between her and the wall.
“Jenny?” The worry etched into his face was nearly her undoing.
“I’m fine.” She pulled her bag onto her lap then moved as far as the enclosed booth allowed. “Look, I appreciate the concern.” She hardened her voice. “But it’s none of your business.”
She reached for the glass of bourbon, drained it, then deliberately raised her hand for another. The waitress brought it almost immediately.
Tru’s intense gaze seemed to penetrate her defenses and see into her soul. “Whatever’s going on is tearing you apart.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I�
�ve never seen you cry.”
Because she’d never let him. Not even when she’d told him about the abuse.
She couldn’t bear the conversation another second. “I have to go.”
She swallowed the refreshed drink, but this one didn’t go down as smoothly. She swayed slightly as she stood. Damn. She should have eaten more of that burger.
Once again, Tru stopped her. But his touch only added to her light-headedness.
Great. Just what she needed. She shrugged off his hand. “If it’ll get you off my back, I promise to talk to someone.”
He didn’t need to know there wasn’t anyone she could tell.
Her head pounded. Waves of fatigue swirled around her. This time, she managed to push him away, but she didn’t get far.
“Come on.” He tossed some bills on the table then took her arm. “I’ll drive you home.”
The whiskey lay heavily in her stomach. “My car,” she muttered, as she walked unsteadily, each step taking serious effort and concentration.
“I’ll bring you by to pick it up tomorrow.”
She didn’t like leaning on him, but knew she couldn’t make it to the door without his support. “I’m not drunk. Too little food. Tired. Sick.”
“Will she be all right?” the concerned waitress asked, as they passed.
“I’ll take care of her.”
Jenny snorted. His kind of care she didn’t need.
Outside the diner, the cool air cut through some of the haze in her brain. Pain filled her. Pain from the past. Pain from the present. The image of that one pink line swam before her eyes. No baby. No chance of a baby. Her knees crumpled beneath her.
Tru caught her before she hit the wet pavement and lowered her gently to the ground.
Jenny welcomed the damp seeping through her clothes as she rested her cheek against the cool stone.
“You can’t stay here.” Tru’s sharp words made her frown.
Why was he being mean? “You’re not the boss of me.”
“No. I’m not.”
She nodded, pleased he’d agreed. The motion made her head swim. She moaned softly.
Tru swore, then swung her up into his arms.
Jenny thought about struggling, but it took all her energy to control her roiling stomach. Focusing on the hard chest beneath her cheek helped. She’d bet he was ripped beneath his shirt. She trailed a finger down the corded sinew of his neck. Mmm. Yes. Definitely ripped. Tight, flat abs, thighs like tree trunks, rock-hard biceps.
A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) Page 7
