Come Home to Me

by Brenda Novak

  He hesitated. “How do you get around without a car?”

  “For the most part, I walk.” Chey’s house was down the street and around the corner from hers. Her studio was two blocks in the other direction, along with the rest of downtown, making it easy to get wherever she needed to go.

  “The exercise has obviously been good for you.”

  She wished that compliment didn’t evoke the pleasure it did. But during the past two years, she’d judged everything by how much he’d like what she was doing, how she was changing herself. She supposed the desire to finally be admired by him was too powerful to overcome. “The owner of the thrift shop where I worked introduced me to yoga. That made the difference, more than anything else.”

  “Flexible and toned.” His teeth flashed in an appreciative smile. “You look better than ever.”

  “Thanks.” There were other things to explain the physical improvements—like her strict eating habits—but she didn’t want to engage him in any more conversation than she already had. He wouldn’t care what she was doing with her life—not after he realized they weren’t going to pick up where they’d left off and fall into bed.

  “How have you been?” he asked. “It’s been a long time.”

  And she’d felt every painstaking minute of it. She couldn’t count how often she’d almost broken down and called him. Only the risk that he might find out he was Wyatt’s father stopped her.

  “Fine.” She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “You?”

  “Hangin’ in.”

  He seemed to be faring well. He’d put on a few pounds, nicely filling out his large frame, which he’d needed to do. He’d been muscular but too wiry that last year when they’d been seeing each other. According to Cheyenne and Dylan, he’d also quit using drugs. Now that she had the chance to see him, she believed it.

  “Good,” she said. “I–I’m glad to hear it.” She wished he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t move out of the doorway, and she couldn’t go anywhere while he was blocking her in.

  “I was shocked to hear that you rented the Mullins cottage. That place was a cesspool when they lived there.” He grimaced. “Talk about trashy people.”

  “It’s taken some serious work to make it livable.” She’d rented the two-bedroom because it was cheap and centrally located. Fortunately, where the house was concerned, a little elbow grease could make a big difference. “It’s clean now. I just have a few things still to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Paint the porch and fix the fence. Plant some flowers out front.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Flowers?”

  “Anything wrong with flowers?”

  “Sounds like you’re planning to stay for a while.”

  “I am.”

  “You weren’t that domestic when you left.”

  She hadn’t had a child then, but she didn’t want to draw his attention to that, since he didn’t know he was the one who’d made her a mother. “It’s tough to be too focused on everyday concerns when all you care about is getting high.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He rubbed his jaw. “I take it you’ve changed.”

  “Completely.”

  “I can see that.”

  No, he couldn’t. Not yet. He assumed the changes were superficial, that she’d eventually fall at his feet the way she had before.

  “I would’ve helped you clean up the rental,” he said. “You should’ve called me.”

  She cleared her throat. “It wasn’t necessary. I managed.”

  His eyes became guarded and inscrutable. He was figuring out that the “changes” he’d noticed included an unwillingness to associate with him. “Couldn’t have been easy to get all that done, not with a baby.”

  Tentacles of fear slithered around her heart and squeezed. This was his first mention of Wyatt. She had to be careful, had to handle his perceptions carefully from the start. Any hint of suspicion on his part could destroy her happiness. “No, but I could’ve had Wyatt’s father come and help. He would have, if I’d needed him.”

  “Doesn’t he live in Arizona?”

  Cheyenne had supplied everyone with this information, even Dylan. “He does, but he could come here. He has money, and he cares about Wyatt.”

  “You’re in touch with him, then? He’s a stand-up guy?” He sounded hopeful, as if he wanted that for her. There was no reason he wouldn’t. To her knowledge, he’d never wished her ill, never done anything purposely to hurt her. He’d been too self-absorbed, but that was simply a byproduct of the fact that he’d never really cared about her, not like she’d cared about him.

  “We don’t have a relationship beyond Wyatt,” she said, “but...he’s a great father.”

  “That’s got to make a big difference.”

  If Wyatt’s father helped out to any significant degree, she wouldn’t have had to clean the worst property in town in order to have a place to live but, thankfully, Aaron didn’t seem to make the connection. “It does,” she said. “And soon I’ll be earning good money myself.”

  “As a yoga instructor, right?”

  “And a massage therapist,” she added so no one would be surprised when she advertised her services. She wanted everyone to understand from the beginning that she’d be doing both. She needed all the legitimacy she could establish.

  “How’d you get into that?”

  “I met someone at yoga who became my roommate. He was a massage therapist.”

  “He...”

  “We’ve never been together, if that’s what you’re asking. Roger was gay. He paid half the rent and got me into massage.”

  “I see. Do you have a license or...whatever it takes?”

  “I did some yoga-teacher training. And I’m a certified massage therapist.” Luckily for her, a government grant had covered her schooling and Wyatt’s day-care expenses while she attended class.

  “You’ve got big plans. When will you be open for business?”

  “In a week, if everything goes well.” After she’d painted the interior of her studio and built her own tenant improvements, like the reception counter. She didn’t know much about construction but with the price of supplies she couldn’t afford to hire anyone, so she’d just have to learn. Dylan would do what he could, and Cheyenne would help when she wasn’t working at Little Mary’s B and B, but her sister and brother-in-law had their own lives, and she was in a hurry to get it done.

  “Great.” He winked at her. “I’ll be your first customer.”

  She knew he thought he was being charming, but she stiffened all the same. “Excuse me?”

  He stared at her. “I said I’d become a client.”

  “But...it’s not what you think.”

  His smile faded at her affronted tone. “What do I think?”

  “I’ll be running two legitimate businesses, Aaron. I don’t...I don’t party anymore. Or do anything else that might interest you.”

  He scowled. “Because you know so much about what interests me after being gone for two years?”

  “I know the only thing I’ve got that interests you. It’s all I’ve ever had. And I’m no longer willing to...to be one of your many sex partners. That’s not the life I’ve chosen for myself.”

  “Many partners? Are we counting?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not judging you.”

  “How generous.”

  That hadn’t come out right. She had no grounds to criticize anyone, and she knew it. “I’m not the same person I was, that’s all.”

  A muscle flexed in his cheek. “You’re saying I took advantage of you before?”

  He’d had a few brushes with the law, so his reputation wasn’t any more sterling than hers. The Fearsome Five, as he and his brothers had been called, wer
e used to being blamed even for things they didn’t do—although she doubted that would continue. The last chief of police had recently been fired for misconduct; the new one didn’t seem quite so drunk on his own power.

  “No.” She shook her head again for emphasis. “What happened before was entirely my fault. You never asked me to follow you around like a puppy or to crawl into your bed whenever I had the chance.” She laughed as she rolled her eyes. “It must’ve driven you crazy to have me hanging on your every word, your every move. I’m sorry I was so annoying.”

  He didn’t laugh with her. “Yeah, that was pretty miserable.”

  She could hear the sarcasm in his statement. He’d probably forgotten how much she used to irritate him, but she remembered. When her mother died, she’d instinctively gone to him for comfort, but he’d turned her away with a few sharp words for waking him in the middle of the night.

  Still, she didn’t hold that against him. Not really. She just wanted the next man in her life to care a little more.

  “I’m sure it was,” she said, taking his words as if he’d meant them literally. “But I won’t bother you this time around. I–I’m looking for other things.”

  “So you’ve said.” Jaw hard, lips tight, he leaned one shoulder against the door frame. Obviously, he wasn’t happy with the way this was going. She could tell because of the badass attitude he’d adopted. It might’ve made her uneasy—that cutting glare made most people nervous—but she couldn’t imagine he’d get angry just because she preferred to keep her distance. He’d never wanted her to begin with. So why would it matter now if she refused to have any contact with him? He could have practically any woman he wanted. Even those who pretended to be too good for him sometimes cast longing glances in his direction.

  “And what, exactly, are these other ‘things’ you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “A husband for me and a great, uh, stepfather for Wyatt. A committed relationship.” Which counted him out. “So...if you’ll excuse me...”

  He didn’t react. He was too busy searching her face with those hazel eyes of his. Maybe he was hoping to find the old Presley, but she hadn’t been lying when she said that person was gone.

  When she stepped closer, indicating that she expected him to get out of the way, he shoved off from the wall and waved her past him with an exaggerated flourish. “Be my guest.”

  Gone was the flicker of excitement she’d seen when he first addressed her. His expression had turned implacable, stony. But she had no reason to regret her words. She’d only done what she had to do. And she’d taken responsibility for the past, laid nothing at his feet.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, and walked into the front, although it felt as if she were dragging her heart on the floor behind her.

  Now she wouldn’t have to worry about running into him in the future, she told herself. They could both work to avoid each other—cross over to the other side of the street, if necessary. That would make the next few weeks or months, however long it took him to move to Reno, easier.

  So why did her eyes sting with unshed tears and her throat feel like she’d just swallowed a grapefruit?

  She was standing in line, face hot and pulse racing, when Kyle and Riley stopped Aaron as he strode toward the front of the store. They greeted him, and he responded, sounding perfectly fine. Her rejection hadn’t stung at all—which proved he’d never really cared about her to begin with. He’d used her, but the way she’d thrown herself at him made it equally her fault.

  “Hey, Presley’s here,” Kyle said. “Have you seen her?”

  She curled the fingernails of her free hand into her palm, praying she wouldn’t have to hear Aaron’s response. But there was no missing it. She couldn’t have kept herself from listening even if she’d had the power to do so.

  “From a distance,” he said.

  There’d been very little distance between them when he saved her from falling over those books, but she didn’t begrudge him a white lie. She just wished the line would move faster so she could get out of the bookstore.

  “She’s opening a yoga studio one store down from Callie’s photography studio,” Riley informed him. “She’ll be doing massage there, too.”

  There was an undercurrent in that statement, as if they all considered it pretty amusing. No doubt everyone was wondering if there’d be additional services she couldn’t advertise. But that was her fault, too. It would take time to live down what she’d been like before.

  “One-stop shopping,” Aaron said dryly.

  Assuming he was playing into those suspicions, Presley flinched.

  “She’ll have no trouble coming up with paying customers,” Riley said. “Not the way she looks these days.”

  “She looks about the same to me,” Aaron said, and moved away.

  He was leaving. Presley’s internal “Aaron radar” tracked him to the door. Then, in spite of her efforts to keep her eyes on the person in front of her, she glanced over to catch a final glimpse of him—and found him looking at her again. This time his expression wasn’t inscrutable as much as it was bewildered. But that hurt-little-boy pout disappeared beneath a mask of indifference as soon as he realized she was watching, and he stepped out.

  2

  Aaron stood on Cheyenne and Dylan’s doorstep, next to the baby stroller parked on the porch. Waiting for someone to answer his knock, he heard Cheyenne’s voice from inside the house. “Mommy’s here, Wyatt,” she cooed.

  A few seconds later, she swung open the door and did a double take.

  Aaron had imagined she was holding Presley’s baby, but she wasn’t. She must’ve said what she did as she left him in the other room.

  “Aaron! I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He hadn’t planned on coming over—until he ran into Presley at Ted Dixon’s signing. Ever since he’d learned she was back, and even before that, he’d been hoping for an opportunity to apologize for his behavior the night her mother died. He hadn’t been able to deal with the level of emotion involved. That kind of tragedy carried him back to his own mother’s death, something he avoided at all costs. But he felt bad for being such a callous jerk and would never forget how frightened he’d been when Presley went missing right after she left his place and didn’t turn up for several days. He blamed himself for everything that happened in the interim; he knew she’d been through a lot. Whatever she’d experienced was so awful that neither Cheyenne nor Dylan would talk about it. For a long time, he’d wanted to tell Presley he was sorry, but she hadn’t given him the chance. Whenever he asked for her number, Cheyenne told him she didn’t have a phone. And Presley never called him. Even in the two weeks she’d been home, she hadn’t tried to reconnect. If not for his customers at the auto body shop alerting him, he would’ve had no idea she was back in town, not until he ran into her at the signing. Dylan hadn’t mentioned it. Dylan rarely talked about Presley in Aaron’s presence.

  “Dyl home?” he asked because Cheyenne was still blocking the doorway, and he didn’t know how to inspire a warmer welcome. He’d guessed Presley would be stopping by to pick up her baby. Wyatt had to be somewhere if he wasn’t with his mother, and this was the logical place. The stroller confirmed it.

  His sister-in-law began to fidget. “Dyl?”

  “Yeah. Your husband and my big brother—remember him?” Presley couldn’t assume he was merely looking to get in her pants if her sister and his brother were around when he spoke to her. That would make the contact legit. Then maybe they could strike up some of their old camaraderie, and he could walk her home and offer an apology, since things had gone badly at the bookstore before he could work his way around to what he’d really wanted to say.

  Cheyenne ignored the sarcastic jab. “Of course he’s here. He’s watching TV.”

  When she glanced past him, at the drive, he realized why she
was reluctant to invite him in. She didn’t want him here when Presley arrived. But Cheyenne was too polite to make it any more obvious. With a pleasant smile, she stepped back. “Come on in.”

  He understood that she didn’t feel he’d treated her sister right. He hadn’t been the best for Presley. But he’d never hurt her intentionally. And he wasn’t the same person he used to be. Why did they think only she could change?

  When Cheyenne grabbed a sweater off the hall tree instead of following him toward the living room, he stopped. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere.” She waved a hand. “I’m just taking Wyatt for a walk.”

  “It’s cold and dark.” It had also been raining an hour ago and could rain again. Spring usually came early in Gold Country, but the first week of March had been a week of full winter.

  “We won’t go far.”

  A dark-headed little boy toddled out of the living room, holding a rubber block, the corner of which he had stuffed in his mouth.

  “This must be Wyatt.”

  There was another pause on Cheyenne’s part, but he understood why. She didn’t want anything, or anyone, to come between Presley and her recovery, and that included him. “Yeah. That’s Wyatt, her pride and joy.”

  It was motherhood that’d changed Presley. Aaron felt certain of it.

  Wyatt stared up at Aaron with round eyes the color of melted chocolate—just like his mom’s.

  “Cute little bugger,” he said. “Seems big for his age. Kind of surprising coming from a half-pint like Pres.”

  “Presley says his father was tall.” Cheyenne moved as if she planned to sweep the baby into her arms and head outside, but Aaron was closer and stooped to pick him up before she could.

  “Hey, you,” he said. “What a chunk you are. Doesn’t look like you’ve ever missed a meal.”