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Homecoming

Page 28

by Lacey Baker


  “She died thinking we didn’t care enough to come back. And she left us those dogs and the inn hoping they would keep us here.” He kept talking, reconciling with himself.

  Nikki simply held his hand. She listened attentively and every now and then rubbed her fingers along the back of his hand to remind him that she was there.

  “I can’t bring her back,” he said finally. “And I can’t change what happened.”

  “No, you can’t,” she told him.

  “And I can’t be what she wanted me to be.”

  Nikki shook her head. “That’s not true. She wanted you to be happy. Whether that happiness was here in Sweetland or not, that’s what she wanted for all of you.” Her chest clenched as she said the words; the thought of Quinn leaving caused an indescribable pain. But Nikki wouldn’t hold him here, she wouldn’t guilt him with her feelings, adding to what he already felt for what happened to his grandmother. If leaving was his answer, then she had to be fine with it. She had to let him go.

  The moment she let her mind take hold of that fact Quinn looked at her saying words that would only confuse her more.

  “But now there’s you.”

  She wanted to say and? but refrained.

  “I never counted on you,” he continued. The way he was looking at her was speaking a lot louder than his words. He wanted her, there was no mistaking that. Lust was clearly in his eyes. It was also easy and convenient since they were here alone.

  Nikki looked away, because she’d realized that lust wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

  “I thought I’d come back and go to the funeral then go home. I didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to stay in this place because of all the bad memories. The pain.”

  “That pain travels with you, Quinn. Don’t you know that? Did you really hurt less in Seattle or did you simply trade that pain for something else? Guilt maybe? Wherever you go your baggage goes right along with you. So at some point you just have to leave it all behind. You have to move on.”

  His lips clenched tightly. He hadn’t shaved; his usually neat and trimmed low-cut beard was thicker, his eyes darker, giving him a really grim appearance.

  “Sometimes things are easier said than done,” was his reply.

  “I wish there was something I could say to make it easier,” she told him, lifting a hand to rub along his cheek.

  Nikki really did wish she could just speak some words and he’d magically feel better. She wished she could take all his bad memories away and be there to make new ones with him. But Quinn would have to want the same thing. Something told her he didn’t.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you were here when I came back,” he told her. “I don’t regret what’s happened between us.”

  The but hung ominously in the air.

  Only to never come because Quinn had leaned in, touching her lips softly with his own. It was the softest, gentlest kiss he’d ever given her. His tongue stroked hers almost lovingly and despite warning bells all but screeching in her head Nikki melted into that kiss. She leaned in closer, wrapped her arms around his neck. Felt his hands slide down her back, pulling her closer. She straddled him because his hold on her was so tight and this kiss was so sweet. His hands were moving up and down her back, one finally cupping her head to hold her exactly where he wanted her.

  When he pulled back they both heaved for breath. He kissed her lips again, just a peck, then rested his forehead against hers.

  “Sharane,” he whispered, his voice sounding more tortured than she’d ever heard it before.

  With an inner start Nikki realized why it was more tortured. Then, as if he was foolish enough to think she hadn’t heard him the first time, he whispered it again, this time with his voice cracking, “Sharane.”

  For one excruciatingly long moment Nikki remained perfectly still. She tried to block out everything but her mind chose this moment to act like a tape recorder, replaying the last second over and over until she flattened her palms on Quinn’s chest, pushed against him, and stood up.

  “What did you just call me?” she asked. She’d closed her eyes, couldn’t stand to look at him as he said it again. While she waited for his response she shook her head, praying she’d been wrong, knowing she wasn’t.

  “I … I … dammit!” he cursed. “Nikki, I’m … sorry.”

  Her head would not stop shaking and now her entire body had joined in. She opened her eyes slowly, taking a couple more backward steps because the distance between them needed to be better than great right now.

  “I am not Sharane,” she said slowly.

  “I know,” he said, standing and taking a step toward her.

  “No!” Nikki held up both hands to stop him. “No! Don’t come near me.

  “I am not your dead ex-girlfriend,” she continued. “And I never will be.”

  “I know and I apologize. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Oh, you know why you said it. If you don’t you’re in a bigger state of denial than I ever thought possible. You’re still in love with her, Quinn. You’re in love with a damned ghost!”

  “No, Nikki. Listen to me, it was a mistake. A really bad mistake and I’m so sorry but I didn’t mean it. It’s just been a really long day and I—”

  She didn’t give a damn how long the day had been. “I want you to go,” she told him, her heart breaking with each word.

  “Nikki—”

  “I want you to go now, Quinn!”

  “Not without you understanding. There’s been so much going on since I came back. So many memories and feelings and just when I thought I was getting a handle on them. Just when I thought—” He paused, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I just need you to understand.”

  “Understand?” she whispered incredulously. “You want me to understand you’re so in love with your ex that you’ve been thinking of her every minute you’ve been with me. No wonder you can’t say how long you’re staying and you won’t make any plans beyond the next day—because you’re still waiting for her, dreaming of her! You’re so pathetic! You wouldn’t come back to see your dying grandmother because you were too busy mourning a girl who’s been dead for twenty years. A girl you can never bring back!”

  She wanted to reach out and smack him, or to kick herself for falling for another man who couldn’t or wouldn’t love her in return. Maybe she was the pathetic one. No, she wasn’t. She deserved love and dammit, she was going to have it. If it wasn’t with Quinn Cantrell then so be it, but Nikki wasn’t about to settle for half a man while the other half was either in love with or still eaten up with guilt about his dead ex-girlfriend!

  When he didn’t say another word she almost choked on her tears. The pain in her chest was so deep and so profound, she should have fallen to the floor with its intensity. But she didn’t. She didn’t cry and she didn’t break. Not when it was Randall breaking her heart and not for Quinn.

  “See, you can’t even deny that,” she stated in a voice that sounded strong, resilient, and drop-dead-serious.

  “Was I your substitute for her while you were here in Sweetland? When you decided it was time to go back to your real life were you just going to leave me here like you hurried to leave Sharane’s memory? No,” she continued talking while shaking her head. “You won’t answer that. You won’t open up and share a goddamned thing about your life, your past, your pain. You’re too perfect for that, you’re the Mighty Quinn, no question about that. But you know what else you are? You’re a bastard. A depressing and selfish bastard who doesn’t know enough to see good standing right in front of him. Well, I’m through hiding behind corners staring at you, wanting you, needing you. I’m through waiting for you to be the man that I need. I’m just through, Quinn. Now you can just get the hell out of my house!”

  * * *

  There was nothing Quinn could say. There were words rambling around in his head, an explanation or two that he could spurt out and pray the words didn’t fall on deaf ears. But he didn’t because he’d just
done what he’d sworn to her he would never do. He’d hurt her far more than the lying, opportunistic Randall. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. Not only was Nikki hurt, she was disappointed, and that stabbed at Quinn like a jagged blade.

  It would have been better if he’d just left and gone back to Seattle without ever seeing her again. It might have been better if he dropped off the face of the earth altogether. Anything would be an improvement over what he’d just done, leaving had been his only apology, his only attempt at soothing her pain. It was the least he could do.

  Getting into the car, he cursed his stupidity and started the engine. He drove in a trance, much as he had earlier, because, dammit, it seemed this day couldn’t get any worse.

  Then it did.

  Quinn’s cell phone rang just as he was about to turn onto Sycamore.

  “Hello?” he answered, half hoping it was Nikki on the other end, but knowing that this was about as probable as the sky opening up and raining cash all around him.

  “Quinn! Parker’s been hurt. They’re sending a medevac to pick him up!” Raine yelled, her voice hitching as she cried.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “He was on his bike and he crashed somewhere on the highway. The officer that called said he was speeding and lost control. They’re taking him to Capital City Hospital since they have a trauma center there.”

  “Dammit!” Quinn cursed. “I’m about five minutes from the house. You and Savannah come on out and we’ll get right on the road.”

  “Okay. Can you call Michelle?” she asked, breaking down totally.

  “It’s okay, Raine. He’s gonna be fine. I’ll stop at Michelle’s place on my way to get you. Get Savannah and wait on the porch.”

  Ten minutes later the Cantrell siblings were on their way to Annapolis.

  Chapter 22

  Preston Cantrell drove like a madman, cutting the forty-five-minute ride from Baltimore to Annapolis short by about twenty minutes. He pulled his car into the parking lot so erratically he ended up taking two parking spaces instead of one. But he didn’t care. In what was almost a run he arrived at the double glass doors leading to the emergency room, cursing that they were taking too long to slide open for him.

  He was at the front desk giving Parker’s name when his cell phone rang.

  “Yeah?” he answered after he’d seen Quinn’s number on the display screen.

  “They’re about to take him into surgery.”

  “Where? I’m at the emergency entrance.”

  “Third floor, come down to the end of the hall to the left.”

  The young female at the desk was giving him a look that said speak-now-or-get-the-hell-away. Preston left without a word, running to a bank of elevators he prayed would take him to his destination. When he arrived in his brother’s room his racing heart and stalled footsteps held him still.

  On a bed seemingly surrounded by tubes and white sheets was his brother. His twin. For all intents and purposes the other part of him. He was five minutes older than Parker and an inch and a half taller. Those were their biggest differences. They were closer to each other than any of their other siblings—hence the reason they’d both ended up in Baltimore instead of in separate locales. They saw each other frequently, either in the courtroom or when they carved out a moment to have dinner and/or drinks. There was nothing Preston would not do for his brother, absolutely nothing, and he knew Parker felt the same.

  Seeing him like this was a blow to Preston’s already fragile emotional state and his body trembled at the sight.

  Raine moved first, coming to stand beside Preston, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

  “He’s unconscious. And his leg is broken pretty badly. They have to go in and … and remove the shattered pieces of bone,” she said, her voice cracking just a bit.

  Michelle came to his other side and made a motion to touch him, but Preston chose that moment to move. He wasn’t ready for that, not just yet. Coming to a stop beside the bed, he took his brother’s swollen hand that was riddled with cuts and blood.

  “Hang in there, bro,” he whispered, his own voice hitching on the words.

  He felt a strong hand clapping on his shoulder and knew that Quinn stood near.

  “Let us pray,” he heard Michelle say and closed his eyes because that was all he could do at the moment.

  The sound of her voice was so familiar, the words of spiritual inspiration rolling like a memorized litany from her lips. His chest tightened, emotion threatening to clog his lungs. His grandmother had prayed just like that, standing right beside the bed when his father died. That had been the only other time—besides at Gramma’s funeral—that Preston had shed a tear. Gritting his teeth, he held on as tightly as he could to his emotion. Parker wasn’t dying, not today and not anytime soon. They were going to fix him up and he’d be back to normal in no time. They’d go back to the city and work together as they’d done all these years. Everything would be back to normal soon, he convinced himself.

  When the nurses came to transport Parker to surgery, Preston moved to the waiting room with his other siblings. He sat in a chair near a wall. Raine sat right next to him, reaching out to take his hand. Quinn sat a short distance away, his elbows propped on his knees, head down. Michelle and Savannah were together, Savannah’s head resting on Michelle’s shoulder as tears marred her absolutely perfect face.

  * * *

  Nikki and Cordy arrived at the hospital at almost two thirty that morning. Cordy had heard about the accident and called Odell, who told her it might be best to come and tell Nikki in person. Mother and daughter had knocked on Nikki’s door until she rolled out of the bed, head pounding, eyes swollen from crying, to answer.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she’d answered, instantly awake at the sight of both her mother and sister crying.

  The moment they’d told her Nikki had slipped on sweatpants and a shirt and they’d driven as fast as Cordy would go without the threat of being pulled over by the police.

  “He’s still in surgery. The family is in waiting room C,” the nurse at the front desk on the third floor told them.

  They’d moved quickly to that waiting room, only for Nikki to stop the moment she saw Quinn.

  He sat alone, solemn and defiant. He wouldn’t want anyone near him right now, wouldn’t want the comfort of a friend or of a … a … what was she to him now?

  Instead of spending her time trying to figure that out she went straight to Michelle and Savannah. They were the two Cantrells she was closest to—with the exception of Quinn, that is.

  “Hey,” Michelle said, looking up to greet her and Cordy. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “Jonah heard the call for an ambulance over the police wire and told Caleb, who was working the night shift at the firehouse. Caleb called Cordy and here we are,” Nikki said, trying valiantly for a light voice. It wasn’t easy since Quinn was so close and her heart ached to go to him. And Savannah was crying quietly, as if her world had just crumbled. Michelle’s eyes were puffy and red and Nikki just wanted to hug them both until they felt better.

  “Oh, the Sweetland hotline. They’re faster and usually more accurate than MSNBC,” Michelle said, trying for a bit of humor.

  Cordy was the only one to chuckle. “Can I get anyone coffee?” she asked.

  Michelle shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

  “I need something,” Savannah said, sitting up straighter. “I need to get away from here for a minute.”

  “Sure. Sure. I’ll walk with you,” Nikki offered, because suddenly she needed to get away from here, too.

  “They say he’s going to be okay,” Savannah said as they stepped off the elevator to the first floor of the hospital where they were told the canteen and vending machines were located.

  “I believe that,” Nikki told her unwaveringly. “Parker’s too strong and too stubborn not to come out of this okay. Besides, somebody has to curse out the motorcycle
that failed to keep him safe.”

  Savannah almost smiled at that. “Or the road that made him crash into the guardrail. He’ll be really pissed about that.”

  “He will and he’ll probably be ready to arrest even the officers that showed up on the scene for one reason or another.”

  “Yep, that sounds just like Parker,” Savannah agreed. “It’s been different since we’ve all been back. Different than before and then again the same,” she continued as they walked down a hallway that seemed deserted. “Does that make sense?”

  Nikki nodded. “It does. You’ve all grown up since the last time you were here. You’re different people and still you’re siblings, connected by blood and tradition.”

  “And Gramma and that house and those dang dogs.” She let out a long sigh.

  “Yeah, always connected by something,” Nikki agreed.

  “He can’t die,” Savannah whispered, stopping and standing perfectly still.

  Nikki stopped with her, looked at the woman who on every magazine, every billboard, every runway, always looked so perfect. Not a hair out of place, makeup that looked as if it were made just for her. There were days Nikki had looked at those pictures of Savannah and felt deep pangs of jealousy, moments when she wished for one second it could have been her, that she’d been bold enough to leave, to reach for something other than what was right in front of her. Then she’d resigned herself to the fact that Savannah’s path was her own and that she’d had to make her own way as well.

  Now, looking at her as tears poured from swollen and red eyes, slipping down cheeks with absolutely no makeup, slim shoulders racking with the pain she was experiencing, Nikki realized that girl in those pictures and on those runways wasn’t her best friend, she wasn’t the Savannah she’d grown up with. Here, right at this moment, this woman who had no choice but to feel real feelings and to accept human frailties without the cover of cosmetics or the airbrushing of photographs had been her very best friend. Nikki’s heart ached for her.

 

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