Crossing Lines

by Alannah Lynne

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

  They hadn’t spoken since Christmas, so it made sense he would automatically assume something was wrong. Also, four forty-five a.m. phone calls usually meant a family emergency.

  “I need to ask you some questions.”

  Sheets rustled as he moved around. “Now? In the middle of the night?”

  “It’s early morning, not the middle of the night. Why did you think I couldn’t run Seymore Builders?”

  Betty’s voice in the background accompanied more rustling and a groan as he crawled out of bed. “This can’t wait until morning? Real morning?”

  “No.”

  There was a squeak, like a door opening and closing. “We just didn’t think you could do it alone.” His voice echoed, and she assumed he’d gone to the shitter… the perfect place for him to have this conversation.

  “I worked there my entire life and knew the business inside and out, nearly as well as Dad.”

  “You constantly ran things by him and never made any decisions by yourself—”

  “I made all of my own decisions. I never had less than three projects going at one time, with a million small decisions to make throughout the day. We also had big-picture decisions to make, and those we talked out. After gathering information, we made our own decisions. It’s called brainstorming, dickwad.”

  After a long pause, he said, “Sorry, Sam, we did what we thought was best for everyone.”

  “No, you all did what you thought was best for you. You saw a chance to sell everything off and make a pile of money.”

  “Mom’s the only one who benefited from any of the money.” His voice grew tight, defensive.

  “Really? You didn’t take a fee for all of your time? How much has the initial investment grown? Even in this shitty market, I bet the total value has increased. Am I right?”

  “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  “Tough. Shit. I haven’t liked anything you’ve done for a long time. Like me, you’ll get over it.”

  She disconnected but decided to give her mother the courtesy of not calling until six. She took a shower and dressed and tried to eat breakfast, but nothing sounded promising, so she gave up and sat at the kitchen table while watching the clock. When the big hand hit twelve and the little hit six, she picked up the phone.

  Her mother answered much the same as the others. “Sam? What’s wrong?’

  “I’m trying to work through some things, and I need your help.”

  After a brief pause, her mother said, “Okay.”

  “Why did you agree to sell off everything? Did you really believe I wasn’t capable of running Seymore Builders without Daddy?”

  This time, the pause was long enough to cause a truckload of tension to build in Sam’s gut. Her daddy always said, “Never ask the question if you don’t want the answer.” This would be the perfect scenario to heed caution, but she needed answers. Good, bad, ugly… whatever the response, she wanted to understand why her mom sided with her brothers and left Sam out in the cold.

  “You were more than capable of running the business.”

  Sam gasped, more confused than before. “Then why did you sell everything out from under me?”

  “I watched your dad spend many sleepless nights, watching the weather forecast, waiting to see if the wind would blow hard enough to dry the ground, wondering if the loan would come through or if the sale would happen in time to pay off the loan without accruing penalties.

  “I wouldn’t have chosen that life for you, so after your dad died—of a heart attack from the stress—and your brothers approached me about selling, I agreed. Not because I doubted you, but because I wanted to protect you. You had Michael and Michaela, and what I thought was a wonderful life. I wanted you free of the stress and aggravation that came with the business.”

  Sam was speechless. Her mother should’ve allowed Sam the choice, but she’d acted out of love and responsibility as a mother, protecting her daughter. Sam cut her eyes to the bedroom… Much the way Sam tried to protect Michaela from harm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her mother sighed. “I tried. You were so angry; you wouldn’t listen. After things fell apart with Michael, I realized my mistake. But it was too late. Everything was gone.” She paused to take a deep, shaky breath. “I could’ve taken the money and put you back into business, but I still didn’t think it was the best choice for you, especially not as a single mom, so I left well enough alone.”

  Sam’s head was reeling. She’d gotten the response she expected from Michael and Trey, but her mother’s explanation left her ungrounded and flailing.

  “Why did you need these answers now, sweetheart, at six o’clock in the morning?”

  Sam and her mom weren’t as close as Sam had been to her dad, but in a house full of men, the two had needed to stick together to keep from losing their minds. She told her mom about Kevin and all that transpired over the past few days, at least the G-rated mom version, and then waited for her response.

  The response was slow in coming, and she could tell her mom carefully considered her words before speaking. “Sometimes, people make bad decisions with the best of intentions.”

  “Yeah.” Sometimes people made decisions without thought to others, like Michael and Trey. Sometimes, people like her mom… and Kevin… made bad choices while trying to do good.

  “I’m sorry for calling so early. Thanks for talking to me and clearing all this up for me.” She brushed her hair away from her face and massaged her temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen before when you tried to explain. I guess I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

  She disconnected the call as Michy bounced into the kitchen, ready for breakfast. One look at Sam, and her bounce thudded to a halt. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”

  Sam took a deep breath and opened her arms, needing her sweet, innocent baby girl close to her. “Nothing.”

  “But you’ve been crying. You never cry. Not even when you gots hurt.”

  “Yeah, but you know what? It’s okay to cry sometimes.” She brushed the baby-fine hair curled around Michy’s face away from her forehead and gave her a kiss. “I’m fine. Let’s get your breakfast and get you to school.”

  While Michy ate, Sam rummaged around in the bathroom drawers and found the cover-up and foundation she never wore. She dabbed a little on her finger and went to work on the dark circles hanging below her red, swollen eyes. Combined with the pink nose, swollen lips, and puffy face, this was a lost cause. Maybe she should wrap her arm in a bandage, slap a few Band-Aids here and there, and claim assault by a bus. She already had the limp to back up the claim.

  She wasn’t willing to let Kevin off the hook just yet and still wasn’t exactly sure what she intended to say to him. But as far as her life went, regardless of her appearance, she was a hundred pounds lighter and freer than she’d been in a long, long time. She supposed, regardless of what happened with her and Kevin, she had him to thank for her freedom.

  Chapter Twenty

  The past eighteen hours were the longest of Kevin’s life. He couldn’t remember ever being so miserable and felt like his soul was slowly and methodically being sliced to pieces. Sam’s call last night brought a sliver of hope, but he hadn’t heard from her since, and neither had Marianne.

  “You going home anytime soon?”

  Kevin lifted his head from the easel of his upraised hands and looked across his office at Marianne. Although pissed about the screwed-up work situation with Sam, she understood where he’d been coming from with Lizbeth. She had his back, regardless of how badly he messed up.

  He once told Marianne she and Sam were a lot alike. Right now, the only thing keeping him sane was the hope that if Marianne understood his motivations, Sam might also understand. He wasn’t sure she would ever forgive him, but if she got to the point of understanding and didn’t hate him… that would be a million times better than where they were now.

  “Yeah, I suppose. I’ve been here all day and ha
ven’t accomplished a god-damned thing. No need to keep spinning my wheels with more of the same.”

  “I’m sorry it went down like this. I never thought I’d see the day my big brother fell in love…” She dropped her head and sighed, then looked up at him with a mischievous expression. “Maybe she’ll take this job, and your charm will eventually win her back.”

  “God, I hope so.” Especially since hope was the only thing he had at this point.

  He helped Marianne shut down the office and walked her to her car. “In the spirit of positive thinking,” he said, “I’m going home and making a pitcher of sweet iced tea.”

  He told Sam he wouldn’t disappoint her again by not having any on hand. He would keep a damned pitcher of sweet tea in his fridge forever… just in case.

  Two hours later, Kevin had made the tea, poured out all the alcohol in the house so he wasn’t tempted to revert to his old coping mechanisms, and managed to cook a halfway decent dinner. He’d just gone to the bedroom and stripped off his shirt when a knock sounded at the door.

  Hope drove his heart to pump triple time, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and run through the list of possible visitors, so he wasn’t crushed when he found someone other than Sam at his door. He tried to call Callie earlier to ask a few questions about the furnishings in the Vanguard sales office. Maybe she decided to drop by, rather than call. His visitor might also be Wade.

  The poor guy was as annihilated as Kevin. He came to work this morning, but when Kevin dropped by to check on him, he was such a mess Kevin sent him home. Although, he doubted Wade actually went home. The more likely scenario was he’d headed to Riverside to try and change Miranda’s mind, or to kill the son of a bitch she’d been messing around with.

  Hello? Pot… meet kettle.

  As he rounded the corner, the most beautiful site in the world greeted him. Well past her bedtime, Michy stood beside her mom, a mud pie in her hands, the sweetest smile in the world on her face. Her mamma appeared less sweet, a whole lot wary, and nervous.

  He wanted to go straight to Sam, but Michy was the one bearing gifts, so he knelt in front of her and tried to control the crack in his voice. “Hey, piccolina, what cha got there?”

  “Mommy said she messed up your other pie, so she helped me make this one for you.”

  Sam and Michaela were so much stronger than him, because despite his best effort, he couldn’t hold back the tears stinging his eyes. Sam would never have helped Michy make this pie, let alone take her anywhere near him, if she didn’t intend to at least hear him out.

  He ran a hand over his face to wipe the struggling tears away and lifted the pie from her hands. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.” He wrapped his arm around her and held her tightly, then kissed her forehead and stood. To Sam, he said, “Will you come in?”

  He realized she also had a tear in her eye, and the sight completely unraveled him. “Yeah, for a minute. I need to get Michy to bed.”

  He set the pie on the kitchen counter while Michy ran off to the living room and changed the channel on the TV.

  Sam laughed nervously. “I guess she’s making herself at home.”

  “Yeah…” He smiled as she climbed onto the couch and wrapped up in the blanket he kept on the back of the sofa. Nothing in the world would make him happier than to have these two part of his home. He cleared his throat and nodded to the pie. “Thank you. I don’t know how or where, but I’ll keep it forever.”

  An awkward silence filled the room while they stared at each other, each trying to read the others’ thoughts. When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he said, “I screwed up. I’m so sorry.”

  He had the sense he should try to explain again, but what more was there for him to say. Lizbeth said their conversation went well, and she’d explained how she used the wedding to manipulate him. She said Sam listened, so she knew the basics. Other than saying he was sorry, again, he was at a loss.

  After what seemed like another two hours of standing in a black hole, Sam said, “If you could go back in time and change things, would you?”

  “Hell yeah.” He glanced to the couch to see if Michy had caught the slip. “I would’ve ended things with Lizbeth five months ago, wedding or no. If I had still been with her when I met you…” He let the sentence drop off as he thought back to the weekend. “This is where I get tripped up.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and paced around the island. “If I’d stopped your advances, I’m not sure we would’ve picked up again. I wouldn’t have had the time with you and Michy, and I wouldn’t have fallen in love.” He stopped and looked into her eyes, imploring her to understand his dilemma. “It was wrong. But you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. How can I regret that?”

  He leaned against a barstool and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m human, and I’m a man. We screw up. But I swear to you, I will never willingly or knowingly or intentionally hurt you again. If I think you might not be okay with something, I won’t do it. Well,”—he leaned in close, making sure Michy couldn’t hear him—“if it’s something kinky, and I’m not sure you’ll like it, I’ll ask, we’ll talk about it, and decide together.”

  She ran her hand up her forehead, brushing loose curls away from her face, and blew out a breath. “Part of me thinks I’m an idiot for even standing here talking to you, and part of me understands sometimes people make mistakes while trying to do the right thing.”

  Whoa… Lizbeth had actually gotten through to her? He owed her big time.

  She must’ve read the shock on his face because she laughed and said, “Yeah, surprised me, too. After Lizbeth left, I spent a long time thinking about my past, and I made some calls. I called Michael and found out he wouldn’t change anything. He’s still an asshole. I called my oldest brother, Trey, and got the same response. One more strike and you would’ve been out. But then I called my mom.” She leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. “She didn’t sell the business because she doubted my ability.”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “She sold it because she thought the stress killed my dad, and she didn’t want the same thing for me.”

  “No shit.” He shot another quick glance to the sofa, where Michy had fallen asleep. Maybe he could convince her mamma to fall asleep here, too. “Why didn’t she tell you?”

  She chewed her lip and stared at the floor. “She might’ve tried, but I was too angry to listen.”

  Sam didn’t look sheepish often, and even though the response was inappropriate, he laughed. “This is a tough business. I understand why she wanted to protect you.” He turned serious. “Would she have objections to you being part of a larger team? Not running solo, but working with me and Marianne?”

  Although things were looking better than a few hours ago, she still hadn’t accepted his apology, nor let him off the hook. If she would agree to working with them, he might be able to use Marianne’s tactics and win her over with his charm… without the aggression he used the first time they met.

  She swiped her tongue over her bottom lip a few times while considering his question. “I don’t know if she would or not. But I want to work in the business again, and I want to work with you and Marianne. I’ll call her tomorrow morning and finalize the details.”

  He exhaled sharply. Grazie a Dio. The relief at having her agree to work with them was tremendous. It was probably foolish to push too hard, too soon, but he needed to know where they stood personally.

  He stepped close and hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. “How do you feel about getting involved with the boss?”

  She kept her chin lowered but slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. Her pupils dilated and a flush spread over her neck, up to her cheeks. After a few quick breaths, she said, “Will the boss feed me lunch every day?”

  The heat coloring her features jumped to him and set him off like a match. Picking her up in his arms, he checked to make sure Michy was still
asleep while carrying Sam to the bedroom. “Sugar, I’ll feed you breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a bedtime snack if you’ll let me.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the skin just below his ear. Whispering, she said, “I can live with that benefits package. You have yourself a deal.”

  Ten Months Later

  Over the next ten months, Sam and Kevin were on a slow and steady pace, especially where Michy was concerned. He spent most nights at their house, but with the exception of Saturday and Sunday mornings, he left before Michy woke.

  Friday nights were family movie night, complete with pizza and one beer. Saturday was family fun day, which always included Spencer. Sunday was the day of rest where they lay around the house and did absolutely nothing.

  Along with allowing him to stay overnight, Sam had also gotten comfortable with letting Kevin sleep in her room without moving to the sofa. He’d gotten used to waking up bright and early when Michy jumped into the middle of the bed with them.

  It was Thursday morning, so normally Kevin would be gone when Michy woke, but this morning, for some mysterious reason, she wandered into Sam’s room at four a.m.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie,” Sam asked, scooting closer to Kevin so Michy could crawl in next to her.

  “I want to sleep with you,” Michy said in a sleepy voice, then yawned widely.

  At five, Michy patted Sam’s hand to wake her again. “Mommy, will you help me make pancakes for Kevin this morning?”

  Pancakes? At five? On a Thursday? Sam yawned and stretched as much as she could without waking Kevin. “It’s Thursday. We don’t get pancakes except Saturday and Sunday.”

  “I know. But if we start making pancakes for him, maybe he won’t leave.”

  Behind her, Kevin stiffened and drew in a sharp intake of air, while Sam stopped breathing altogether. Whispering, to keep up the ruse of Kevin sleeping, she said, “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s only here on the days he makes pancakes. The other mornings he leaves before I get up, but if we make him pancakes, he might not leave.”