Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10

by Linda Winfree

  Surely he’d realize she could never want anyone but him.

  “I wasn’t crazy about the ending.” The conversation between Amy’s partner Madeline and a Chandler County sheriff’s investigator infiltrated Amy’s consciousness. The two seemed to be relatively friendly acquaintances and had spent the morning chatting about books and films. Amy had listened at times, in spits and spurts, hoping to be distracted from obsessing about whether or not her marriage was over.

  It hadn’t worked.

  “I think it’s like The Sixth Sense ending. Enough clues that I should have figured it out before the climax.” The investigator tucked a piece of gum in his mouth.

  Madeline caught Amy’s gaze. “Did you see it, Bennett?”

  Amy blinked. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. What movie?”

  The door to the grand-jury room swung open before Madeline could reply. The bailiff nodded at the small group of potential witnesses. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to break for lunch. Please be back by one fifteen.”

  “Great. I’m starved.” Madeline stood and brushed dust from her slacks. “Bennett, the Bistro or the diner across the street?”

  “I don’t care.” Like she’d be able to eat anyway. Amy had tried to choke down a bagel that morning, but her throat had been too tight with fear, too scratchy from last night’s tears. After he’d admitted their marriage really might be in trouble, they’d driven home in silence. Nothing had been said once they’d arrived home, either. Just like a hundred other nights, Rob had retreated to the couch in the living room while she went to bed alone. He’d been gone by the time she’d awakened.

  The investigator tapped out a text and glanced up from his phone. “I’m meeting Tick at the diner. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Hey, yeah, Bennett.” Madeline nudged Amy’s shoulder as they started down the stairs. “He’s the lead investigator for Chandler County, and it’s your husband’s first day, right? Maybe you’ll catch the scuttle on how it’s going.”

  “That would be great.” Amy tried to smile, knowing the feeble attempt probably looked more like a pained grimace. She shouldn’t have to rely on office scuttle to inform her of Rob’s day. A hint of pique twisted through her. Why couldn’t he talk this out with her?

  “Have I introduced you two?” Madeline gestured between Amy and the investigator as they reached the ground floor. “Bennett, Mark Cook. Cookie, Agent Amy Bennett. We’ve been partnered, what? A month now.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Y’all just hired her husband on.”

  Cook fixed Madeline with an ironic look. “No, I never realized that.”

  Madeline laughed. “Kiss my ass, Cook.”

  Amy followed the other two into the bright sunlight outside. Oppressive heat instantly wrapped her in a wet, woolen blanket. Sucking in as deep a breath as the humidity would allow, Amy swiped a finger across her phone screen and brought up an empty text message. With one hand, she typed out a quick message to Rob, asking about his lunch plans, telling him where she was. She hesitated, then typed before she could change her mind.

  I’d like to see you. I love you.

  She sent the message and hurried to catch up to the others. Near the diner’s doorway, Madeline and Cook chatted with a dark-haired plainclothes cop.

  “…telling you, I wouldn’t have blamed the guy for beating the living shit out of him.” The tall cop tugged a hand through his hair. “I’m still not sure I did the right thing sending him back out on the road, but when he told me why, I kind of got it. I’d have been pissed as hell too, and the kid held it together. I’ve got a call in to the GSP Post commander.”

  Amy tapped Madeline’s shoulder. “I’m going to wash up.”

  Inside, the diner was blessedly cool but noisy with chatter and heavy with the aroma of hot grease. Amy ducked down the short hallway to the ladies’ room. She passed a hand over her phone, which lay silent and still in her pocket. Maybe he was busy.

  Her eyes burned, and she met her shiny gaze in the mirror. Red tear blotches bloomed on her nose and cheeks.

  “Who are you kidding?” she whispered. “He’s not going to answer you.”

  She turned on the water and splashed her wrists, cheeks and eyes. She needed a plan. Find him after work, take him somewhere for dinner that offered a modicum of privacy yet ensured he’d have to tune in to them. That could work, except every time she tried to get him out of the house lately, he cried off, claiming fatigue. Getting him to go to dinner the night before had taken everything but an Act of Congress.

  And look how well that had turned out.

  After drying her hands and face with a rough paper towel, she stepped out.

  “Amy.” Jake pushed away from the wall where he’d been leaning and touched her arm. “We need to talk.”

  Was he serious? Amy shook off his gentle hand. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “I tried to talk to Rob earlier.”

  “What?” The remnants of that overheard conversation between the two cops outside rose in her mind, and she groaned. They’d been talking about Jake and Rob. Oh, Lord help us, not on his first day.

  “All I did was show up as backup on a traffic stop.” Jake rested his hands at his hips. “Tried to talk to him, and he went ballistic.”

  “Rob went ballistic. Right.” Cool, calm, always collected Rob. He’d even been that cool last night.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Urgency colored Jake’s tone. He curved his hands around her shoulders. “Listen, Amy, we have to talk about us—”

  “There is no us.” She shrugged him off, looking beyond his shoulder at the diner, crowded with lunchtime patrons, including her partner and two of Rob’s new coworkers. She could take him if she had to, and she wasn’t above yelling for help. One thing was for damn sure—she wouldn’t give him another opportunity to get close enough to touch. “I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be our friend. You were one of Rob’s groomsmen at our wedding—”

  “I don’t want to be your friend.” Jake’s mouth twisted. “I want to be more. I can be what you want, give you what you want. Rob can’t do that.”

  She wasn’t going to dignify that with a reply, and she wasn’t going to stand there and listen to him any longer. The black dots of fury danced before her eyes, and she shouldered past him. She swung the diner door open harder than necessary, the summer heat outside no match for the fiery anger swirling through her.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she snatched it free. Rob’s photo and number glowed on the screen, and she swiped to answer, her hands shaky. “Hello?”

  “Hey. Got your text.” Rob’s voice was terse. A radio squawked in the background.

  “I really need to see you.” Tears trembled on her lashes, and her heart thudded a wild rhythm, a combination of that crazy confrontation with Jake and finally, finally hearing Rob’s voice. “We need to talk about this.”

  “Yeah.” Could one syllable be any shorter? He cleared his throat. “Later. I’ll be home tonight.”

  *

  The way she looked at him made him itch. Blake ignored the trickle of sweat along his spine and the sun beating against his bare back. Too bad ignoring Montgomery Farr’s cool perusal wasn’t so easy. He was in and out of her house constantly because of his friendship with her younger sister, and after more than three years of hanging out with Ellis, Montgomery shouldn’t make him nervous and shivery and tongue-tied.

  Darn if she didn’t, though.

  He drove the last nail home with two hard whacks and rocked back on his heels. Grimacing, he scrubbed his wrist across his sweaty brow, shoving his bangs away from his eyes as he did so. Should have brought a cap today. Pushing to his feet, he dropped his hammer in its spot on his worn tool belt, the one that had belonged to the grandfather he never knew. Carefully, he picked his way across the roof’s steep incline to where the ladder waited. Again, intense awareness that Montgomery rested against the sawhorses, watchin
g him, prickled over him.

  Aluminum clanged as he clambered down the ladder. Shade from the porch enveloped him in cool relief once he reached the ground. He jerked his chin at Montgomery in silent greeting and walked by her to the cooler. Icy cold shocked his hand when he plunged it in, seeking a bottled water. He cast a glance over his shoulder at her and lifted the bottle. “Want one?”

  “I’m good.” She hefted the half-full container. Her serene blue gaze slid over him once more, then narrowed slightly, as if he annoyed her. What was with that, anyway? They’d barely had two conversations during this repair blitz.

  He tucked the bottle cap in his pocket and poured cold heaven into his mouth. He closed his eyes. Man, that was good—

  “Blake Calvert, when are you finally going to ask me out?”

  He choked. Icy water burned his nasal passages, spurted from his nose. Harsh coughs seized his chest. He straightened best he could, eyes watering, and met Montgomery’s irritated gaze. “Do what?”

  She rested a hand on one gently curved hip and lifted that gorgeous blue gaze heavenward. “I asked when you were going to finally ask me out.”

  Was she joking or serious? He swallowed, throat still raw, and lifted the bottle for another swig, buying time. She had to be joking. He could handle that, could play things that way. He rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Am I supposed to?”

  Her eyes went wide, and he caught a glimmer of tears before she spun to stalk away, dark brown hair a shining sheet down her back.

  Oh, frick. She’d been serious. She’d been serious and he’d screwed that up for sure.

  His half-empty bottle hit the grass. “Montgomery, wait up.”

  She kept going, long strides carrying her toward the vehicles parked on the street.

  “Wait.” He broke into a jog, reaching for her arm as he caught up to her. He tugged her around to face him. Defiant blue eyes glittered up at him, and he cast about for the right words. Holy heaven, her skin was soft against his palm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.” She twisted her arm, trying to break his hold. “So am I.”

  “I mean it.” He didn’t let go but pulled her toward him. Heat radiated off her tanned skin, intense awareness shivering over him. Oh man, that smell—sunscreen and summer, something a little alluring and sheer Montgomery—and this was why he hadn’t let himself get too close to her, ever, because if he did, he was going to want more, want everything, and holy frick, that was dangerous. She was dangerous. He licked his bottom lip. “I thought you were joking.”

  “Sure. Right.” She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze trained on his throat, and her voice trembled under the attitude. “Like I’d joke about something I’ve wanted two freaking years.”

  Thank You, Lord. He slid his hold to her wrist, shifted her nearer to him. With his other hand, he tipped her chin up so he could look into those gorgeous eyes. He half-grinned, one corner of his mouth hitching. “What took you so long to say something, then?”

  To his intense relief, teasing laughter replaced the damp shine of tears. She poked a finger into his chest. “Because I thought sooner or later, you’d figure it out on your own. You’re an engineering major. You’re supposed to be good at putting things together.”

  “You’re an art major.” He liked having her this close to him, liked the way she seemed to curve into his body, not quite touching but heating him all over. “You’re supposed to paint me a picture.”

  She slid that maddening fingertip down the center of his chest, his skin tingling in her wake. “So are you going to ask me out?”

  He dared to trail a knuckle down her jaw. “So, Montgomery, you want to go out with me some time?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Tonight.”

  “We could do that…” He swallowed a groan as a promise hastily given tugged at him. Darn it. He dropped his hand from her face and shoved his bangs away from his forehead. “I’m supposed to have dinner with some friends from high school. I promised.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment flickered across her features.

  “You could come with me. I don’t think they’d mind.” The words spilled from his mouth. What was he thinking? Montgomery Farr, with Zeke and Brittany, with Mike and his anonymous girl-of-the-moment? He was screwed.

  “It’s not about your friends.” She pulled him from the momentary panic. Her eyes on his, she pressed nearer. “It’s about you. I just want to be with you, Blake, and I’ve waited long enough. Okay?”

  He nodded, giving into an irresistible smile. “Okay.”

  She bit her bottom lip, but the action didn’t hide her wide grin. “What time should I be ready?”

  “Seven.” He suppressed a wince at the memory of the last dinner he’d gone to at Zeke and Britt’s. “And dress real casual.”

  *

  Amy stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Early-evening sunlight peeked through the shades on their bedroom windows. A huge leaden lump of dread still occupied her stomach, but at least the shower had let her wash away some of the day’s stickiness. She walked into the bedroom, feet sinking into the carpet, and startled. “Oh, hey.”

  Rob stood at his dresser, stripping his gear from his belt. He glanced around at her. “Hey.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” She touched a finger to the base of her throat. Stupid to feel exposed and uncomfortable like this. He’d seen her in less than a towel, for heaven’s sake. Except the man before her, head bent over the task at hand, seemed more like a stranger.

  A stranger she hadn’t even realized had taken her husband’s place.

  “I’ve only been here a few minutes.” Lamplight glimmered off the strands of sun-lightened gold in his brown hair.

  She perched on the edge of their bed. Getting dressed beckoned, but that meant getting naked first. Somehow, that seemed wrong. “How was your day?”

  He made a strangled sound in his throat. “Okay.”

  Okay? She fiddled with the edge of the towel and swallowed hard. “I know about you and Jake today.”

  He lowered his head, shoulders slumping for a second before tightening. “Yeah?”

  “Are you all right?” She hated the tentative note in her voice. “What exactly happened?”

  “Apparently, Jake thinks I should let you go to be with a real man like him.” He jerked the top drawer open, dropped his keys and wallet into the basket there, and slammed it shut. “Do we really have to talk about him right now?”

  “No.” She tucked one foot behind her ankle and wished the lump in her gut would go away. While she was at it, she wished the last six months, with all their disappointment and stress, had never happened and they could simply be who they used to be. She wanted them back on track, executing the plan and setting up the next steps of their lives. She couldn’t stand this holding pattern. “But we really have to talk right now.”

  “I know.” He spun to lean against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t… I don’t know what to talk about.”

  “I know.” She wanted to laugh it off, make a joke about it, but the whole situation was so unfunny that she needed to cry. She, who hardly ever cried. She eyed the muscles in his arms, outlined by the smooth white cotton pulled taut by his stance. A year ago, she’d have tossed the towel aside and climbed all over him, pulled him down to her so she could have that lean strength all over her. “How did we get like this?”

  He lifted his hands and let them fall, but didn’t say anything.

  “We have to do something, Rob. We can’t just…keep going.”

  “I think that’s why we’re where we are.”

  A sudden, horrifying thought slipped through her brain. “You don’t want a divorce, do you?”

  “No.” He scowled. “Do you?”

  “No!” She hooked her hair behind her ear. Simply thinking about it made her stomach hurt. She sought for humor to cover the fear. “I am not telling my mother I’m getting a divorce.”

  He laughed, an honest-to
-goodness laugh, like the Rob she’d married. “That’s what you’re worried about? Telling your mother we’re splitting up?”

  “We’re not splitting up. We agreed on that. But my mother adores you… She’d keep you and disown me.”

  “She might. And I know your sister would.” Humor lit his face for a moment before uncertainty darkened his expression once more. “I really don’t know what to do here, Amy.”

  “I think we’re going to have to figure it out together.” She tightened the towel’s knot and tried to put on a bright smile. “At least we know we’re on the same page about staying together. So, um, we should do dinner together or something. We haven’t been doing that a lot lately. Do you want to go out somewhere? We haven’t tried any of the local places.”

  “Not really.” He didn’t look at her, but toed out of his shoes and set them in the closet. “I’m kind of tired.”

  “Why don’t you grab a shower, then, and I’ll see what we have in the kitchen.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He moved by her to the bathroom, and she closed her eyes on a relieved breath. Seconds later, water started in the shower. After a long moment, she moved to dress and headed for the kitchen. With the problem of food, she actually knew where to start.

  *

  Blake rapped on Montgomery’s hotel room door and waited. He fidgeted with the strip of braided leather tied about his wrist, ran his thumb over the sterling oval bound to it. Anticipation and apprehension warred within him.

  The door swung inward, and Montgomery greeted him with her trademark smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” His gaze skittered over her, taking in the white strapless top that revealed golden shoulders, brief khaki shorts that showcased long tanned legs, and even the gold thong sandals that flattered her pretty feet. “You look great.”

  “You said real casual.” She stepped onto the sidewalk, and the door closed with a thud. “I figured this was it.”

  “Yeah, but you make real casual look real good.” He scrubbed a hand over his nape.

  “You are so sweet.” She swayed into him and kissed his cheek. With her arm tucked into his, she stroked her fingertips along his forearm. “Are we ready to go?”