“I don’t think I’ll build from scratch. I’d like to restore a place, maybe. Do something like this.” He grinned. “Well, not exactly like this. This place is huge. I’d do something on a smaller scale.”
“I know what you mean.”
She thought she heard something in the shadows behind her and turned to look over her shoulder. All she saw was a bulky outline in the dark. “What is that? A guitar?”
He followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. I was playing a little for Dinah earlier.”
“I didn’t know you were the musical type.” But what did she know about him? A few puzzle pieces, a story here and there, not enough to put together the whole, complex person Damian Knight seemed to be. Her fingers tightened in his. She wanted to know more. Much more. “Would you play something for me?”
He paused. “Sure.” He took a long moment to drop her hand, then moved past her on the steps, and the warmth from his sleeve touched her bare arm. She shivered in the night air.
Damian took the guitar from its case and cradled it. Tuning, tweaking, he strummed a few chords and then began to play “Yesterday” by the Beatles. At first it was only instrumental melody, the strings of the guitar humming the poignant song. But after a minute he began to sing along. His voice was husky but certain, caressing the words as if he’d sung them a hundred times.
Summer leaned against the railing and watched him. The strong, thick fingers that usually wound themselves around a hammer now danced across the strings. The forehead that frowned all day in concentration smoothed. Damian sang, and when the song was over he played “Take It Easy” by the Eagles and sang again.
After the final chord he stopped. The music echoed across the grass, to the hills and back, and Summer let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“You’re good.” No one had ever sung to her before. Nerves along her spine stretched and splintered. Her heart, over-full with the night and the music and the man beside her, started to dance.
Damian cleared his throat. “I’m not that good.”
“Are you kidding? You’re amazing. I can’t believe I didn’t know you played. Do you ever write anything of your own?”
He turned toward her. The movement pressed his thigh against hers, and she thought for a minute he might kiss her. His gaze moved to her mouth and then to the place where the white skin of her breast met the vee of her sundress.
“Yes,” Damian said. “Sometimes I write my own songs.”
He repositioned the instrument, curved his fingers into place and began to play. The melody was simple, a sweet tune that rose and fell without lyrics. It reminded Summer of a butterfly in the morning, or dawn above the ocean. The notes dropped honey-like into an endless pool of longing. In the middle, it changed, became low and sensual with guttural chords that hovered and hung in the air. His shoulders hunched, and his arms tightened with intensity as he played on. A pause, and then the first melody returned, sweeter than the start, if that was possible. The sun coming out after a brilliant summer storm. A baby waking with a smile to a brand new day. It faded, grew, then faded again to nothing. With the final chord, the notes vanished into the night.
He hadn’t sung a single lyric, but he hadn’t needed to. Desire rang through every note.
“Oh, that was...” Summer couldn’t find the words. “...beautiful,” but that wasn’t enough to describe the passion or the complexity of the song.
“Thanks.”
“Does it have a title?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Summer’s Song.”
He set down the guitar, and this time Summer saw the kiss coming. She felt it, knew it, and wanted it with every part of her. He brushed his lips against hers, reached up with one hand to cup her cheek, and the step fell away beneath her. Sweet lightness flooded her stomach, her chest, her mouth. He pulled away, whispered her name, pressed his cheek to her temple and let her feel the pulse that raced there.
She reached for him, felt the smooth, strong muscles of his chest and drew him close. Kisses moved along her cheek, her chin, down to her collarbone, until she moaned with pleasure. He stroked the curve of her breast, and she shivered. Burying her fingers in his hair, she pulled Damian to her. Lips parted and tongues searched, until she could hardly tell where she ended and he began.
Inside her head, the days flipped backwards. She had come back to Whispering Pines wanting nothing, expecting nothing. Yet something—everything—had changed. First the house. Then dark memories. Then days of light and laughter, of Dinah and Hannah, of Rachael and Nate, strung together like stones on a string. Summer had never believed she might call Whispering Pines home again, but here she sat, wanting Damian’s touch, his kiss, his songs, more than she remembered wanting anything in her life. Maybe coming home didn’t mean going backwards, after all. Maybe it meant growing up, making new discoveries, learning to forgive the past and finding that the future held myriad possibilities.
Summer took Damian by the hand and led him inside.
HE TOOK HIS TIME PEELING her dress over her head and running his hands, then his lips, over her bare skin. “God, you’re beautiful.” He hadn’t been with a woman in so long, but he knew in an instant that he’d waited for the right one. Through the curtainless windows, moonlight streaked the sheets, the floor, the curve of her shoulder. He ran his fingertips from her chin to her waist and watched her shudder. He loved it. It emboldened him, made him a man possessed.
So many years it had been. Forever, really, since Damian had wanted a woman the way he wanted Summer Thompson.
She clutched at his back, her eyes dark with passion, and he surrendered. To lose himself inside her would be the sweetest way to end this day. To end every day. He met her tongue with his, drank her in, tasted wine and chocolate and want beneath it all. He brushed the hair from her forehead and studied the scars along her temple, reminders of the accident that had torn her life apart.
“I want to know everything about you,” he whispered, and she smiled.
“You sure about that?”
He nodded and kissed her again. He knew pain still coursed through her veins. He knew she still fought demons. They hung around her eyes and turned down the corners of her mouth from time to time. But there was none of that now, and he imagined there was no worry on his face as well. For once. She ran her fingers over his jaw, catching on the rough stubble, and all he saw in her gaze was want.
WHEN SUMMER WOKE, THE moon had crested in the sky. She rolled over and reached for Damian, but the sheets beside her were empty. She sat up. Something had woken her. Something out of place. A car backfiring? An animal rummaging in the bushes? She pulled the sheet to her shoulders, chilled despite the humid night air. She still wasn’t used to sleeping in the country, even though she’d grown up here. The sounds that stirred in the silence after sundown were so different from San Francisco.
The bathroom door clicked open. “You okay?” he asked as he emerged. “Thought maybe you were having a bad dream. You were moving around a lot.”
“I was?”
“And talking.” He slid back under the sheets. “You kept saying ‘No’.” He nuzzled her ear. “I was hoping you weren’t talking about me.”
“I doubt it.” I don’t think I’d ever say no to you. For any reason.
He stopped kissing her and sat up again. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Thought I heard something.”
She followed his gaze to the side yard. “Yeah, me too. The wind, maybe. Or ghosts.”
“You think this place is haunted?”
“No. I was kidding.” She ran her fingers along his arm. “I think we’re all haunted, in some way.”
He didn’t relax. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his shorts, tossed on the floor, and checked the time. “I should go home.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I know, but I don’t like to leave my mom and Dinah alone.”
“The
y’re fine. You’re a quarter-mile away. And I know your mom always double-checks the locks before she goes to bed.” She whispered the words along his chest and let her hands drift below the sheets.
“I guess you’re right.” He bent his head to catch her mouth again, and she looped one leg over his. Her skin burned in all the places he touched it.
Close to dawn, a cell phone rang.
Summer reached in the direction of the bed stand. She wasn’t used to having furniture in this room. Heck, she wasn’t used to this room, period.
“It’s mine,” Damian said and leaned down to answer it. “Hello? What? Mom, wait—” Panic filled his voice. “How?” He sat up and threw off the sheet. “What did he say? Are the police there? All right, I’m coming home right now.”
“What is it? What happened?” Summer stared as Damian pulled on his clothes. His shirt ended up inside out.
“T.J. was at the house.” His voice shook. “He took Dinah.”
“Wait—what? How?”
“I told you.” He grabbed his shoes and stumbled as he headed for the door. Summer still hadn’t managed to crawl to her feet or find her clothes. “I told you I heard something last night.” His voice broke. “I told you I needed to be at home with them.” He punched the door frame. “I never should have stayed here.”
The words sliced through her.
“But I don’t understand how he found them. I didn’t think he was anywhere around here.”
Damian didn’t answer. Her stomach turned over, wanting him, wanting to help him and not knowing how.
“Let me do something.” She found a T-shirt and shorts and pulled them on with shaking hands. “Let me come with you.” She reached for Damian’s arm, but he pulled away as if she’d burned him.
“Theo James Braxton, I’ll kill you when I find you. I swear to God.”
“Wait—what did you—”
“I knew it,” he said, before she could finish the thought. “I knew he’d find us.” His expression turned dark. “You said it was nothing to worry about. You told me to stay.”
“Did you say Theo James?” Something clicked inside Summer’s head, and nausea washed over her.
You know the way to County Route 78?
I’m lookin’ for an address. Old buddy of mine.
Name’s Theo.
She didn’t want to ask. “He isn’t...like six feet or so, muscular, greasy dark hair? Grayish eyes?”
Damian stared at her. “Yeah.” His voice was flat. “Why?”
“I think maybe he was downtown yesterday. Outside Flo’s.” Suddenly she felt like Alice in a black, black wonderland, with everything she thought she knew turned upside down. “He asked me for directions to Red Barn Road.”
Damian froze. Still as stone, his mouth twisted in anguish, he waited as she stammered on.
“I didn’t think...I mean...”
“You told him where we live?” His eyes changed from sky blue to almost black.
“No. He said he was looking for a friend.” Repeating Theo’s explanation out loud sounded even more ridiculous than she could have imagined. “I didn’t know who he was.” Damian couldn’t be blaming her for this. Could he? “Damian, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Let me come with you. Let me help.”
“No. Just stay here.” His face was as empty as his voice. “You’ve done enough.”
He yanked open the front door and took the porch steps two at a time. At the bottom, he broke into a run, heading through the trees toward the farmhouse as fast as he could. He didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Summer stood on the porch steps, stunned. Minutes passed. She could barely process what had just happened. Dinah—gone. Hannah—betrayed. Damian—furious, and with good reason.
Her stomach turned over, and for a minute she thought she might throw up. She stared out across the back yard. T.J., or Theo, or whatever his stupid name was, had taken Dinah. He’d broken into the house on the other side of the trees and kidnapped a child. And she’d given him directions to the front door. Then told Damian not to worry when he heard a noise. She thought she might throw up. This is my fault. She pressed her palms to the porch and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Do you like my brother?” Dinah’s voice echoed in her head.
“How much do you like Gabe?” Donny used to ask her. “Do you like him? Or really, really like him?”
She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. They sounded so much alike, more than she’d ever realized. Again she saw Donny in the back seat of the car. Then Dinah dancing in a circle under the oak trees. Donny teasing her with a garter snake. Dinah handing her a bouquet of flowers. Their two voices whispered inside her head, over and over again, until another voice rose above them and the memory shifted yet again.
“Let me drive.”
“You can’t. You don’t have your license.”
“But you’ve been drinking.”
“Only one beer. Maybe two.”
He laughed, and in that moment she thought she’d probably let him do whatever he wanted.
“No, I’ll drive.”
“You’ll get in trouble.”
“It’s only five miles. And it’s clear. See? Full moon. Lots of stars.”
He kissed her in the front yard, with the party in full swing, in front of her brother, until Donny made gagging noises and pleaded for them to stop. Summer didn’t care. She wanted to kiss Gabe—love him, breathe him in—for the rest of the night.
“Let’s go.”
“Okay. But be careful.”
“I will...”
Summer’s eyes flew open. She’d never remembered that part of the night. Never. Her mind had always stuck on the minutes just before and after the accident. It had never rewound far enough for her to see any earlier.
Until now.
Now she remembered everything about the accident. Everything about the crash, Donny’s death, the whole amazing loss of that night, and it wasn’t Gabe’s fault at all.
“It was mine.”
DAMIAN RAN DOWN THE path as fast as he could. He gagged and a single string of saliva escaped his lips. His heart hammered so loudly he thought it might explode. T.J. found us. He took Dinah. It’s my fault.
Like a rhythm, the words beat a terrible staccato against his skull. A branch caught him across the cheek, drawing blood, but he barely noticed. Moments later, he burst from the trees where the path met the driveway of the farmhouse. A police officer stood on the porch, one hand on his holster.
“Whoa! Hold it right there.”
Damian froze, hands in the air. Gravel sprayed around him as he slid to a stop. For a minute, he couldn’t catch his breath. “I’m Damian Knight. Hannah’s son. Dinah’s my sister.”
The officer eyed him but kept his hand on his gun. “Let’s see some ID.”
Damian reached for his wallet with shaking fingers. It fell to the ground. He scooped it up and pulled out a dog-eared license.
“Slowly.” The officer beckoned Damian forward.
He climbed the steps. “Please. You gotta tell me what’s going on with my sister.”
The officer took an eternity to read his license before handing it back. “I’m Officer Burdick.” He shook Damian’s hand and with the other pushed the door open behind him. “My partner’s inside taking your mother’s statement.”
“How is she?”
“Holding up.”
“And Dinah?” He almost couldn’t ask, didn’t want to hear the response.
“We’ve issued an Amber Alert and closed the roads out of town.”
“Mom?” Damian barreled down the hallway. Every lamp in the house burned. In the living room, an end table lay on its side, with magazines scattered across the carpet. Broken glass crunched under his feet.
The last three years, all he’d worried about was this, T.J. tracing them to Whispering Pines and hurting his mother and sister. He’d been so careful. He’d locked the doors and lain awake at night tense with liste
ning. He’d warned his mother again and again. Yet somehow T.J. had broken through the cracks of their life anyway.
Hannah sat at the kitchen table with another police officer opposite her. He looked to be twenty-five at the most, and Damian wondered what kind of experience he had. Writing a few traffic tickets? Checking for underage drinkers at the town bars? Damian couldn’t imagine anyone in Whispering Pines was equipped to deal with a kidnapping. He sure wasn’t.
The guy stood and offered his hand. He spoke in the same clipped tone as his partner on the porch. “Evenin’, sir. My name’s Officer Wallace.”
Damian didn’t answer. “Mom? Are you okay?” He hugged Hannah’s thin shoulders and tried to stop them from shaking. A crumpled tissue in her hands twirled around her fingers until it shredded and fell to her lap. Her left cheek, red and swollen, was beginning to purple. Tears tracked a path to her chin and dripped off onto the table.
Damian forced himself to pull open a drawer and find a frayed towel. He dumped some ice cubes into it and wrapped it closed at both ends, the way he had so many times in the past. I’m going to be sick. Frightened, he leaned down and stared into the depths of her gaze. He held the towel to her bruised cheek and stroked the back of her hair with one hand.
“Mom? I’m right here.”
After a long minute, Hannah blinked, and her eyes readjusted to the light. Her head leaned into his touch, seeking comfort. “Damian.” With an unsteady hand, she reached up and took the makeshift ice pack from him.
“She hasn’t said too much since we arrived,” Officer Wallace began, “but she was able to give me a brief statement.” He flipped the pages of a small spiral notebook. “She was in the kitchen washing dishes when she heard something out in back of the house...” He frowned at the notepad. “When she looked out the window, she saw the suspect. She attempted to secure the door—”
“It was unlocked?” How many times had he told his mother to keep the deadbolt fastened? Not that it mattered. T.J. could have broken it off with one hand.
Second Chance Summer Page 16
