by Gina Wilkins
“And if it ends in regret? Heartache?”
Walt clapped his right hand on Adam’s back. “Then maybe I’ll be the one who ends up brooding in a dark bar. It’s all part of living, my friend. Not the best part, but it is what it is.”
“I hate that saying,” Adam grumbled.
Laughing softly, Walt ambled away, leaving Adam to stew. Maybe—just maybe—Walt had been right about a few things.
It might all end in flames, but I won’t know unless I try.
Adam had never doubted that Walt was a courageous, resilient man. A hero—a word Adam had certainly never applied to himself. But maybe—just maybe—it was time he tried to find some of that fortitude for his own sake. After all, he’d never know if he could do it unless he tried.
Of course, his wasn’t the only happiness he’d be risking this time. And he realized that for once, his greatest fear wasn’t for himself—but for Simon and Joanna, both of whom had somehow become entirely too important to him for his peace of mind.
* * *
IT WAS LATE when Walt knocked on Maddie’s door, but he’d called first, so she was expecting him. After flipping through the clothes she’d hastily packed for this impromptu vacation, she’d chosen a body-hugging summer dress in a deep royal blue she knew was flattering. She’d left her sparkly-nailed feet bare and her hair tousled rather than sleek, applying only enough makeup to highlight her eyes and adding a clear gloss to her lips. Sexy but not trying too hard, she decided as she gave herself a once-over in the mirror before answering the door.
He smiled approvingly when she let him into the sitting room of her small suite. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you.” He looked damned good himself, in a pale blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt with gray chinos. The shirt was long-sleeved, like the others she’d seen him wear, but turned back to forearm-length, revealing a bit more of the skin-toned prosthetic.
She was curious about his condition, of course. She wondered how the arm was attached, and if he ever used alternate prosthetics, but his missing hand didn’t make him any less attractive to her. Walter Becker couldn’t have been more different from the men she usually dated, but something about the way he looked at her made her toes curl. She had a feeling he tackled everything he did with that same intense concentration—and the possibilities were quite stimulating.
She motioned toward the couch, and the open bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table beside a bowl of fruit. “I could make coffee, if you prefer. The suite comes stocked with a pretty impressive selection.”
“The wine looks good. Just a glass, though. I had half a beer earlier. With Adam,” he added.
She paused with one glass half-filled. “Adam? Is he back at the resort?”
“No. I tracked him down. He didn’t go far. He’ll probably be back in a couple of hours, if not sooner.” Walt accepted the wine and watched as she poured another for herself.
She sank onto the couch, patting the cushion beside her. He settled close enough to keep her pulse rate elevated, though she tried to focus on the conversation. “Why did you go to him? Was it to discuss the arrangements for Simon?”
“Not really. Most of that is already settled. I went as a friend. Wanted to make sure he’s okay. And to tell him he’s an idiot.”
“I might have told him a few other things,” Maddie said darkly into her wineglass.
She couldn’t help remembering the look in her sister’s eyes when she’d heard about Adam’s impersonal message about anonymous child support. Joanna had made an effort to mask her feelings, but Maddie knew her sister too well to be fooled. She’d seen beneath the impassive expression to the disappointment that throbbed beneath it.
“Adam’s hurting, Maddie.”
His choice, she wanted to retort, but she bit the words back. Walt was worried about his friend. And he knew Adam a lot better than she did. She, of course, was entirely on her sister’s side, even though she was well aware that Joanna had her own flaws and insecurities. Despite the prim and proper exterior their parents had trained her to show, Joanna was only human.
All in all, it was probably best if she and Walt just didn’t discuss them. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight they could focus on themselves. On the electricity that seemed to pop and sizzle in the air whenever his laser-focused dark eyes met hers. She curled her legs beside her and half turned toward him, smiling over the rim of her wineglass. “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
He seemed willing to comply, though she sensed he was still uncertain about her. Fair enough.
They chatted easily for the next hour, talking about their work, sharing law school stories, comparing favorite music, movies and book genres. She confided her passion for sci-fi, and he admitted to being a lifelong comic book aficionado, a common bond except for their rather passionate preferences for rival publishers. That led to another spirited but friendly debate.
Draining her glass, Maddie set it aside and tossed her head. “We’ll just agree to agree—that you’re wrong.”
He chuckled and reached out to stroke away a strand of hair that had stuck to her cheek. “You do love a good fight, don’t you?”
Enjoying his touch on her face, she batted her eyes. “Of course. That’s why I went into criminal law rather than private practice. Bankruptcies and divorces and personal injury settlements would bore me to tears.”
He twirled that wayward red strand slowly around one finger. “Your employers are okay with the fire engine hair?”
“No one’s ever said different. I think they figure it keeps the opposition distracted. But whatever. I like it.”
He met her eyes with a look that melted her insides. “So do I.”
Maddie walked her fingers slowly up his chest to trace the shallow dip in his chin. She was pretty sure he’d shaved earlier that evening, but she could already feel the slight roughness of beard. Nice.
He slid his hand to the back of her head, holding her in place as he lowered his face. “I have been wanting to do this since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he confessed in a growl.
With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know you have.”
His own laugh was muffled in a hard kiss.
Oh, yeah. Kissing Walt was just as exhilarating as she’d predicted. And he gave it every bit of the energy and effort she’d expected.
He was very, very good with that one functional hand. With that firm, confident mouth. A few sweeps of his tongue had her quivering. A shift of his weight had her sprawled half beneath him, her arms locked around him, her dress hiked up around her thighs.
He kissed her throat, the hollow behind her ear, the curve of her breast. She nipped his chin, his ear, everywhere she could reach, enjoying every groan she pulled from him, every ragged breath he drew.
This was one fine, sexy sergeant.
She almost growled in frustration when he suddenly stilled and drew back. “What?”
His eyes stormy, his hard-carved face flushed, he ran his hand over his hair and pushed himself to his feet. “I should go.”
Without standing, she leaned back and tilted her head at him, trying to figure out this change in his mood. “Why?” she asked.
He grimaced. “It’s complicated. I’m Adam’s friend. His attorney.”
“This has nothing to do with my sister or your friend,” she said flatly. “If you’re implying again that I have some ulterior motive for wanting to be with you, then you are very, very wrong.”
“I didn’t say that.” He had the grace to look embarrassed by the suggestion.
She nodded, keeping her tone even, her expression schooled as she drawled, “It’s personal, then. Should I be insulted?”
“Hardly.”
“So?”
Walt released a gusty sigh. “Look, Maddie,
we just met. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m flattered, but I’m too old for one-night stands. Not that I’m suggesting—I mean, there’s nothing wrong with—Anyway.”
She was torn between irritation and amusement. She suspected it wasn’t like Walt to be so awkward and tongue-tied. She decided to be flattered rather than insulted. “I’m not really into one-night-stands myself these days, Sarge. I’m just not the type who needs a lot of time to know what I want. Or to skirt around the edges when I could be finding out for certain if there’s a chance it might be the real thing. If you’re not interested in that, say so and I’ll back off. No hard feelings. We can even be civil, though I won’t promise we’ll be pals.”
She had no desire to be platonic friends with appealing Walt Becker. As for her other desires—well, she thought she’d made those clear enough. Still, she supposed she could be patient with him taking a bit more time—as long as he acknowledged there could be something lasting between them.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” he muttered. “Just that I can’t see it going anywhere. I mean, you’re young and gorgeous and fun and, well...you. And I’m—”
She rose then, placing her fingers over his mouth before he made even more of a mess of this conversation. “You’re a strong, fascinating man with an intriguing history and layers I can’t wait to explore. I happen to prefer a man who is seasoned and mature. And before you tick me off by implying I’m so flighty and irresponsible that you can’t trust me not to toy with you and then take off in pursuit of some slick plastic surgeon, I think you should go now.”
“I didn’t—”
She rose on her tiptoes, clutching his shirt. “Just so you’ll know what you’re missing...” she murmured, and then kissed him until she fancied smoke came out of his ears. She could almost feel it escaping her own when she finally drew back, making no effort to mask her arousal. “Good night, Walt.”
He blinked dazedly. “Uh—”
Still smiling, she opened the door and all but pushed him out of it. “Sweet dreams, Sarge.”
She heard his curse through the door when she closed it between them, which made her laugh again. And then groan when she conceded that he wasn’t the only one left with an aching awareness of how the night could have ended.
* * *
THE PAINFUL EMOTIONS Joanna had been suppressing broke through the surface with a vengeance in the middle of that night.
She was awakened from a restless sleep by a call from her son from the other room. Blearily noting the time was just after 2:00 a.m., she stumbled into his doorway. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you have a bad dream?”
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I’m really thirsty. Can I have some water?”
“Of course. Just a second.” Clearing her head, she filled a glass for him and returned to sit on the side of his bed. Illuminated by the soft glow of a night-light, he drank with noisy gulps while she watched with an indulgent smile. He really had been thirsty.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he said, handing her the glass while he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.
Her throat tightened for a moment. He rarely called her Mommy these days, having decided a few months earlier that “Mom” sounded much more grown up. She tried to savor each of these precious, fleeting moments while they lasted. “You’re welcome.”
He decided he should probably go to the bathroom while he was awake, and she promised to wait to tuck him back in. She smoothed his sheets while he was gone, having the bed ready by the time she heard a flush followed by running water. Simon’s hands were still damp when he hugged her as she nestled him back into the big bed, but she didn’t mind the cold feel of them on her neck. She kissed his cheek and pulled the sheet to his chin. “All set?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He sounded sleepy, but she knew from experience that it would take him a few moments to settle down. “Tomorrow’s our last all-day here, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She kept her voice soft as she stroked his hair. “We’ll make the most of it. We’ll swim and play on the beach and look for more shells, and you can have a shrimp basket for lunch.”
“That sounds like fun.” His eyes were already half-closed. “Can I show Mr. Adam my starfish?”
A pang ripped through her, and she had to swallow before she could speak. “I don’t know if we’ll see Mr. Adam tomorrow, Simon. It’s the weekend, you know. I’m not sure he works on weekends. But Aunt Maddie will be here with us all day, and she’s going to want you to show her everything she hasn’t seen yet. Maybe you’d like to play minigolf with her? Or paddle boats on the lake?”
Simon’s eyelids had flown open. “But we can see Mr. Adam before we leave, can’t we, Mom? I don’t want to go without telling him goodbye.”
Her chest ached. She didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep. If Adam had decided to relinquish parental rights, maybe it was best to start putting distance between him and Simon now, before Simon grew more attached. Before she grew more attached, despite her anger with him. “Mr. Adam isn’t a fan of goodbyes, sweetheart. If you don’t see him again, we’ll just remember how much fun you had with him, okay? I took lots of pictures at the fun center. You can look at them anytime you want.”
“It’s not the same,” he said, his lip quivering.
“No,” she agreed, lowering her voice to a soothing murmur. “It’s not the same. But happy memories are always the best souvenirs we take home from vacations. Every time you look back on this week, you can think of the fun you had while we were here. All the new friends you made and the things you learned. All the sand castles we built and the pretty shells we found. The good food we ate and the games we played. The sun and seagulls and the boat ride and the funny dolphins...”
She let the singsong words trail off into a whisper and then into silence when she saw that Simon had fallen asleep. His breathing was deep and even, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks. She thought the slightest frown still creased his forehead, but then he snuggled more deeply into the pillow, and his sweet face smoothed into blissful repose.
Careful not to jostle him, she stood, waiting there a moment to make sure he didn’t rouse, then turned to slip silently out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She moved into her own room, then spent the next twenty minutes trying to hold back the tears she was afraid to release for fear of drowning in them.
Despite the occasional wistful sniffle, she’d never allowed herself to cry over Adam. She’d always told herself it would be foolish to grieve for a relationship that had never existed. Sure, there’d been the odd bout of tears during her pregnancy, but she’d written those off to nerves and hormones. Certainly not to missing the man she’d known for such a short time.
She wouldn’t cry now, though she had to dash impatiently at her eyes several times to put a stop to it. But it hurt. It hurt deeply that he seemed to be walking away again, even knowing everything now. He couldn’t claim ignorance this time, though he probably thought he was being noble again, acting in her and Simon’s best interests. That argument was even more groundless now than it had been before, though she wasn’t sure she could convince him of that even if he gave her the chance to try. He was so convinced he was destined to be alone, even to the point of believing it was what he wanted.
Maybe it was just as well, she told herself with a defiant lift of her chin. Maybe it was for the best that she’d been forced to confront the reality of trying to build a relationship, even a tenuous, long-distance one, with a man who wouldn’t make even the most basic commitment. Oh, he’d signed papers and set up accounts, made financial promises he would probably keep—but that was easy. Detached, impersonal, no emotional investment or risk involved. A way to assuage his conscience without limiting his freedom to take off whenever he wanted without any of those messy goodbyes.
She’d tried, she assured herself. She’d been willing to work wit
h him. To share the child she’d carried, nursed, taught, protected, loved with every fiber of her being. She’d been cautiously ready to trust him. And he’d shown her just how much pain and disappointment she courted—for herself and for Simon—in giving that trust to a man who wasn’t willing to accept it.
Fine. If this was what he wanted, so be it. She could accept that she’d done all she could to make up for the mistakes she’d made six years ago. She wouldn’t chase him, wouldn’t make any demands. Someday she would figure out how to tell Simon about him, but for now, they were perfectly fine without Adam Scott in their lives.
She just wished this psychologist knew how to heal her own heartache.
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED with rain. Simon was dismayed at first, certain their last full day at the resort was ruined. He was reassured when Joanna checked the weather app on her phone and told him the rain was predicted to pass very quickly, probably in less than an hour.
“We’ll have a great time, I promise,” she said, determined not to let the weather or Adam or anything else interfere with this vacation with her son. Soon enough, they’d have to face the demands of a move, new job, new school, making a new life, new friends in a new town—but this week was a celebration of their little family. Their two-member immediate family, she silently amended even as she sent him to dress for a day of fun.
Maddie joined them for breakfast. The rain splashed soothingly against the windows as they ate and chatted, surrounded by other vacationers waiting for the sun’s return. Simon didn’t mention Adam, and neither did Joanna or Maddie. Still, Joanna had the feeling that his name hovered in the backs of all their minds.
“It’s almost stopped raining,” Simon announced, bouncing in his seat as he pointed to the windows.
“Yes, but it’s still a little wet,” Maddie answered. “How about I challenge you to a friendly game of air hockey in the arcade while we wait for the sun to do its job?”
Simon giggled. “You’re on!”
Joanna made a show of gazing upward and groaning. “Not again. You two go crazy whenever there’s an air hockey table in the room.”
