Rules of the Game

by Sandy James

  That was why the charges were pled out. Jack had put himself in the man’s path. And without the blood test, they had so little evidence, what more could they convict him of than reckless driving? “So he wasn’t drunk?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said we’ll never know for sure, and even though my son died, I don’t want someone put in prison for something he didn’t do.”

  The implication hit me like a tsunami—Eli almost got thrown in jail, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. I considered what Scott had done for Eli, being his advocate in front of the judge, letting him know that what my son had been accused of hadn’t truly happened.

  “I miss Jack too, Maddie. But a long time ago I learned to forgive.” She reached out and stroked my hair. “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “Forgive? You expect me to forgive that man for killing my brother?”

  “Honey, if you don’t learn to forgive others, how can you expect people to forgive you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Terri tossed me another pillow, and I set it into place on the bed in the guest room. Mom had helped me talk out some of my problems with Scott, but since then, my parents hadn’t stopped staring at me like I’d suddenly morphed into an alien. Supper had been agony to sit through, so I’d quickly left to go to my sister’s house. I’d probably stop by to talk to Mom and Daddy on my way to the airport tomorrow, but right now, we all needed our distance. Time would help. At least that’s what I prayed.

  “Mom any better?” I asked as I dragged the Amish quilt up. I knew Mom would have called Terri as soon as I left.

  Terri jerked the cover up on the other side of the bed. “This one might take a while, Maddie.”

  A shuddering sigh slipped out. “I hurt them.”

  “Duh.”

  I flashed her an angry frown.

  “Look, you can’t expect Mom to find out she’s got a grandson she never knew about and take it in stride. Her generation just looks at things…differently.”

  “Daddy seemed okay.”

  “Daddy’s sturdy as an oak tree in a crisis. Always has been. Mom will accept this. Soon. I think Eli will help. She said he already called to see if he could spend the night next Friday for some interview.” My sister led us into the kitchen. “Told me he would be calling me too.”

  “He’s studying genealogy for social studies.” I missed him already, I realized, as a shot of jealousy hit me that he’d so close that he could see Mom, Daddy and Terri whenever he wanted. But all he could do with me was text or webcam.

  She grabbed a bottle of white zinfandel, two glasses and sat opposite me. A few moments later, I was sipping Terri’s favorite wine and feeling my tension finally start to relax.

  “He’s a great kid, isn’t he?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t intelligence come from the mom’s genes? God, I hope so.”

  My sister always knew how to make me smile, which reminded me far too much of Scott’s way of handling me with humor. I took a long pull on the too-sweet wine and then refilled my glass. “Did you know Eli’s an artist? We’re working on a graphic novel together.”

  “A romance? With a sixteen-year-old boy?”

  “Nah. I wouldn’t do that to the kid. It’s science fiction.”

  “Did Scott call back?”

  An abrupt change in topic, but I just shrugged. I hadn’t even found the guts to turn my phone back on after I called Craig. I wasn’t sure what to say to fix the mess I’d made of our relationship. It had to be ideal because I might only have one shot to make things right. There was so much to think about, especially after I had the long talk with Mom about Jack’s accident.

  I’d been wrong. So very, very wrong. The burden of apologizing sat firmly on my shoulders, and I wanted the apology to be right. It had to be perfect for my Mr. Perfect.

  “For heaven’s sake, just call the man, Maddie.”

  “It’s…complicated.” Complicated? How about impossible!

  We spent some bonding time talking about Eli, about the possibilities of Terri ever having kids—next to none, according to her—and whether my parents would ever look at me the same way again. Three glasses of wine and a million yawns later, I finally called it a night, not any closer to figuring out exactly where to go from there. My life was at a crossroads—one direction led to joy, the other to loneliness. I stood helpless as to which direction I would be able to take.

  My future happiness rested solely in the hands of Scott Brady. His reaction to my apology would determine my future, and damn, how I hated having no control over what would happen.

  Once I was cocooned beneath the Amish quilt, I couldn’t shut my brain off. Twisting and turning both physically and mentally, I considered Eli and his future. The boy would be heading to college, probably pretty soon if he passed the exams to show he’d earned a high school diploma.

  I vowed again to pay for his college. I had the funds. I wanted to make up for all the hurt I’d caused him. But most of all, I was his birth mother and wanted to give him the best gift I ever could—a college education.

  I worried about my parents for a good long while, praying they’d forgive me and one day understand why I’d made the choice to keep my pregnancy a secret. I still believed I’d done the right thing in giving Eli to Stephanie and Sean Robertson. Maybe I needed to convince myself it hadn’t been selfish. Maybe I wanted to assuage my guilt. Maybe…it was simply true.

  Forgive.

  My mom told me I needed to learn to forgive. Perhaps Scott was the best person to start with. When I was little and having a fight with someone at school, Mom had also told me that I needed to put myself in that person’s shoes. Now, I tried to do that with Scott. I tried to think about what our relationship had been like on his side of the bed.

  When I met him, I insulted him, assuming he was hard up for money and trying to shape him into being some stereotype for me to parade around.

  When we’d gone to the reunion, I’d dumped my volatile past directly in his lap and expected him to help me deal with the fallout.

  When he’d told me about his career, I’d snarled at him like some rabid dog and taken the anger I’d pent up inside for an event long past that had nothing to do with him and hurled it at him.

  And Scott still told me he loved me.

  I couldn’t even hold on to my anger at him lying to me, because he’d only done what I demanded of him. He hadn’t lied. Not really. He’d been exactly what I’d begged him to be, and if he truly loved me—and God, I hoped that was still true—he’d adopted the persona I’d wanted for the reunion. There was only one secret he’d held close to him. The secret of his job.

  “You’re a fucking idiot, Maddie.”

  * * *

  The first moment I was aware of being awake, I grabbed my phone. There were five missed calls. All from Scott.

  Stumbling to the kitchen, I searched around for what I needed to make some coffee, desperately requiring a king-sized jolt of caffeine before I could face calling him back. The largest mug wasn’t as big as I would have liked, but I filled it with a ton of sweetener, then poured in the coffee. While I sipped the strong brew, I walked over to stare out the kitchen window.

  Such a beautiful autumn day. The summer had been very dry, so the leaves weren’t as pretty as some years. Not as beautiful as an Indiana autumn could be. There were a few splashes of yellow, red and orange, but the predominant color was brown. Soon, those branches would be bare and the smell of burning leaves would fill the air.

  For some reason, that made me sad.

  “Maddie?”

  I turned away from the window. “Scott.” My coffee cup slipped from my hands, bounced on the floor and splashed hot liquid all over my feet. “Shit!” Grabbing a dishtowel, I dropped it over the spill and stepped on it to help absorb the mess. “I’m a klutz.”

  “So you’ve told me,” he said with a grin. “Usually after you stepped on my foot.”

  Leaning casually against the cabinets, he rested on his elbows
. He was wearing the jacket I loved so much, and I almost reached out to run my fingers over the soft leather. The only thing holding me back was knowing that if I touched him, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from blubbering like a baby and begging him to forgive me.

  He was here. He was really here.

  I looked at him. He stared back. Those few moments seemed to stretch an eternity.

  What would be the perfect thing to say? A million words came to mind, crowding each other out so nothing would fall from my lips. All there was between us was silence.

  Then he smiled and opened his arms wide.

  I threw myself into his embrace hard enough that Scott grunted.

  “You came,” I muttered against his chest. “You really came.” I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder and sighed in happiness as his familiar scent surrounded me.

  “You needed me.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You called.”

  I pushed back to look up into his blue eyes. I’d almost forgotten how hypnotically handsome they were. “But I didn’t ask you to come.”

  “Not in so many words.”

  His lips brushed my forehead, a simple and endearing action that caused me to close my eyes for a moment and savor the cherished feeling sweeping through me. “You knew.”

  “I heard it in your voice.”

  “I’m so sorry. I…I…” A damn sob slipped out. “I love you.”

  Leaning in, he kissed me hard before pulling back. “I love you too. We need to talk, but right now, I need some coffee.”

  I nervously stepped out of his arms and fetched a couple of new mugs before pouring us both some coffee. Then I sat down next to Scott, having no idea what to say to him. “When did you get here?” I finally asked.

  “A few minutes ago.”

  “This early? Did you fly in last night?” Then why hadn’t he come sooner?

  He shook his head. “Didn’t fly. Rode.”

  “The Mustang?”

  He shook his head again. “Rode, not drove.”

  I jumped to my feet, hurried to the kitchen window and pulled back the curtain. His motorcycle sat in the driveway. “You rode the bike? All the way from Long Island?”

  His shrug didn’t answer me, but his smile did. “The Mustang wasn’t running well, and I didn’t have time to fix it.”

  I’d wronged him—more than should have been forgivable. I’d called and practically hung up on him yesterday. I’d insulted him in just about every way possible. I’d ignored his probably panicked calls all day.

  So why in the hell was he sitting at my sister’s kitchen table with me? “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you go to all the trouble to come here for a bitch like me?”

  “You know, I asked myself that same question the whole ride here.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or serious, so I kept my mouth shut. Whatever magic had brought Scott to Pottsville might easily be broken, and I didn’t want him to leave until I had a chance to try to right some of the wrongs I’d committed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked with a concerned frown.

  I closed my eyes, my heart swelling with love for this man. After everything I’d done, he was still more concerned about me than himself. How could I ever have been stupid enough let him go? I opened my eyes, both figuratively and physically. My heart pounded in my ribcage at the thought I’d almost lost him. I’d die if that ever happened again. Taking a deep breath while my brain sent a desperate plea to God, I asked, “Will you marry me?”

  Scott tilted his head like some curious child. “Maddie?”

  “What?”

  Reaching over, he took the mug from my hands, set it on the table and pulled me over to where he sat. Before I knew it, he’d hauled me onto his lap. “Are you teasing or are you serious?”

  I leaned in and kissed him. A slow kiss but filled with as much “serious” as I could manage. Then I caught his eyes.

  “Look, we’re both exhausted,” he said. “Why don’t we go to bed for a little bit? We can catch some Zs, then we can talk.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I need some time to think.”

  Everything inside me locked in terror. “You’re saying no?”

  His heavy sigh could have parted my hair. “I’m saying we’re both exhausted. Can’t we crawl into a bed and just hold each other while we sleep?” He squeezed me tight. “I missed holding you.”

  “Ditto.”

  Terri stepped in. “Um…sorry to interrupt.” She grinned at Scott. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he replied before an exaggerated yawn took over his whole face.

  “I just came to get my purse. Mike’s taking me out for breakfast. He said some little birdie told him it might be romantic.”

  My grin was every bit as big as Terri’s. “I’ll have to properly thank that little birdie.”

  “Please do. I hate cooking.” Grabbing her purse, she shut the door behind her.

  I turned my attention back to Scott. “Still want to sleep?”

  “Hell, no.”

  I leaned in, hoping that the chemistry was still there between us, knowing this kiss would answer that concern. As his tongue swept into my mouth, I got my answer.

  Every cell responded to him, every nerve was ablaze. Every inch of skin begged for his touch. My tongue rubbed across his, and I savored the taste of him again, drinking it in as if I were a wanderer in the desert who’d stumbled across a life-giving oasis. And his response spoke of his desire, the same desperation in the pit of my stomach and in my heart.

  He stood, lifting me as I wrapped my legs around his hips, never ending the lifesaving kiss as he stumbled down the hallway. A couple of times, he stopped to press my back against the wall, destroy my mouth, run his rough hands over my body, and remove some piece of clothing from one of us. I was being ravaged, and damn, it was such a glorious feeling.

  By the time we reached my sleep-rumpled bed, all that remained between us were his pants and my panties. After he pressed my back to the mattress, Scott removed the last of those barriers.

  “Scott…” I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how sorry I was, but the words were blocked by his tongue thrusting into my mouth again.

  His hands moved between my legs, pushing my thighs farther apart. When a finger slid deep inside me, I gasped.

  “Oh, angel. You’re so ready.”

  “Past ready.” I gave his hair a tug, wanting him to kiss me again. He was obviously in the mood to oblige, kissing me long and deep. He settled between my legs. I squeezed my thighs against his hips, trying to draw him closer and let him know I wanted him.

  “Hold on, this’ll be rough.” He thrust inside me.

  Nothing had ever felt so right. I arched up to meet him. Feeling him fill me made me complete in a way too beautiful to ever be able to describe with mere words. The ride was swift, furious, glorious. He slammed into me harder, faster. I reached for the release just outside my grasp. I let his desire wash over me, pulling my passion from his until he leaned down to whisper, “I love you.”

  With a moan, I came, my muscles tightening then bursting with heat, spasming as I placed my hands on his taut backside. He thrust a few more times, drawing me along with him. A second orgasm forced a shout from my lips.

  Scott pushed inside me and shuddered. I let wave after wave of bliss wash over me much as the warm waves of ocean water caress a white sand beach. He surrendered his weight, and though it was hard to breathe, I didn’t care. This was where he belonged, where he would always belong.

  “I love you,” I finally whispered back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So,” Scott said, his gaze so intense it sent a shiver over my skin.

  “So.”

  This awkwardness seemed odd. Scott and I had always found things to talk about before. Always. After the way he’d made love to me earlier that day, I shouldn’t have been so nervous. A man did
n’t let loose with a woman that way if he didn’t still love her. Hell, he’d told me so. Several times.

  Why was this still so damned hard?

  Probably because my future happiness rested solely on one tiny word from him. Yes. Or no.

  We’d awakened late that afternoon, and on Terri’s recommendation, we’d come for a quiet dinner at Chez Pottsville. Yes, the city had a French restaurant. No, no one in Pottsville actually knew what French cuisine was. The owners probably put French fries on the menu because they thought they were from France.

  I’d actually had the courage to ride to the restaurant on the back of his motorcycle—just like my alter-ego Kathryn West would have done, I’d leaned my cheek against his back, pressed my thighs against his hips, and enjoyed every minute of it.

  The waiter brought our drinks, which gave me a short reprieve as he took our dinner orders. My mimosa tasted wonderful, exactly like false courage should. Yes, that was exactly what I needed. Courage. Even if it was from a bottle. I needed the guts to follow through with the question I’d asked Scott earlier that day. The one he’d put off answering.

  Instead of getting to the heart of the matter, I made ridiculous chitchat. Where had Kathryn gone, especially now that I truly needed her? “How long are you planning on staying?”

  He shrugged. “I guess that’s up to you.”

  “Up to me?”

  A nod, but nothing more to give me any hint as to what was flying through that busy mind of his. Was he thinking about marriage, about how both our lives could change if I got up the nerve to ask him again?

  I suddenly wanted the world to be old-fashioned. I wanted Scott to be the one who asked. I wanted the responsibility on his shoulders so he could worry about how I’d answer his proposal. When had the roles changed?

  Things got turned upside down when I’d been stupid enough to walk away from Mr. Perfect. No, the ball was in my court now. I had to be the one to put my heart on a platter and hope the man I loved accepted it rather than return it unused or bruised.

  “I’m going back tomorrow,” I finally said. My poor travel agent was probably sick of me by now. My plans had changed so many times, she would probably start blocking my calls. “I could get you a ticket too. We could fly back together.”