“What’s wrong with Lia?” Liz asked.
She’d misunderstood his emotional state. Good. He didn’t need to dredge up what haunted him. What haunted Lia. He wasn’t sure what Liz knew of Lia’s former marriage, but he wasn’t going to be the one to drag out Lia’s painful past and put it on display.
“Nothing,” he said. He turned away from Liz and stared out the window at the building fog. Evening had faded into night, and this promised to be a cold one. Chilled. Frigid. The opposite of how his body felt whenever he thought of Lia—on fire.
“But the way you said her name, it was like you were thinking she’s dying or something.”
Invisible hands squeezed his chest. No, Lia wasn’t dying. But she almost had. That fucking Vance. Damn it, Liz needed to let up. “Just drop it,” he said, his voice tight in his throat.
“No way. Something’s going on.”
He couldn’t handle the memories of what had happened to Lia. The image of her at her husband’s gravesite with relief splayed all over her face forced its way into his mind. Suddenly the beer bottle that had been in his hand was flying across the kitchen and into the open great room, where it crashed against the brick hearth and fell to the floor in jagged pieces. Remmie pressed close against his leg and whined.
“Jack…”
Chagrin rushed over him. The tightening around his neck increased. “I’m sorry.” He was. So very sorry. He’d let his temper get the best of him. Again. God damn it.
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. Anger was okay—uncontrollable rage wasn’t. He’d learned that the hard way—in jail. In high school, beating up the kid who’d broken Liz’s heart and spread nasty rumors about her all over school had landed him in a boatload of trouble and a stint in juvie. But it was when he’d caught Lia and Ethan’s dad whipping Lia with a belt and had in turn beat the shit out of her old man—turning the bastard’s face into pulp—now that had slapped the label of “felon” on him and sent him to jail for six months.
Thank God Vance had already died when Jack found out he’d been abusing Lia or else Jack’s permanent residence would have been Pelican Bay Prison.
“How long will you be in Meadowview?” he asked, picking up the garbage pail and heading over to where glass shards lay on the wood floor.
“Knock it off, Jack.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are. You’re deliberately shifting the topic of conversation.”
Damn Liz for pushing him. He bent and picked up the jagged and sharp pieces, dropping them one by one into the garbage. “So what if I am?”
“Maybe it’s time you faced reality.”
This was beginning to get ridiculous. Broken beer bottle cleaned up, he stood and strode back into the kitchen, conspicuously ignoring Liz.
“Jack—you’re obviously thinking about Lia and what that bastard husband of hers did to her when you threw that beer bottle.”
He shrugged and placed the garbage pail back where it belonged. Okay, so Liz knew about Lia’s abuse. He still wasn’t going to add more to whatever gossip Liz had heard.
“So what are you going to do about the fact you want her for yourself?”
Surprise sent adrenaline shooting through his system, and his spine stiffened. How the hell did Liz know how he felt about Lia? He placed his hands on the counter and breathed heavily, allowing the adrenaline to release at a gradual pace. He waited until his breath had steadied, and then turned to look at her.
“I’ve never said anything about what I feel for Lia to anyone.”
“You didn’t need to. Every time you’re around her, your eyes follow her as if she’s the North Star and you’re some sailor from the ancient days. Her name always, and I mean always comes up in conversation. And if she’s around, you find some way to stand close to her. Close enough to almost touch her.”
He frowned. “You make me sound like some fourth grader.”
Liz came close and took his face in her hands. “Lia’s husband drove into that tree and died two years ago. She’s on the market. When are you going to ask her out?”
If only it were that easy. “Yeah, well…”
“You’re such an idiot. How long have you had a thing for her?”
He pulled away from Liz’s hands. “Don’t call me an idiot.”
“Then don’t be one. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Years, okay?” He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples.
“When did it start?”
He blew out a breath. This was a truth he’d held inside until the story had calcified within him. Become a part of his very bones. He’d waited long enough. Maybe now was the right time to fracture that memory. After all, Liz wouldn’t tell anyone. In a small town like Meadowview, gossip ran a mile a minute. But deep secrets, those dark and painful ones, stayed buried. He’d held Liz’s secrets safe all those years ago—she’d do the same for him. Time to unearth this one.
He heaved a breath, then said, “I was nineteen and home from college on winter break. Lia didn’t have anyone to take her to her first high school dance, so I agreed to a pity date. She’d always been just a kid to me, but when I saw her that night…”
“She was no longer a kid.” Liz finished his sentence for him.
He nodded. “Sometime between when I’d left for college and when I came home for winter break, little Lia Sawyer wasn’t ‘little Lia anymore.”
Showing up at her father’s trailer down by the creek, corsage in hand, he’d been shocked by who he saw waiting in the dimly lit metal doorway. Lia radiated that night, dressed in a pale green sleeveless dress that swirled around her legs like water flowing in a stream. Her long, black hair was pulled up, showing off her high cheekbones and full lips, reminding him of her mother’s Cherokee ancestry. Her movements, no longer the long-limbed gawkiness of the almost-adolescent he’d remembered, had given way to an ethereal grace, as if she had grown into her name.
“I took her to the dance,” he continued, “but then I went back to Harvard, and later she started going out with Vance. By the time I moved back to Meadowview to start my construction company, she’d graduated and was married.”
“So if all you did was take her to one dance, why’d you get so hooked?”
“I don’t know,” he said, but that wasn’t quite the truth.
They hadn’t just danced together that night. No, they’d kissed.
Jack caught his breath as the memory of that night washed over him like water over smooth riverbed rock. As the night started to draw to a close, Lia had pulled him into a darkened corner and confessed she’d never been kissed. She asked him to teach her so that when she was kissed by a guy she really liked, she wouldn’t fail. He’d been happy to comply. Kissing a pretty girl was something he’d never turn down. Besides, Lia wasn’t just a pretty girl as she’d proven that night: she was gorgeous. Beautiful. Ethereal.
There was no way for him to have known the minute he put his lips on Lia’s—the second he covered her mouth with his—that his stomach would drop right out of his body and he’d be bound to her forever.
He had no way of knowing that when he kissed her he would fall in love.
Love had hit him hard, like a boulder dropped on his head from some high cliff above. That moment, as he’d explored her lips, her teeth, and her tongue, his heart opened wide, letting something in or something out—he didn’t know, he just knew he would never be the same.
As much as he’d wanted to continue kissing her, as much as he’d wanted to hold her tight, to press her body to his, he’d stopped when she came up for air. Lia had giggled nervously, thanked him politely, and then tugged at him to follow as she went looking for her girlfriends. The kiss obviously hadn’t rocked her world the way it had rocked his very existence.
In the end, his reaction to the kiss had freaked him out. There was the fact that she was still in high school, of course. But there was also the fact he knew the type of abuse she�
��d suffered at her father’s hands, and though he’d sooner cut off his own arm than ever intentionally hurt a woman, he already knew how deep his temper ran.
He was a felon, found guilty of battery, and he could never let himself forget that. He didn’t deserve someone as sweet and innocent as Lia.
After that winter break ended, he’d returned to college with the hope that his feelings would fade into the background. Yet, no matter what he did, or even who he did, Lia’s face hovered in his mind. Eventually, he’d figured that maybe it was time to let her know how he felt about her, but by the time he’d been ready to go to her, it had been too late.
She’d met Vance.
He couldn’t help feeling that by walking away from Lia, by waiting so long to make his move, he’d left her vulnerable to a man who’d regularly dished out the very abuse he’d never wanted her to experience again. Of course, by the time he’d known what Vance had done to her, that rat bastard had already been dead, but Jack should have known…
He should have protected her.
But he’d waited too long and let slip by the one person who could make him whole.
“You’re such a sap.” Liz rolled her eyes. It was almost as if she could read his mind. She put her beer down on the counter and grabbed her purse and car keys before heading for the door. In the doorway, she stopped and turned back to face him. “You know, for a guy who’s got a record for fighting, you’re a real chicken-shit when it comes to women. Stop being a wimp and ask her out.”
He forced a smile but didn’t look up as she left. The front door slammed shut. A car engine hummed. Headlights flooded his kitchen and then the light disappeared, dropping him back into darkness. Liz was gone.
He needed another beer. No, forget the beer. He needed something stronger.
He poured two fingers of scotch into a tumbler and watched the light dance on its surface as he swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass. With Remmie at his side, he walked across the kitchen and into the great room. In front of the ten-foot tall glass window, he stared at the pines and cedars that surrounded his home. He leaned his forehead against the window, letting the chill of the glass sink into his bones.
Liz was right. It was time to ask Lia out.
And he needed to act before someone else did—someone like that asswipe Peter Leary.
After Vance died, Jack had promised himself he’d pursue Lia only when she was ready. For the last two years he’d searched for a sign, any indication that she might be attracted to him. However, she’d never so much as flirted. Maybe they’d grown too comfortable in their roles as friends and co-workers. Maybe she simply couldn’t see him as anything other than her older brother’s best friend.
That was the problem with knowing a woman since she was eight years old. He rolled his forehead against the glass as the memory of meeting Lia swam into his mind. He and his friend Theo had met Ethan Sawyer and Ethan’s little sister Lia the summer the boys were thirteen. He and Theo had hit it off with Ethan, and their younger sisters, Chessie and Sadie, had become instant best friends with Lia, the way little girls do. Jack had never thought of Lia as anything but a cute kid until that night of the dance.
What a hell of a night that had been.
Remmie whined and scratched at the door that led to the back deck.
“Time to water a tree?” Jack strode through the darkened living room to where the dog sat patiently in front of the back door, waiting to be let out. He ruffled the fur on the dog’s head, then opened the door and stepped barefoot onto his deck.
The cold seeped up around his feet but he ignored it, instead gazing into the clear night sky. He pressed his back against the shingled siding, vacantly watching Remmie make his way down the steep steps and into the woods behind the property.
The retriever sniffed a variety of trees, taking his time to figure out the best one to mark.
“Make up your mind, Mr. Finicky,” Jack muttered. If Lia were here, she would have given him a dirty look. She loved Remmie and hated it when he teased the dog. Years of working alongside her had given him enough insight to know how she’d react.
The luckiest day of his life had been when she’d accepted the position of office assistant of his construction company. Jack had been thrilled to hire her. He knew how she lived—in the run-down trailer that had once belonged to her father, driving a beat-up 1980s sedan, wearing clothes from the thrift store, and supporting her good-for-nothing husband. He was happy to pay her, glad to be helping her in ways that high-school dropout Vance obviously couldn’t. Mostly he was happy simply to be near her as she bustled about his office, keeping his company running smoothly. She’d worked for him all throughout her marriage, and continued on even after her husband died.
Then, a couple of months ago, Lia left her position with his company to finalize Meadowview Sanctuary. Creating the transitional home for abused women and their children had been her dream for two years, and he’d supported her every step of the way, but he knew he’d miss her daily presence in his office. And he had. Her replacement was more than competent, but the college kid wasn’t Lia.
No one was Lia.
A quick chill shot down his chest and into his stomach. Liz was right. It was time to stop hiding his emotions. Lia had healed and she was no longer his employee. Nothing remained to stand in his way of asking her out.
His shoulders tensed. He may be ready for her, but was Lia ready for him?
The question made his stomach churn. What if Lia never saw him as anything other than a friend? What if he asked her out and she turned him down? What if she still couldn’t handle the idea of a relationship? How she’d practically passed out when he’d touched her earlier today didn’t exactly bode well.
But then again, things hadn’t simply ended there. She’d touched him—deliberately, at that. And she’d seemed to react well when he’d pushed the boundaries and brushed a kiss on her forehead.
Those had to be good signs. The signs he’d been waiting for.
He whistled for Remmie, and then tossed back the rest of his Scotch. The dog bounded up the steps to greet him with a sloppy lick.
“What do you think? Will she give me a chance?” he asked, scratching the retriever behind the ears. Remmie woofed, almost as if saying “yes.” Jack laughed. Liz thought Lia would say yes, and even his dog seemed to agree.
Fine. He’d take the risk. He’d ask Lia Sawyer out on a date. A real date.
And he’d hope to hell she said yes.
A week after Jack had kissed her on the forehead, triggering her to create what she mentally referred to as the Grand Plan, Lia stood on the front porch of the beautifully painted Victorian house, acutely aware of the crowd gathered on the lawn and sidewalk in front of her, their focus on her. Twilight edged close, and the streets of Meadowview had silenced. In an hour, Main Street would be filled with vendors, locals, and tourists all out for the Farmer’s Street Market. But for now, the streets were fairly empty, the town quiet during the shift from day to night. With palms sweating even in the cold, she gripped the scissors in her hands, ready to cut the ceremonial ribbon surrounding the building.
Meadowview Sanctuary.
She’d done it. Months and months of planning, multiple fundraisers to gain the money to buy the house, going before the City Council for permits, watching and participating as Jack and his team renovated the building, all had come to this moment. The ribbon-cutting ceremony marking the official opening of the only transitional home for women and children of abuse in Meadowview, was about to begin.
Earlier in the day, Chessie had wrapped a gigantic yellow ribbon around the house. Now, the press stood to the side, cameras ready, and Lia’s friends and supporters stood in silence, waiting for her to cut the ribbon. She took a moment to scan the crowd. Among her friends were a few local dignitaries, many of the local business people who’d provided financial and physical support, and a few women and children, destined to be the first guests of the sanctuary.
Whe
ther the guests were there because of homelessness or another’s fists, they all shared something in common: fear and hopelessness. At one point Lia had been one of those women, afraid and shrunken. Now, two years later, she’d finally stepped out of the shadows and into the light. And she hoped those women would follow her path.
Tonight, also, she would take a second step in coming out of the shadows. But she needed Jack to agree to her plan. And so far, Jack was a no-show at the ribbon-cutting event. Chessie had told her earlier he’d been called out to a house fire and wasn’t sure he could make it in time to participate.
Her chest squeezed at the thought, and she wasn’t sure if the anxiety came from Jack being unable to share in the public celebration or because she’d geared up so much to implement her plan tonight and he wasn’t even here.
But she couldn’t delay the opening any longer. If Jack didn’t show, he didn’t show. She worked hard to push back the thick lump of disappointment stuck in her throat, sucked in a huge breath, and stepped to the microphone.
With a slight quaver in her voice, she addressed the crowd, saying, “I want to thank all of you for coming. The opening of Meadowview Sanctuary represents not just a professional milestone for me, but also a very important personal one. My family, my friends, and my community have all been instrumental in helping me overcome difficulty, and I know that together we can do the same for others.”
She paused, inadvertently searching the crowd. Jack.
Her breath caught in her throat. He’d shown.
He came to stand next to his sister on the front lawn, in front of the white picket fence. His eyes and smile were soft, conveying pride, and something else. His mouth moved, as if he were telling her something.
She looked closer and realized he was mouthing, “You can do it.”
Yes, she could do it. She was ready.
“I want to especially thank Jack Gibson,” she said, continuing to hold his gaze. “Jack donated so much of his time, money, and energy to renovating Meadowview Sanctuary. There’s no one I trust more when it comes to following my dreams.”
Trusting The One (Meadowview Heat 2; The Meadowview Series 2) Page 3
