by Robyn Neeley
Pouring himself a glass, he found some satisfaction in returning the cardboard carton to its original spot on the top shelf inside the door. She’d totally called it when she had accused him of hiding. But the longer she spent under his roof, the more Sam found himself seeking her out. Though part of that, he had to admit, was just to keep tabs on what sort of mischief she was currently up to. Not that her antics angered him, really quite the opposite. Though he kept up a gruff façade so she didn’t completely tear his house apart.
Oh, Wynter. He’d thought about her over the years, much as he tried not to. His grandmother thought she was doing him a favor when she filled him in on Wynter’s latest letters. They’d always had a strong bond and had kept up correspondence over the years. His sister was giddy the day she informed him that his two best friends had gotten married. He’d drunk himself stupid that night.
He’d tied the events of one fateful night to Wynter. Unfairly, no question, but it served a dual purpose. If he didn’t see her, he wouldn’t remember the pain, the loss, the crippling weight of guilt that had sent him into seclusion in the first place. He’d also hoped the distance would dull the longing, the bittersweet dreams of first love. Sam scoffed, wiping milk from his lips with the back of his hand.
Wynter’s pregnancy hormones were permeating the air, making him think about his feelings. It was disgusting. Just another way she blasted in and changed things. He didn’t want to think, about that fateful night or about how things might have been. He was good, really good, at burying his feelings. And without trying, Wynter was even better at dredging them up.
He had to help her get on her feet. The sooner she was gone, the better. He drummed his fingers on the counter, wondering how best to approach his prickly neighbor about a paying job for Wynter. Riley took a while to warm up to new people in his life. Sam wasn’t sure how his wheelchair-bound friend would treat Wynnie, but knowing her, she could handle anything Riley dished out.
“Sam! Goonies is on. Get in here.”
Now that was a blast from the past. Sam and Wynter must have watched that movie a hundred times while they were growing up. He was drawn to the TV room, where the familiarity wrapped around him like a comfortable blanket. She looked up from the couch, smiling eagerly as she patted the cushion beside her. Sam sat down, stretching his long legs out and resting them on the rough-hewn pine coffee table. He lifted his arm and Wynter took up her usual position, snuggled up to his side. Like time had gone backwards.
“We need popcorn,” he said, at the first commercial break.
“Oh, please, no.” She sat up, wrinkling her nose. “The smell of popcorn makes me nauseous. Sorry. Pregnancy thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, giving him an embarrassed smile.
Reality came crashing back to the forefront, reminding Sam of all the years he had missed. Yeah, he’d gotten reports from Gran and Paulie, but it wasn’t the same as having his friend right here. He turned to her, finally ready to learn about her life with Holt, to learn about his other friend’s fate.
“So you and Holt got married about ten years ago and moved to SoCal?” He turned to face her, unsure if she was up to talking about her husband, so recently buried.
Wynter’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt or upset.
“Yeah, well, we were out there already, for school. Remember?” All three of them had gotten into UCLA and though their career paths differed, they were determined not to break up the trio.
After losing his parents, Sam had transferred, last minute, to a computer science school in upstate New York. He hadn’t left a forwarding address for either Holt or Wynter. The trio was officially disbanded.
“Anyway, Holt had his heart set on being an actor. He was constantly going on auditions. And he was an extra a few times. Just another body in a large crowd scene. Never got to speak a single line, but you should have seen how proud he was.” She shook her head, her smile reminiscent.
“Why not New York? You guys would have been closer to home, able to visit for the holidays.”
“He had this ridiculous obsession with Hollywood. Holt insisted that is where he had to be. Oh, and he worked so hard to make connections, Sam.” Her eyes left his, focusing on a point in her past that only Wynter could see.
“He got a job as a valet at Universal. He was also a waiter at restaurants near all the major studios.”
“And you? Did the housewife thing, parked it on the couch to eat bonbons in front of the soaps all day?” His smile was mischievous, yet he pretended to wince when she jabbed him a good one in the arm. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Alas, the housewife route was not for me. College loans don’t pay themselves back, and Holt was not exactly raking it in. I didn’t either, for that matter, but I sure loved my job.”
Sam marveled at the peace that settled over her features, the glow that had nothing to do with pregnancy and everything to do with happiness, a life fulfilled.
“I happened upon it totally by accident. This little hole-in-the-wall bookstore in Sherman Oaks. This guy specialized in old books, rare manuscripts, out of prints, first editions.” Wynter rubbed her belly, absently, and continued to smile off into space.
“You’re still wishing Gran would give you her store when she retires, aren’t you?” Sam grinned, wrapping an arm around his friend and drawing her back against his side.
“It’s her store, silly. I don’t want it outright; I want to run it for her. I’m gonna wear her down, you’ll see.”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll do it, too.”
Since her eyes were now closed and she rested comfortably against him, he gathered up the nerve to ask his next question.
“How did he die, Wyn? Did he … suffer?” Sam knew his fingers shook and he used the pretense of rubbing Wynter’s arms to keep her from noticing.
She seemed less inclined to make eye contact than he did. He felt her sink against his side, her breath hot against his neck.
“No, he didn’t suffer. He had a heart attack. Crazy, right? Thirty years old. But they told me he had an enlarged heart, and that he’d been living on borrowed time. We never knew.”
“Was he home? Were you … ” As much as he would have liked to know that his friend had been surrounded by loved ones when he passed, Sam was equally horrified at the thought of Wynter having to witness her husband dying.
“He fell asleep on the bus, on the way home from a late shift. The driver couldn’t wake him. He went peacefully.”
A shudder passed through her body and straight into his. Sam knew firsthand what that was like. He shook off his own bad memories, worried that he’d pushed Wynter too hard. She didn’t need to dredge all this up again, especially not so soon. He leaned over and scooped her onto his lap, holding her tight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. They held each other for a long time, neither speaking.
He’d thrown away the last twelve years. The only memories he had to hold on to were of a friend on the cusp of manhood, not the man Wynter had come to know. Bitterly, he chastised himself for thinking that seclusion was the only answer.
A single tear began to trickle down. Sam quickly brushed his cheek against the top of Wynter’s soft hair.
“He understood. He never blamed you for leaving.”
Sam continued to hold her, their movie long since forgotten. At one time, he would have seen a moment like this as a hopeful sign, that she finally saw him as more than just a friend. But that was a long time ago. He’d made a choice that had taken him out of the picture, permanently. Wynter had chosen Holt. And though he may not be around anymore, Sam owed it to his once best friend to treat his widow with respectful distance.
“Are Holt’s parents still in Scallop Shores? You want to raise the baby there. I’m sure they want to be a part of her life. Sounds like a win/win to me.” He wasn’t trying to push her away again. He was just curious.
“Oh, they’re still in the same little blue house on the corner. I do want Holt’s
daughter to be a part of their lives. I’ll encourage it.”
“But you said you didn’t get on well with them?”
“We weren’t close. I guess I tend to hold parents, anyone’s parents, at arm’s length. At first, Holt was really hoping his own parents could be a sort of replacement for mine. He pushed for visits. Gave us lots of one-on-one time.” Looking away, Wynter’s features twisted in discomfort.
“It was … awkward. I just couldn’t get comfortable around them. They tried, really. It was all me.” She went quiet once more, squirming closer.
He’d take care of her. He’d help raise Holt’s baby, if she asked. But he’d keep his feelings for Wynter to himself. He had hidden them for the last twelve years. How hard could it be to just continue with the status quo?
“I’ve missed you so much, Sam,” she whispered, as she slid down to rest her head on his chest. Within seconds she was snoring softly.
Chapter 5
“I don’t need any help.” Riley fixed Sam with a dark glare. “And I don’t appreciate anyone implying that I do.”
Sam clenched his teeth, throwing his hands up in the air and letting them come down hard to slap against his thighs. Wynter had been watching the play-by-play and found herself fascinated by the dynamic between the two men. For all their obvious differences, they had a remarkable amount in common. Both feigned indifference and more than a little belligerence, but she could see how much they relied on their unconventional friendship.
“We weren’t suggesting that you need help with anything, Riley. Sam was just being a good friend and hoping you might have something that needs doing that you wouldn’t mind paying me for.” That came out wrong.
Riley arched a sharply pointed brow, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. Sam made a sound as though he were choking, his gaze suddenly intent on the floor in front of him.
“Oh, for goodness sake! Men!” Wynter huffed, hauling herself off the couch.
She tuned out the pair as she paid closer attention to Riley’s house, trying to find something of benefit that she could do for him. Not waiting for permission, she headed down the wide hallway, poking her head into each room as she went.
“She does this at my house, too.” She overheard Sam grumble. “Wait until she starts washing your underwear.”
“Kinky.”
The higher the testosterone, the lower the maturity level. Wynter rolled her eyes. She nearly skipped one room, as the door was mostly shut. Sticking her head through the small space provided, she gasped. Eureka—she’d struck gold! Putting her shoulder into it, she managed to get the door open enough to slip her girth inside.
The room was piled high with boxes, but it was what was inside the boxes that delighted Wynter. Books. Old books. She stepped up to one box, undid the top, and leaned in for a long sniff. Ah, heaven. For some people it was the scent of fresh baked cookies, for others it was baby powder, but for her it was the lovely, musty smell of really old books.
“Riley, I think I may be a little bit in love with you,” she called out to the living room.
“Aw, hell,” was his response.
She heard them coming down the hall, though the room was so packed with boxes that even Sam had a hard time finding a place to stand. Riley remained in the hallway, his body leaning as far out of his chair as he dared. The look on his face was suspicious.
“Hey, those are very valuable. What are you doing in there? Get out before you ruin anything.” His scowl did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm.
She indulged in another heady sniff before she exited the room, giving Sam an unexpected squeeze on the way out. She beamed down at Riley and gave him a loud smacker, right on the cheek. She giggled as he sputtered in mock outrage.
“Darned right those are valuable! And it’s a crime that they’re sitting in those boxes like that.” She threw out an arm and gestured to the doorway. “Those books deserve to be sorted, cataloged, and displayed. You’ve got a freaking library of history in there.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think it doesn’t kill me that I can’t get in there and open even one single box? That was my prized collection. It’s what I valued most in the world.”
Riley spun his chair around, nearly crunching her toes in his hurry to return to the living room. Wynter shared a guilty look with Sam before chasing after the angry marine. Well, she couldn’t very well ask for a job if she pissed him off. But she hadn’t been kidding. Those books were special and deserved to be showcased. Riley wasn’t in any position to do it, but she was.
“I had plans, you know. I was going to finish out my tour, marry my girl and set us up in a big house, room enough for a library.” He rolled over to the window and sneered out at the snow-covered trees bordering his yard.
“It’s your private collection. I understand you don’t want someone else touching it.” She dropped a comforting hand to his shoulder, sighing when he shrugged it off.
“Someone else did touch it. She’s the one that boxed them up. I suppose she thought she was doing me some friggin’ favor or something.” His eyes remained fixed on the outdoor scene in front of him, a tic in his cheek the only indication that he was angry, hurt.
“I mean, who wants to be saddled with a cripple for a husband? She was right to leave.” He barked out a shaky laugh. “She boxed up all my damned stuff while I was stuck in the VA hospital, put it in storage.”
Riley turned his chair around to face his guests. The look on his face seemed to dare them to pity him. He’d kick their asses for it.
“You know how I found out she’d left me?” He cocked his head to the side, waiting for an answer to his obviously rhetorical question. When they remained silent he nodded, the sneer returning to his face. “She mailed me the key to the storage unit. That’s true love, huh?” He sniffed.
“Karma’s a bitch. She’ll get hers.” Wynter smiled down at the man who was far too young to be this bitter.
“So how the hell much do you want for this thankless project?”
“Oh, I’m not sure … ” She was suddenly uncomfortable. Clearly those books represented a painful time in Riley’s not-so-distant past.
“You brought it up, now you don’t plan to follow through? I thought you needed the money? Why the hell did you come over here and bother me for, then?”
“Hey, Ri, ease off, man. She’s just trying to help.”
“Yeah, there’s that word again. Riles me up. I don’t need help.” He sighed, screwed up his features and added, “I don’t want to need help.”
Wynter resisted the urge, and it was a strong urge, to wrap her arms around Riley. The man was hurting. Hiding himself away from the world, like he was doing, was only making him feel worse. Instead, she slipped a hand into Sam’s, drawing strength from his warm touch.
“I hope you aren’t the lazy, lie-abed type, because I like to get things done first thing in the morning. I’ll be here at 8 A.M. tomorrow.”
She started for the doorway, dragging Sam with her, and turned at the last minute.
“Oh, and just because I’ll be here at lunchtime, that does not mean I will cook your meals for you. You are perfectly capable of doing that yourself, and since I’m helping you out, you can fix something for me, as well.”
Satisfied that she’d be getting the last word, seeing as Riley’s jaw hung low, Wynter sent him a jaunty wave and let herself out.
• • •
They argued the entire way to the hospital. It had started the day before, when Sam insisted that Wynter make herself an appointment with the nearest OB/GYN. She was in the last few weeks of her pregnancy and they needed to prepare for when little Charlotte decided to make an appearance.
The issue was money, or her lack of it. To Sam, this was a non-issue. He’d pay, end of story. But his stubborn friend was making a huge deal out of nothing. God bless her, she was a sweetheart, but when she panicked about money, she forgot to keep things in perspective. She needed to ensure a safe delivery for her baby.
They would worry about how to pay for it later.
“This isn’t your responsibility,” she repeated for the millionth time.
It was on the tip of his tongue to note that by showing up on his doorstep, she had made it his responsibility. But that would start World War Three, and with Wynter’s hormones in flux, Sam wasn’t sure he’d survive the attack. He gritted his teeth.
Heaven help him, she’d only been working for Riley for a day, and already she was channeling the ex-marine’s surly behavior. So glad he introduced those two! He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and offered Wynter a placating smile. She shook her head, dismissively, and turned her body toward the passenger side window, but not before he caught the briefest glimpse of fear. She was lashing out at him because she was terrified. Quite frankly, he didn’t blame her one bit.
Braeden, VT, was so small that what passed for a hospital didn’t include a maternity ward. Women were referred to the next major town, Burlington. It was an extra thirty-minute drive, under the best of conditions. Sam shuddered to think of just how much winter they had left ahead of them. He had a strong suspicion that getting Wynter to the hospital on time was going to take a miracle.
He’d intended to stay in the waiting room, wearing down the battery on his phone playing Angry Birds. But the minute her name had been called, Wynter gripped his arm and hauled him bodily from his chair. The woman was hiding some scary strength in that deceptively compact body. Sam likened it to the adrenaline that fueled a person to lift a car when a loved one was trapped beneath it. Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear. Good grief!
She was handed a gown and a plastic cup, (oh God, did he really have to be here for this?) and disappeared into the attached bathroom. He squirmed in the hard plastic chair in the corner. The nurse flashed him a polite smile and opened the chart.
“It says here your wife is about thirty-six weeks along?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“She’s not thirty-six weeks?” She shuffled papers around, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.
