by Miles, Ava
The muscles in her face trembled, but she had to know. “Do you think my children are unhappy? Rory especially? Like Rye said.”
Without answering, Tory stood and reached for Tammy’s arm, leading her to the kitchen table. “Why don’t we sit and have a cup of coffee?”
Coffee? She couldn’t squeeze it past her tight throat. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to coddle me. Amelia Ann likes you. She says you speak plainly. I figured you might tell me what you see as an outsider.”
“I don’t want to get into your business.”
She almost laughed. The woman was knee deep in it, like it or not. “Rye involved you when he brought you here, so, please, I would appreciate you answering my question.”
Was she ready to hear the truth? Tammy still wasn’t sure. But she hadn’t been able to banish the memory of Annabelle’s tears all morning.
Tory took a breath like someone who was preparing to dive off a cliff. “I’m not exactly an expert. Annabelle seems to laugh some.”
Tammy didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t mentioned Rory. “I watched them last night, and when I took them to play group this morning. They’re cautious and polite. Annabelle is less so, but I can still tell it’s happening… She’s slowly sliding into what’s expected of her. They’re remarkably clean for their age, don’t you think? Mama always says you can tell a lot about children by how clean they are.” And how quiet. Hysterical laughter bubbled up suddenly, and her head buzzed with it. “I need…I think I’ll take a walk.”
Dear God, Rye was right, Tammy thought. They were becoming as unhappy as she was.
“Can I leave the cookies near the door? That way I can just reach in and grab them without bothering you.” She didn’t want to see Tory again when she was like this.
“Of course.”
Tammy’s legs trembled when she stood. “You’ll have to give me your recipe…so I can make Rory his soldier cookies.” She couldn’t stop babbling. Her cotillion teacher would have taken her to task. “He would never complain, you see, but I don’t want Annabelle to be the only one with cookies.”
No, he never complained, but he so rarely smiled either. And he didn’t like to be touched. Oh God.
Fortunately, Tory stayed silent and let her leave in peace.
When the humidity enveloped her outside, she wanted to run, but her training was too deeply ingrained.
Besides, where could she run to? There was nowhere.
***
Tory watched Tammy stumble down the hall, her perfect posture no more than a memory. She gazed at the cookies and pressed her fingers to her temple. She’d never witnessed so much bottled up emotion in one person. It was like shaking a champagne bottle without opening it. The poor woman was suffering as much as her children. Should she mention their conversation to Rye? Yeah, that was a good plan. He was struggling as much as everyone else around here. His family was like the walking wounded.
She needed to quiet her mind. There was no way she could focus on her research now. She’d do what she always did when she felt so mixed up… She’d make a pie. Maybe her famous Chocolate Chip Pie would help Rye’s mood. Hell, how about hers? She could use a little comfort food. And she’d put a roast in the oven too. Peel some potatoes to boil and mash later.
She was pulling the pie out of the oven when she heard the front door slam against the wall, propelled by a gust of wind. When she went to inspect the sound, she found Rye in the hallway.
“Is Tammy here?” he whispered.
“No, she’s out…walking.” It had been over ninety minutes since she’d left, which worried Tory.
Rye pressed the bridge of his nose, heading into the kitchen. “Walking? My sister? In this heat and wind? There’s a storm brewing. Why did she come here, anyway?”
Tory leaned against the doorway. “She came to pick up the princess cookies that Amelia Ann brought over.” Part of her was brimming with curiosity about what had transpired with his youngest sister and his father, but she’d let him tell her in his own time.
Rye grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and water, and chugged it. Refilled. Then he sniffed. “God, why does it always smell so good when you’re around?” His eyes tracked to the pie. “What kind did you make?”
“Chocolate chip. One of my comfort foods.”
“My God, woman. You nearly bring me to my knees with your cooking. My stomach was queasy before, but it’s already feeling better just from the smell. Sorry, your pie got me off track. Why did Amelia Ann bring the cookies here?”
“Your mother was throwing them away. Amelia Ann managed to save the princess ones.”
Rye slumped against the counter. “Christ, she threw away the cookies?” he asked, his jaw ticking.
Her nod was perfunctory.
“That storm is moving in fast,” he said, turning and staring through the kitchen window. “Wind’s kicking up something fierce.”
There was no music in his voice, only the flatness of despair. “Don’t talk about the weather with me, Rye Crenshaw. I’m not some Southern belle.”
His back muscles bunched visibly under his shirt. He slowly turned, eyes glaring like an angry wolf’s. “No, you’re not, but you know what? Talking about the superficial is a hell of a lot easier than talking turkey, let me tell you.”
Didn’t she know it? She crossed her arms.
His angry strides brought him across the kitchen until they were nose to nose. “What? Do you want to hear about how I just told Daddy that Amelia Ann actually wants to be a lawyer? Like all the Hollins men have been for four generations until me. That she’s decided to go to Vandy rather than marry the starched shirt Mama picked out for her.”
Amelia Ann’s mother had picked out a husband for her? Part of her was shocked, but having seen Mama Terminator in action... Tory’s compassion knew no bounds for Rye’s sisters. “What did he say?”
He chuckled—a mean and ugly sound. “After I realized he wasn’t going to have another heart attack? Well, I won’t go into all the details, but he said he would support her. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake with another of his children.” He slammed his hand against the wall. “Not like the one he made with me. Goddammit! Doesn’t he know what that kind of talk does to me?”
Unhinges him, she thought, and dredges up all the pain he’d turned into anger years ago. Tory’s eyes burned at the anguish on his face, and she suppressed the urge to comfort, fearing he would only slap it away. “I’m glad for her.”
His chest was rising and falling in quick, raspy breaths. “I need some air.”
When he walked away, Tory followed. She closed the door he’d left open and walked right off the porch. The first big drops of rain hit her. The sky was dark and packed with gray thunderclouds, just like he’d warned her. She had almost reached Rye when she saw Tammy running toward the house.
“It’s going to rain,” she called.
Her suit was slick with sweat, her white sandals coated in mud. Her pantyhose had a run in one leg, and her hair had escaped her coif, clinging in tendrils to her neck and face. Mascara ran down her cheeks.
Rye darted toward her. “Tammy?”
She jerked to a halt, her ankle turning in the gravel.
The rain started to pelt the earth as he took her shoulders. “Honey, you look a fright! What’s the matter with you?”
The laugh that burst from her was high–pitched and slightly crazed. “Do you think you’re the only one around here who can get dirty?” Three more barks of laughter escaped before she pressed a shaking hand to her mouth. “I need to get the cookies. I need to go home.” Then she looked down at herself. “Oh God, I’ll scare the children looking like this. I’ve never looked like this.”
Tory believed that, all right. She pushed Rye aside and grabbed Tammy’s arm, leading her into the house. “You can take a shower and wear some of my clothes.”
The rain was pounding down now, the sound deafening. Once Tammy was safely inside, Tory turned to wait for Rye, but
he still stood there in the driveway, soaked to the bone.
“Rye, come inside!” she shouted.
He shook his head before taking off in the opposite direction.
That infernal man. The last thing she needed was for him to get struck by lightning. Pulling the door shut, she ran into the storm and jumped when lightning flashed close by. When she caught up to him, she grabbed his arm. “Rye. Come inside. Please.”
“I can’t,” he shouted. “It’s tearing me apart, being back here.”
When he started to move away from her again, she planted herself in front of him. “I know you’re hurting, but there’s no going back now. Your family needs you.”
“Leave it alone, Tory.”
When he started forward, she blocked him again.
“Leave me alone.”
“No!”
Through the veil of rain, his eyes shot fire at her. “This is none of your business.”
She ignored his menacing tone and stepped closer. “You’re wrong. You made it my business when you brought me here.”
He put his hands on his hips as thunder cracked and rolled. “What the hell do you care? If you had any sense, you’d be the one taking off.”
She pushed dripping hair out of her eyes. “I thought about it, but I’m staying to help you see this through.”
“Why, dammit?”
“Because I care about you, you idiot! And you’re lucky you still have a family.”
His arms caught her against him. “I told you. I don’t have anything to give you.”
“You’re wrong,” she said, twining her arms around him.
His hazel eyes burned a hole inside her belly. “I’m not wrong, and God help you.”
His mouth swooped down. The kiss was charged, as if it were feeding off the storm roiling around them. Tory clutched his back and opened her mouth. She wanted more. She wanted him. Teeth scraped. Hands fisted. He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on with all her might, rain running in rivulets down their skin. Warmth from his body seeped through her soaked clothes. Rye changed the angle of their kiss and took it deeper.
Desire rumbled through her body like thunder, shaking her slender frame. She groaned. He growled. The feasting continued. When lightning flashed close to them, Rye broke the kiss and pressed his forehead hard to hers.
“God, I want you so much. Right now.”
Her belly tightened. There was no going back. Steam rose from his wet hair.
“I want you too, but it’ll have to wait.” She slid down his body. “Come inside with me.”
Her dripping hand extended toward his. He studied it as lightning flashed in his eyes.
“Tammy needs you right now.” She smiled with effort. “I can have you later.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and then he took her hand. They trudged back into the house, shoes squishing water, as the storm thundered behind them like the angels battling Lucifer.
Tory heard the shower running in the bathroom when she headed into her bedroom to change. She found some clothes for Tammy and waited in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, towel–drying her hair.
Rye ducked his head inside. He’d changed, too, and had run a brush through his wet hair. He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops and rocked back on his heels.
“I found some clothes for her,” she said when he glanced toward the bathroom door.
“Good. Well…I’ll go make coffee.”
“Good idea. I’m sure we could all use some.”
He nodded and disappeared.
When the shower finally shut off, she knocked on the door. “Tammy? I have some clothes for you.”
The door cracked open, steam escaping. When Tammy stuck her hand out, Tory pushed the clothes at her.
“They’re not your usual, but they’re clean and dry.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Thank you.”
The door shut with a sharp snap, and Tory headed straight for the kitchen. Rye was hunkered down, staring at the coffee maker like it was advanced molecular science.
“Couldn’t figure it out, huh?”
“Mama clearly bought this,” he muttered.
“Perhaps it’s child proof,” she said to add some levity.
He snorted. “What? They’re trying to prevent some kid from making coffee and stunting his growth? What’s this world coming to?”
“Perdition, I’m sure.” And she’d landed smack dab in the middle of it. She got the coffee started and then stepped back, rubbing her cold hands together
Rye leaned against the counter. “You were joking about the child proof part, weren’t you?”
“Yep.”
His gaze lowered to her mouth. “I’ll make you pay for that later.”
Oh, please, her body said, but her mind had started working overtime too. “Rye…”
“Uh–oh. When you say my name like that, it tells me you’ve been thinking.” He sauntered forward. “Don’t.”
If only. “Look, when we first met at the diner, you said I could keep my job so long as I didn’t sleep with anyone in your band like your last cook. Now…” She dropped her gaze. “We’re heading that way.”
His sigh competed with the sound of the percolating coffee. “So, you’re wondering if I’ll fire you the next morning?” He settled his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “No.”
“Then…”
“Tory, you have my word. You have your job independent of what happens with us. We both know this is probably temporary anyway. You have to do your research and finish your dissertation. And I’m heading back to Nashville to start my new album.”
It hurt, his acknowledgment that their time together would come to an end. When had he become so important to her?
He tucked a damp lock behind her ear and tilted her face up. “Tory, if you don’t think you can handle that…”
She didn’t, but she also knew she’d regret it her whole life if she didn’t make love with him. “No, it’s fine. It’s good to be clear, that’s all.” It seemed wise to step away to give herself some space from those warm kneading hands on her shoulders.
“Tory, look at me,” he said. “You need to know that I don’t want to hurt you.”
Like he could control that. “Let’s get some coffee and wait for your sister. She should be out soon.”
As for her, she’d just have to learn to enjoy the moment. You’d think by now she would have figured out that nothing was permanent.
***
Tammy felt bad listening to Rye and Tory, but she hadn’t wanted to interrupt them. So there was something between them. She found herself hoping it would work out.
If there were any chance she could have left the house without them knowing, she would have tried. She’d made enough of a fool of herself. Best get herself home, but it was getting harder to feel safe there. She tried to be the perfect wife and mother, but Sterling’s anger seemed to be getting worse, regardless of what she did or didn’t do. And here she was in a strange woman’s store–bought clothes, a complete wardrobe disaster for Sterling’s “perfect” wife.
Summoning all her breeding, she walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for the cookies. Her wet hair trailed down her shoulders, the heavy feel of it making her want to wince. She never wore her hair down. “I’ll just get out of your way.”
“Stay for some coffee,” Tory said. “Be good to settle your nerves before you head home.”
There was that word again. Home. She clutched the container as if it were a life preserver.
“Besides, it will give your hair some time to dry.”
Yeah, she hadn’t found a hair dryer. Granddaddy Crenshaw had been bald, so it wasn’t like he needed one, and Mama hadn’t seen fit to furnish the bathroom with one.
Rye pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, saying nothing, and started pouring. She’d never seen him do a domestic thing in his life, so she sank into the chair. Rye nudged Tory toward the table
, almost as if he didn’t want to be alone with Tammy, and who could blame him.
The silence was unnerving as he set the mugs down.
“I’m glad the clothes fit,” Tory said. “You look good in jeans, Tammy.”
She rubbed the rough material with her thumb. “I don’t own a pair.”
“Well, maybe you should get some.”
Silence descended again. They all turned their heads when a loud knock sounded on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Tory darted out of her seat, and moments later, Amelia Ann walked into the kitchen with her, looking radiant.
“Good heavens, Tammy, what happened to you?”
“We’re having some coffee,” Tory interrupted, for which Tammy was glad. “Do you want some?”
Rather than replying, Amelia Ann continued to study them. Everyone had wet hair, and Tammy could all but feel her sister’s speculation. “I got caught in the rain,” she explained.
Amelia Ann made a clucking sound. “Don’t you keep an umbrella in the car?”
“I…must have taken it inside and forgotten to put it back.”
Amelia Ann didn’t ask about her clothes, thank goodness—she just grabbed Rye’s hand. “Rye, I just finished talking to Daddy.” A grin spread across her face.
Tammy hadn’t seen her look this happy in ages.
“He’s agreed to pay my tuition for Vandy. I’m just over the moon with joy. Oh thank you, Rye. Thank you!” she cried, bending over to hug him.
Vandy? What was she talking about?
“Wait a minute,” Tammy said, her stomach knotting up. “What’s this all about, Amelia Ann?”
As her sister filled her in, Tammy sank against the back of the chair. Law school? Like the rest of the Hollins men? My heavens. Mama wouldn’t recover. Hadn’t she already picked out Barton Pembroke for Amelia Ann? She looked from her sister to Rye, and back again.
“Isn’t that great, Tammy?” Amelia Ann asked, but even she seemed to hear the tremor in Tammy’s voice.
She fell back on manners. “Yes, that’s lovely, darlin’. I’m so happy for you.” But she wasn’t. She hated her Daddy for giving Amelia Ann what she wanted when he’d never done anything for her, never given her another choice.
“Oh, Rye,” Amelia Ann nearly sang. “We’re going to have so much fun, living so close. And I won’t have to marry Barton or anyone else Mama tries to force on me, making me miserable all the days of my life.”
