“I’m glad, Dad.” So glad, it was downright embarrassing.
“But we’d have been just as proud of you, with or without the money you make.” Joe pointed his finger again. “Because you remembered your family. You still wanted to make a difference here—even if being with us is still hard for you. That’s worth a hundred times more to your mother and me than the fortune you’ve sent home.”
“It’s not that it’s hard . . .” Oliver shook his head, wondering how to say what he wanted to say now that he had the chance, without worrying his parents with things that he could deal with on his own. “It’s just that—”
Marsha appeared beside the bed. “Travis is back from grabbing a bite downstairs.”
Her touch on Oliver’s arm felt even better than the hug she’d given him when he’d first gotten there.
“Go spend a little more time with your brother.” Her voice was breezy and light. Her smile was the genuine article. But none of it erased the worry from her eyes. “Let me get this troublemaker to sleep a little.”
“Trouble is your favorite thing about me.” Joe grinned at his college sweetheart. “And what makes you think I’m going to be able to sleep now that our boy is home?”
Oliver inhaled around the desperate love he felt for these two, dreading already the reality of walking away again. Marsha was at her strongest when life threw its trickiest curveballs. Whatever she had to do, it got done. He’d admired that about her even when he’d been an f’ed-up kid.
You’ll be fine, son, she’d said to him his last night in Chandlerville. You’ll make this work. And you’ll be back.
Joe had just brought him home from county lockup—free of charges for wrapping the family van around a tree in a drunken stupor. But the damage had been done. Marsha had packed the few things Oliver owned outright in Joe’s old backpack from when he’d gone to college at the University of Georgia. She’d met Oliver and Joe at the door: Oliver hung over, Joe grimly worried and ominously silent the entire ride home. Marsha had hugged Oliver, and he’d known it was over. For the first time since losing his birth mother he’d been truly terrified.
It was time for him to figure out if he wanted to self-destruct or make a life for himself. And he was going to have to take the next step on his own.
I know this is hard, Marsha had said, her voice strong as she clung to him. But I have faith in you. And we’ll be here. We’re your family, Oliver. We’ll always be here for you . . .
Her resilience, her belief that life’s hardest struggles could make you stronger, was the constant he’d circled back to most over the years. She’d had confidence in him, even when he’d been at his worst. Now she was just as determined that Joe would get better. Eyes open, arms wide, convincing everyone else to fight a little harder than they thought they could, she was going to will Joe’s complete recovery into reality. And Oliver would do his level best to help her.
Joe was studying him with his uncanny ability to see more of people than they often wanted to be seen. “You’ll do it?”
Oliver’s mom glanced between the two of them. “Do what?”
“The house,” Joe explained. “The kids. Teddy.”
“No . . .” She shook her head. “I can take care of—”
“You’re going to take care of yourself before you end up being admitted, too.” Joe held tight to her hand when she would have pulled away. Oliver stood and let his dad tug Marsha down to sit beside him. “You’re already exhausted. You haven’t left the hospital since we got here. Dru can bring you some things from the house to make you more comfortable. Oliver will take the lead with the kids, at least until I’m on the mend enough for you to divide your time better.”
“But Teddy’s just a baby,” she said. “And Family Services—”
“Oliver helping will show the county that things are still stable. Dru and Travis can shift stuff around at their jobs only so much. Oliver’s between contracts, right?”
Oliver nodded, feeling as if a noose were cinching a tad tighter around his neck.
Joe had explained about Teddy, a new baby, a toddler. He was on provisionary placement with the family, to ensure he was thriving in his new environment. Which meant Marsha and Joe needed someone from the family living in the house around the clock, even if that someone was more of a stranger than a big brother. It was the only way to be certain the baby wouldn’t be displaced and reabsorbed into the system.
“But you’re so busy,” Marsha said to Oliver. The rush of worry and relief in her expression would have settled it for Oliver even if he hadn’t already made up his mind.
Each minute he was home would cost him when it was time to get back to his own life. He’d lose the Canadian pitch, too, if he didn’t get back to Atlanta to work on it before the weekend. He’d become even more attached to his foster family. And as an added bonus, he’d be staying next door to Selena, an off-limits siren he had no business wanting to talk to again as badly as he did. But Marsha and Joe needed him in Chandlerville, so that’s where he’d stay.
“I’ll take care of it, Dad.” He’d find a way through. He always did.
“Thank you,” his dad rasped.
Oliver remembered his father’s voice booming across a roomful of kids, freezing everyone in mid-mischief.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Marsha said. “But—”
“I got you covered.” He knew zilch about riding herd on a battalion of kids who wouldn’t trust him, a total stranger, from the get-go. But flying blind had never stopped him before. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
A fresh wave of pride warmed Joe’s pasty complexion. “Your brother and sister will pitch in as much as they can.”
“Sure.”
“They’re good with the younger kids.”
“Sure.”
Oliver grappled for another word but couldn’t find one. Because it was just plain wrong to be feeling this excited. His dad was in cardiac ICU, damn it. But Oliver couldn’t help it. He was home for at least a few more days.
“You should make a point of seeing Bethany, too,” Marsha said.
Little Bethany Darling . . . Though she wouldn’t be so little now.
“She was, what?” he asked. “Fourteen when I left?”
“Fifteen,” Joe said.
“Travis said she’s mostly steered clear of the family since she graduated from high school and punted on her scholarship to that New York art institute.”
“She’s confused and hurting,” Joe said. “But she’s stuck close to home. She keeps up with Dru and—”
“And we haven’t seen her at the hospital yet,” Marsha said. “Maybe you could find her and—”
“Sure,” Oliver said.
He and Bethany had been almost as close as he and Dru and Travis. But he’d kept his distance from her for years the same as from the rest of the family. What’s to say him tracking her down now wouldn’t hurt his parents’ chances to reconnect with her while he was around?
“I’ll do what I can, Mom. Don’t worry about anything.”
“Your mother’s cranky,” Joe teased, “not worried. I’ve spoiled her plans for tonight . . .” He took a shallow breath. “Belinda Rosenthal and her garden club ladies-in-waiting were coming over to the house to talk about whatever they’ve got brewing.”
“Father of the Year,” Oliver said. “Yeah. Travis mentioned that. You’re officially the bomb, Dad.”
Joe waved away the suggestion.
“Admit it.” Marsha brushed a butterfly kiss across his cheek. She wiped perspiration from his forehead. “You’re hiding out in your cushy room here because coffee and dessert with Belinda and her ladies who lunch has you running scared.”
“Enough to risk hospital food?” Oliver shuddered. “Tell me you’re not that desperate.”
He’d eased closer to the door. He wasn’t slinking away, he told himself. He wasn’t desperate to sniff out the caffeine he’d sworn off—a nod to cleaner living, like meaning to get more sleep. He’d
handle staying in town just fine, once he had a calm moment to plan an exit strategy that would suit everyone. Once he could see the end of a project, he always found the right path through the chaos.
He reached behind him for the doorknob.
“Get some rest,” his mom advised. “You’re going to need it once the kids get home this afternoon. Travis and Dru are helping me talk with everyone at the house after school. I could introduce you to younger brothers and sisters then.”
“Sounds good.”
“Thank you for being here.” His father’s smile was tighter than before, but just as genuine. “For staying. You don’t know what this means to us.”
“No worries.” Oliver pushed through the door to cover his worry about all of it.
At the moment, he’d kill for a quick ride home and a few hours of being unconscious. But he turned down the hallway toward the CICU waiting area, searching for his brother . . . and put on the brakes so fast his sneakers skidded on the linoleum.
Selena stood with her back to Travis. She stared at Oliver, her bottomless brown eyes rounded like saucers. She was the best part of his messed-up childhood, and she was once more just a touch away.
He’d survived his teenage years by promising himself Selena would be his future. After they’d imploded, too many of his restless nights as an adult had been filled with dreams of what they could have been. And now that they were back in the same place, fate seemed determined to throw them together. Fate, and Oliver’s family.
He could hear every hesitant breath she took. He could see what looked almost like regret in her gaze. Only there was something more there—enough to completely lose himself in, if he wasn’t careful.
“Hello, Selena.” His glance toward Travis promised retribution if his brother had helped set this reunion into motion.
Travis held up his palms, innocence personified. “I just got here.”
“I’m sorry about this,” Selena added in a rush.
She looked like any second she might hug Oliver or burst into tears or worse. While he wanted to close the distance between them, hold her body against his, and be certain she was really there.
She stayed put.
So did he.
Oliver was officially one surprise over his coping threshold.
“Now isn’t a good time,” he said.
Dipping his toe into his past with Selena would be like taking that first hit of caffeine. Innocent enough in theory. Just one sip. He’d still be in control. No problem. Until his addiction had him by the gut and there was no shaking it loose.
Selena fussed with the strap of the tote bag she’d slung over her shoulder. She looked ready to crawl out of her skin. But she didn’t move. And if she didn’t move soon, one of them was going to scream. Most likely Oliver.
Then the elevator at the end of the hall dinged, its doors rolling open, and Brad Douglas stepped onto the ICU floor.
Having Oliver close was better than Selena remembered. Every part of her wanted him even closer—when reason said she should be getting the hell out of there, while Oliver stared at her, and then Brad, and then her again.
Brad had stopped just outside the elevator. Even taller than Oliver and Travis, he managed to look both easygoing and badass in a sheriff’s deputy uniform identical to Travis’s. Except Brad’s was neatly pressed, and Travis looked like he’d slept in his.
Brad had steered clear of Selena since she’d come home, to spare her the mortification of having to face him. Or maybe to spare himself—since he was engaged to yet another person in Chandlerville who had reason to despise Selena. He seemed as shocked as Oliver to find her in CICU. Meanwhile Travis was gazing at them as if all the oxygen hadn’t just been sucked out of the hallway.
And it felt so . . . right, somehow.
“The Three Musketeers,” Selena couldn’t stop herself from saying. “Together again.”
Travis chuckled and popped his chewing gum. “I’d forgotten about that.”
Brad flicked an answering grin toward Oliver, looking as self-conscious as Selena had felt back at the house.
“I’m sorry about Joe,” she said to Oliver. She really was. And she really had to get out of there.
Because, God, she wanted to hug him instead—all of them—and catch up. Empty seconds ticked by, filled with everything she and Oliver couldn’t say to each other. Not now, in front of Brad and Travis. Maybe not ever.
“Thank you for coming to check on Dad.” Travis’s hand gently closed around Selena’s elbow. “It’s great to see you again, even if—”
Selena tugged free. If he said one more nice thing while his brother stared daggers at her . . . Why was she still there, letting herself hope for the good things that might still be possible for her and Camille—if Selena and Oliver could find a way to at least be civil to each other?
“I have to go.” Her legs finally cooperated, moving her toward the elevator.
Halfway there, with Brad aiming his hesitant smile at her, she sensed someone closing in from behind. Her control finally snapped.
“Travis, I—”
She turned and Oliver was there instead. Right there. Belinda’s tote slipped off Selena’s shoulder and whacked him in the chest.
“Shit,” she said.
Selena swallowed another of the curses that had come far too easily since her marriage imploded. Then she lost herself in Oliver’s emerald gaze. It was as pure and clean as spring rain. Her desperation to leave shimmered into instant need. This close to him, all she’d ever be able to do was want.
I’ll love you forever, Selena, he’d said the night she’d thrown him away, no matter what. I’m not like your dad. I’ll never leave you.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said now.
Marsha poked her head out of Joe’s room. She smiled as Oliver reached for Selena’s arm, touching her for the first time since that long-ago night.
“We should talk,” he said.
No.
No, no, no no.
“No,” she said emphatically. “We shouldn’t talk. Not like this.”
She felt her resolve to do the responsible thing evaporate.
If he stayed in town and Marsha kept meddling the way she was, some kind of showdown was inevitable. There’d be no escaping it unless Selena bolted again for parts unknown. And having things finally in the open would probably be for the best. She’d put it off long enough. But the heat rolling off Oliver’s powerful frame made her want far more from him. And she had to get that nonsense under control.
He seemed so . . . distant. So completely different suddenly. It was possible her heart was going to melt into nothing.
“Watch out,” Travis said as Marsha headed their way. “Matchmaking mom, incoming.”
“I hope Joe’s okay,” Selena muttered to both brothers. “I’m so sorry, Oliver . . . for everything.”
She raced for the elevator, sidestepping Brad.
“I’m sorry about this,” she said to him, too, as she stabbed the call button.
The elevator opened with a cheery ding. Inside the car, she turned back. Brad and Oliver and Travis were side by side, their hands braced on their hips, identical perplexed expressions on her musketeers’ faces.
Her cell phone played its “Danger Zone” ringtone, saving her from walking back onto the CICU floor. Marsha joined her sons. Selena turned her back as the elevator closed and answered the call from her, if there was a God, soon-to-be ex-husband.
“What is it now, Parker?”
Chapter Five
“Go after her.” Marsha stood close to Oliver without touching him, the way she had the first day he’d come to live with the family.
He’d felt unbearably raw then, after losing his birth mom. A similar flood of violent emotion clawed at him now.
“I’ll go,” Brad said.
He hesitated. He blinked at the killing stare Oliver cut him and headed for the elevators, shaking his head.
Marsha followed at his heels. “This
is all my fault. Poor girl.”
“You’re just going to stand there like a chump,” Travis asked, “and leave Mom to deal with this on her own?”
Oliver wanted to snarl and rip into something, preferably his brother. But Travis was right. Marsha looked almost as rough as Joe had. She needed to be caring for her husband, not consoling Selena. And Oliver could have prevented all of this if he’d had the balls to deal reasonably with Selena from the start.
His mother and Brad had already disappeared, their elevator heading down. Oliver punched the button to follow. He could still feel the softness of Selena’s skin beneath his fingers. Travis joined him, stepped with Oliver into the car, and punched the button for the ground floor.
“Butt out,” Oliver said. “I can handle this on my own.”
“You bet. You’re one smooth devil.”
“Do yourself a favor and back off.”
“Hey.” Travis cuffed Oliver’s shoulder with an open palm. “Don’t hate your wingman.”
“Is wingman slang for ‘dead man walking’?”
Travis chewed his gum, unfazed.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened in time for them to catch Selena hurrying across the lobby toward the front entrance. Brad and Marsha watched her leave. By the time Oliver and Travis reached them, Selena had disappeared outside.
“I feel horrible,” Marsha said.
She wasn’t the only one. It had gutted Oliver upstairs—the stricken look on Selena’s face.
“I’m sorry if I made things worse.” Brad’s remorse was as genuine as his earlier welcome home smile. “But it’s good to see you, man.” He offered Oliver his hand. “It’s been a hell of a long time. Too long.”
Oliver shook out of habit, while watching Marsha stare after Selena.
“I stopped by on an early lunch break.” Brad’s uniform, identical to Travis’s, explained the rest.
Travis had conveniently forgotten to mention that he worked with the guy.
“Dru’s tied up at the restaurant,” Brad continued. “She dropped Teddy at the church daycare after getting the kids off to school. She’ll pick him up on her way back for this afternoon’s meeting at the house. She wanted me to see if there’d been any updates from Joe’s doctors.”
Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) Page 4
