Always My Hero

by Jennifer DeCuir

  When he’d been accepted on a football scholarship to UCLA, he couldn’t go anywhere without a slap on the back, well wishes, and lots of “We’re so proud of you, son.” He had to admit that it was a pretty heady feeling. That last summer before college was the best of his life.

  And then he’d failed them. In one day, one freak accident, he’d blown his chances of a career in pro football. Oh, the people of Scallop Shores were too polite to say anything. They had put him up on a pedestal, and there he would stay. Instead of coming home a champ, he was coming home a chump. Well, an accountant, but really, for someone who was supposed to be the town football hero, what was the difference?

  “I’ll take Wes around tomorrow, show him my old stomping grounds.”

  Wesley, the one thing in his adult life that he was supremely proud of. Maybe folks would be so distracted by his son that no one would want to rehash his glory days.

  Chapter 2

  It couldn’t have been more than fifteen degrees as Bree and Foster shuffled down the deserted business district in Port Kitt. Her breath came out in great plumes of icy vapor and she could no longer feel her nose. She’d dressed for a dinner date, not the outdoors, and pantyhose did nothing for the winter chill. Her feet and legs were screaming at her.

  They had eaten at Molly Malone’s, and as it was still early in the evening, decided to do a little window shopping. Hugging her arms around her middle, Bree stamped her feet while they paused in front of an art studio to study the portrait in the window.

  “Here, let me help.”

  Foster pulled off one of his gloves and one of her mittens. Wrapping her hand in his, he stuffed them both inside his coat pocket. It was a sweet gesture and she smiled up at him shyly. He returned the smile, those deep divots in his cheeks popping out in stark relief against his smooth skin. Bree waited. His thumb pressed a rhythmic circle into her palm. She should be feeling a bit breathless by now, right? Maybe it was just the bitter January night.

  “Thanks, but I really think it’s just too cold to be out and about tonight. How about we head back to my place for some hot cocoa?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

  Too late, Bree worried that she might be giving Foster the wrong message. She hoped he understood cocoa meant cocoa. It wasn’t code for “please spend the night and see how I look wearing your shirt as I cook breakfast in the morning.”

  On the way back to her place, she silently applauded the genius who invented heated car seats. Oh, happy bottom! She’d assumed that Foster’s parents were pretty well off, having such a successful restaurant in the harbor. But these luxurious leather seats and the satellite radio station tuned to soft jazz, not to mention the seat warmers and other fancy gadgets in this pricey hybrid, told her Foster wasn’t doing too bad for himself, either.

  They were both silent during the twenty minute drive, and though that could have been construed as a little awkward, Bree was relieved to have a moment to herself to reflect. She leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to think positively.

  She had been a busy beaver that week following the wedding, and should be patting herself on the back. It looked like fate was giving her a little nudge out of the starting gate. Just for kicks, she had stopped to check out the community bulletin board on her way in for her morning coffee at Cady’s Dream on Monday.

  The first step toward a happy ever after was to get out of her mother’s house and start living her own life, in her own place. Ever since her stepfather had died, Bree had been more of a second parent to her little brothers than a sister. She told herself she was needed. But it was really an excuse to keep from dealing with her own issues. Sam, Perry, and Theo kept her so busy she barely had time to dwell on the pain she was hiding.

  There was an ad for a duplex not too far from the library. Fully furnished and for less than she was paying her mother for the room she’d lived in since she was born. She checked it out on her lunch break and had signed the lease and received the keys by the end of the day.

  Rather than get all melancholy over her daughter’s decision to move out of the house, Lyssa was thrilled for her. Perhaps a little too thrilled, when she boxed up all of Bree’s clothes, knickknacks, and personal belongings while she was at work the next day. They each took turns dropping a few boxes off at a time, during the day. Bree had the utilities switched over and spent her first night in her new place Thursday evening.

  It was a lot quieter than she was used to. No little brothers running around like maniacs, body slamming each other off the walls and using every surface of the house as their own private jungle gym. The first night in her new place, she couldn’t sit still. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she walked from room to room, touching a couch cushion, the toaster oven, a roll top desk in the study, the carved wooden bedpost … “Mine,” she said with every caress. It was a great feeling.

  Bree had been looking forward to her date with Foster on Saturday night. She was still riding the high she’d gotten from having the nerve to ask. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date and was abysmally aware that her wardrobe showed that. Just one more thing to add to her to-do list of what she’d need as she started her new life. Shopping for clothes and shoes was not her idea of a good time, but this was a year for changes. She’d find a way to make it fun.

  He’d brought her flowers, held the door for her, and been incredibly attentive all evening. But as the night wore on, Bree waited for that connection, the spark that told her he was “the one.” She wanted to eagerly await the good night kiss on her doorstep. She wanted to feel … something. But the only time her heart started racing was from nerves and embarrassment, not heat and passion.

  Foster was a great guy and she hoped he found the perfect woman to make him happy. All the same, she was disappointed, frustrated, and a little scared that she would have to put herself out there again in order to find her Mr. Right. Worried she hadn’t given the guy enough of a chance, she glanced over at him.

  He flashed her those wicked dimples and she smiled back at him. Without saying a word, he reached over the console and squeezed her knee. Nope. Nothing. Oh dear Lord, what if she was broken? If a sexy guy like Foster couldn’t get her hot and bothered, who could?

  “Looks like you have a new neighbor.” Foster pointed as he pulled into the snowy driveway.

  “Who on Earth would choose to haul stuff around at this hour?” Bree didn’t wait for Foster to come around to her side. She opened the car door and headed for the stranger whose face was hidden behind a huge box.

  “Excuse me. Can we help you?” Bree slipped her mittens off and stuffed them in her coat pockets, so she could get a better grip on the cardboard boxes.

  She reached out and placed her hands on the box her new neighbor was carrying up to the porch. Her chilled fingers made contact with the stranger’s, the electric current of awareness causing her to gasp. She hadn’t felt that kind of reaction since ...

  “I’m almost done here. But if you really want to help, there are a couple of boxes left on the tailgate.” He shifted the box to the side to peer around the edge. “I appreciate the ... Bree? Bree Adams?”

  Even with a ski cap covering his hair and a thick wool scarf muffling his words, she recognized those soulful brown eyes, that gravelly voice. No, no, no. Not him. Anyone but him. Not here. This was her new sanctuary. Her new start. No old mistakes allowed. Realizing she still had her hands around the box he was carrying, Bree let go and took a few steps back.

  Too late, she remembered the snowy edges to the driveway and the fact that she wore heels and hose. She squealed as snow filled her shoes, the icy sensation startling her so much that she lost her balance, her arms pinwheeling uncontrollably. She landed on her butt with a less-than-ladylike grunt, hoping she hadn’t flashed her white granny panties in the process.

  “Whoa, sweetheart, are you all right?” Foster reached down and pulled her upright, brushing the snow from her wool
coat and skirt.

  Putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side, he acknowledged Bree’s new neighbor.

  “Hey, there’s a familiar face. Ryan Pettridge, hometown hero. Good to see you again. Dude, I am so sorry about your dad.”

  Bree’s face heated. She’d completely forgotten that his father had suffered a stroke. Of course he’d come home. He was probably going to run the hardware store for his parents now.

  “Thanks. He’s a stubborn cuss, my old man. I’m sure he’s going to be just fine. But yeah, I’m helping out for now.” He gave Bree a long look. “You okay? I didn’t mean to surprise you like that.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just a klutz. Let’s help you get those boxes inside.” She shifted her gaze to his left shoulder, a safe spot to focus on. Those eyes of his only caused her to go weak in the knees.

  “No way. You two should head on home. I’m not even staying tonight. Got another load tomorrow. It was good seeing both you again.”

  Before she could correct his assumption that she and Foster were a couple and explain that she lived in the other half of the duplex alone, Ryan had already turned around and scuffed up the stairs to his front door. Her toes on fire, she lurched toward her apartment.

  “Talk about a blast from the past, huh? I remember now. You’re the reason Ryan was able to get that scholarship to UCLA. You tutored his lazy butt in English.”

  “And math and history.”

  “The guy owes you big time, then.” Foster held the door open for her, kicking the snow off his shoes before he stepped in after her, shedding his coat and shoes and heading into the living room before she could feign a headache and get out of the rest of the date. Cocoa it was, then.

  Bree took her time hanging up her coat in the hall closet, turning Foster’s last sentence over and over in her head. The way she saw it, she owed Ryan. She owed him more than she could ever repay in a lifetime. Because of her, Ryan would never get to know the child they had conceived together.

  • • •

  The shatter of glass as a waitress accidentally tipped her tray and sent several beer mugs sliding to the floor shook Ryan out of his reverie. He peered through the cigarette haze toward the bar, where his buddy, Luke, was buying the next round. It was pretty crowded for a Sunday night. Or that was his assumption, seeing as Ryan hadn’t been out to a bar on a Sunday night, or any other night, since before Wesley was born.

  “Glad you could make it out tonight.” Luke handed him a Sam Adams and sat down at the water-ring stained table.

  “My mother put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  “I was going to look you up. No joke.”

  “Christ, did she actually go down to the station?” Ryan grimaced, already knowing the answer.

  “She brought chocolate chip cookies. Your mom has every firefighter in Scallop Shores wrapped around her finger.” Luke smiled, unashamed.

  “Man, I don’t know if I can get used to...that scruff.” He ran a hand over his own chin to signify the ginger beard his old friend from high school now sported.

  “Hey, comes in handy this time of year.” Luke grinned.

  “A big hit with the ladies, too, no doubt.”

  “Huh. Wouldn’t know. I’m too busy to deal with the female set.”

  While his friend looked a lot different, it was clear Luke was still painfully shy around women. Shelving the topic, so as not to embarrass the guy, Ryan took a swig of beer and people watched for a few moments.

  “Can you believe that the last time I was in town, I couldn’t even drink legally? This is the first time I’ve actually seen the inside of Smitty’s.”

  “You’ve been hiding out a long time.”

  “I have not been hiding.” Ryan turned his head to the side and muttered, “ … much.”

  “Well, you’re back now. We ought to get the guys together for hockey out on Perkins pond.”

  “Who still lives in town?”

  The idea of reconnecting with his former teammates, aside from Luke, should have felt good. Except that his mind automatically wondered whether the guys would judge him for abandoning football, the town, and all his friends for so long. He deserved to be judged. He’d been a weenie. Still, there had been a time when they were as close as brothers and Ryan had to admit that he missed out on seeing what they’d done with their lives.

  “Jamie teaches high school science. Ironic, huh? Kid voted Most-Likely-To-Blow-Up-The-Chem-Lab now has his own classroom. Doyle works for the town manager. I want to give him shit over the fact that they make him wear a tie, when he looks more like he belongs in a biker gang, with all those crazy tats of his. But he’d probably kick my ass.

  “Scott lives the next town over. We call him the ‘Sperminator’. Would you believe he has two sets of twins? Freaky, huh? ‘Course he’s also a little whipped, so we’d have to ask his wife for permission in order to snag him for a game.

  “Chase is on the police force. He and Amanda had a little boy last year. Oh and then there’s Foster. You probably remember he went off to some fancy-schmancy culinary school? Could have worked in any of the ritzier restaurants in the country, but he manages his parents’ restaurant now.”

  Foster. Yeah, he’d run into that particular teammate last night. His new neighbor. Ryan shoved a hand through his hair and tried to keep the scowl off his face.

  It wasn’t like he had anyone to blame but himself. He’d left town. He’d chosen Haley because it was the right thing to do. Bree had every right to move on with her life, to find a husband and settle down. And if he had any say in who she ended up with, he had to admit Foster Duncan would have been on the short list. He was a standup guy. And a damned lucky one, at that.

  “You see Bree yet?”

  Ryan slammed his knee on the underside of the table. This, in turn, jostled the beer bottles and had both men scrambling to grab their own before they tipped over. Luke raised the bottle to his lips and watched his friend, a curious smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

  “She was just a friend. Just my tutor.”

  “Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Luke took another sip and continued to watch him.

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at.” He’d been so careful not to let anyone know exactly how he’d felt about Bree. He had a girlfriend, for crying out loud! Only a dick would have flaunted that in front of her.

  “Ever heard the expression ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’? That was you, buddy.”

  “No, that’s bullshit. If Haley knew I liked Bree, she would have said something. She would have been pissed.”

  “Perhaps. She would have made Bree’s life a living hell in high school. But look at it this way, she knew she’d won. She had what she wanted and screw everyone else.” Luke’s shrug looked almost like an apology.

  “Tell me how you really feel,” Ryan drawled.

  It wasn’t like his friend was making up stories. Haley was the classic Mean Girl in high school. But she’d had her good points too. She’d been his biggest supporter. When his coach had insisted he hire a tutor or lose all chance of his free ride to UCLA, Haley had done the legwork and brought him Bree. She wanted the best for him and she went out of her way to help him get it.

  “I’m sorry you guys didn’t work out. Really I am. Haley wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but she made you happy.”

  Or so he’d led everyone to believe. Ryan sighed, raising his arms above his head in a lazy stretch.

  “Hey, I wish her well, you know?”

  “You two still talk? She ever make it as an actress out there in LaLa land, like she wanted? I haven’t seen her on the big screen and I don’t really watch much TV. She keep tabs on her little boy?”

  “Haven’t heard from her in years. Once she signed those papers, Wes and I ceased to exist.” He shrugged. No big deal. “Let’s just say motherhood isn’t Haley’s strong suit.”

  “That’s gotta
be rough on Wes. A boy needs his mother.”

  “We’re doing just fine on our own.” More like they were doing a good job faking it for the rest of the world.

  “I’m sure he’ll make lots of friends, now that you’re home. I think one of Bree’s little brothers is in Wesley’s school.”

  Bree again. There were reminders of her everywhere.

  “See, the thing is, I’m not planning to stay in Scallop Shores. I didn’t come home to take over the store for my dad.” Ryan squirmed in his chair. “I’m going to try to convince them to sell it.”

  A silence fell over the little table and Ryan could only assume it was as awkward for Luke as it was for him. He flagged down a waitress and ordered another round of Sam Adams, adding in nachos since he’d forgotten to eat dinner.

  “I thought you got your own place?”

  “Yeah, but the lease is month to month. Dad’s got all these visiting nurses popping in. They have a hospital bed set up in the living room. Ma turned my bedroom into a sewing room. Wes and I have been sleeping on a futon. I think she’s happy to have us close … but not too close, you know what I mean?”

  “How’s he doing, your dad?” Luke nodded as the waitress set a beer in front of each of them and slid a plate of loaded nachos toward the center of the table.

  “The idea is to get him moving again. He lost all mobility on one side. Even his speech was affected. It kills me that I can’t understand him when he tries to talk. I think Wes is scared of him.”

  “I’m sorry, Ry. Your dad was always such a tough son of a gun.”

  “We’ll get him up and out of bed again. Hopefully able to go fishing and hunting with his buddies. But he’ll never be able to run that hardware store again,” he continued, feeling as though an explanation was in order. “I’m doing this for them. Sell the store. Get top dollar and set my parents up for a sweet retirement.”

  “You think they’ll go for it?”

  “I think Dad’s stroke was a wakeup call and they need to realize that instead of thinking day to day, they need to plan for the future. And the future isn’t going to involve handing the hardware store down to me just because it’s what they want.”