by Cate Cameron
“You ready to go pick your brother up?” Cal asked.
Zara frowned at her watch. “I’ve still got another two hours of work. I don’t have any more classes, but I’m still supposed to be here, right? And did you take off work, too?”
“Zane’s my friend,” Cal said firmly. And then, feeling a little daring, he added, “And I’d like to think you’re my friend, too. I don’t mind skipping out of work. There have to be some benefits of a family business, right?” Of course, that made him think of Michael and the tantrum he’d throw over this latest problem, but he’d worry about that later. “You want to go see if you can get off early? If you can’t, I can pick him up, give him the initial grilling, and you can tag team in when you get ready.”
“You think it’s going to be that bad?” she asked.
He smiled. “No. I think it’s going to be fine. We’ll make it be fine.”
She nodded as if she believed him. “Okay, yeah, I’m going to go ask if I can leave. But unless there’s a crisis, I’m going to leave anyway.” She flashed a quick grin, and he was so grateful to see her back to her normal spunky self that he barely picked up on her mimicry as she said, “There have to be some benefits of a job you don’t really want, right?”
She unlocked the door and jogged down the hall, and he followed a little more slowly. It occurred to him, now that it was too late, that it might have made more sense to talk to Zane before Zara was involved, just to figure out what had happened. If Zane had actually done this . . . damn it, it would break Zara’s heart.
And Cal really, really didn’t want to see that happen.
* * *
THE two of them had ridden in near silence on the way to the police station, and now the three of them were riding in complete silence on the way back out to the house.
Zane was in the backseat, staring at the floor, and Zara had no idea what to make of his body language.
No, that was a lie. She knew just what to make of it but she wished she didn’t. She didn’t want to accept that her brother was sitting back there looking guilty.
She slammed the car door a little harder than was necessary and then led the way into the house. Calvin had fallen back so Zane was between them, and maybe it was just Calvin being polite or maybe he’d seen the same thing in Zane’s behavior and wanted to make sure the bastard didn’t bolt away from this conversation.
They made it inside, walked into the kitchen, and Zara turned to stare at Zane, making the challenge as clear as possible without saying the words.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I screwed up.”
Zara’s stomach sank. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t have been that stupid. “Why?” she almost whispered.
He shook his head and gazed fiercely out the window behind her. “I panicked, I guess. There’s just . . . you don’t know what it was like. Ten years, Zara. Ten years in hell, and then they think they’re going to send me back there? No. No way, I can’t do it. I won’t do it.”
“But before that! I mean, why did you . . . wait. What are you talking about?” She stared at him, then at Calvin, who was looking almost as confused as she was but then seemed to find a little understanding.
“You’re apologizing for lying about your alibi,” Calvin said, and Zane nodded miserably.
“I can’t believe I did it.” He finally made himself look at Zara, and there were tears in his eyes as he said, “I’m a damn coward. I just . . . I lost my head, and I dragged you into this, and I knew you’d remember and you’d back me up but it’s not what I should have done.” He turned to Calvin. “I should tell the lawyer, right? He can get her out of this? I mean, if she says . . . she could just say she was confused about the dates.” Back to Zara to say, “You told them about the night we put the Ikea stuff together, right? That’s what I figured you’d pick. You could just say you got confused.”
“Wait.” Zara needed a minute to catch up. He hadn’t done it. It sounded like he hadn’t done it. But she needed to know. “Where the hell were you last night at ten o’clock?”
For a moment, Zane looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then he sighed and looked back out the window. “At the old trailer.”
“The . . .” Zara turned to Calvin to see if this made any more sense to him.
“The one in the Richardsons’ backyard?” Calvin said. “They don’t even live there anymore, do they? They moved to the city a few years ago.”
“Yeah.” Zane sounded resigned to his confession. “The house is deserted. But the trailer’s still there, and . . . I don’t know. I’ve been going there sometimes. You know how small that back bedroom is? Just a bed and a couple feet of floor. Sometimes everything else feels too big, you know? Too open. So sometimes I go there, just to relax a little.”
Because the trailer bedroom felt like a jail cell, and he liked that. Because her brother was overwhelmed by his freedom and was trying to find a way to re-imprison himself. Zara blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. “And you were there last night?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I went out after work. I slept there, came back here about four in the morning.”
This was about Zane, Zara reminded herself. Not about her. She needed to ignore her own feelings, at least temporarily. If she freaked out, it would make him feel even less comfortable in the house, even more in need of a safe shelter. “We should sort through some stuff,” she said, trying to sound calm about it all. “Your parole says you’re supposed to live with me, right? Is that mandatory? Do you want to talk to your PO about getting your own place?”
He looked like a kicked puppy.
“Jesus, Zane, not because I don’t want to live with you anymore!” And she did what she’d been wanting to do for too long. She took the few steps to him, wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders, and squeezed him tight. And he let her. After a moment, he even lifted his arms and hugged her back.
Her eyes were wet again when she finally pulled away. “I feel like I screwed up. I rented a place that’s too big for you, where you don’t feel comfortable spending the night, and where you have to pay more rent than you want to. Not that you have to pay the rent, though—I chose the place, I’m happy to pay for it. And if your PO says we have to live together, that’s okay, we can move somewhere else. Seriously. This is just a rental. I don’t care.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t care about the house or the car or any money that you want to spend. I just care about you.”
“It’s a nice house,” Zane said. “I like it. And I can afford the rent. I just . . . sometimes I just need to be somewhere else.” He stopped and looked at her for a moment, then said, “Not because of you. I’m not trying to get away from you, Zare. Not at all.”
She took a breath that was only a little shaky. “Okay,” she said. And had no idea where to go after that.
Luckily, Calvin was there, and he stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the sink. “Has your probation officer suggested any counseling or anything? Any support groups, or people who could help you with your adjustment? I mean, there should be something like that, shouldn’t there?”
“I don’t know,” Zane said reluctantly. “There’s lots of stuff for how to get a job, but I’ve got that covered. As long as this mess doesn’t get in the way . . .”
“How could it?” Zara looked to Calvin. “It can’t, can it? Or mess up his parole? It can’t do that! I mean, okay, we lied about where he was, but that’s just because they wouldn’t have believed us if we’d told the truth. And they don’t know we lied, so we’re okay, right? And they can’t find any more evidence because he wasn’t there. They can’t find evidence of something that didn’t happen, right?”
Calvin blinked hard, apparently a little surprised by Zara’s vehemence. “That sounds right,” he said carefully. Then to Zane he added, “But you should talk to your PO. And seriously, we should try to find so
me counseling. There’s got to be other guys going through similar stuff, right? It’s a big adjustment.” He grinned quickly. “When I travel overnight, I take my own pillow with me, that’s how much of a princess I am about change. So I can’t really imagine going through something this much bigger.”
Calvin leaned back against the counter and Zara wanted to hug him. He was making everything so much better, so much easier for both of them. She’d been a bitch earlier, bringing up Calvin’s decisions from the past. Whatever had happened back then had been between Calvin and Zane, and Zane was obviously fine with it. And now Calvin was here, helping, just because he cared about his old friend, and by extension, his old friend’s sister. He saw her looking at him and smiled at her, and she smiled back, and for a moment, everything made sense again.
Nine
WHEN CAL HAD returned to Lake Sullivan after getting his MBA, his parents had seemed to think he’d be moving back into his old bedroom at their house. He’d quickly disabused them of that notion but then they’d assumed he’d be eating dinner at their house most nights. He’d worked that down to every other Sunday. When he’d been visiting Zane regularly, he’d arranged it to be alternate weeks with the dinners and told himself he was visiting one prison one week and a different prison the next. Then he’d scolded himself for being so melodramatic.
But standing there in the front hall with his father glowering at him and his mother looking disappointed, he definitely felt trapped. The door he’d just entered through might not be locked, but it would be breaking a lot of rules if he used it to escape. Still, he was tempted, especially when his father jerked his head toward his study and said, “We should talk before dinner.”
Cal thought about objecting, but he knew it was pointless. And Michael hadn’t arrived yet, so if they could get this little chat wrapped up before he was there, at least Cal wouldn’t have to deal with brotherly smugness on top of everything else. So he followed his father into the study, settled himself reasonably comfortably in one of the leather club chairs, and accepted the drink his father offered him.
“Scotch already?”
“Absolutely,” his father replied, sinking stiffly into the chair on the other side of the fireplace. “Now, what’s this nonsense with you and the Hale girl?”
“There’s no nonsense. She’s a friend, her brother’s a friend—”
“Her brother’s a criminal!”
“And a friend.” Cal waited quietly as his father digested that.
Finally the older man said, “You’ve always had a soft spot for them, and I’ve never understood it. I used to think it was just your little rebellion, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Cal frowned. “Do you ask Michael why he’s friends with the people he’s friends with?”
“Michael is friends with people that make sense! People who share his background, his values—people who will contribute to his future.”
“I don’t like his values,” Cal said. He hadn’t really thought about it before he spoke, but once the words were out, they felt right. “I don’t want his future.”
“What do you want, Calvin?” It was an expression of frustration, not a real question.
And that was just as well, because Cal had no idea how to answer. He had a fuzzy image in his head, something with a bonfire and a guitar and the smell of burgers and the sounds of laughing children. Something with a strong woman speaking truths he needed to hear. In his imaginings, of course, the woman didn’t walk away from him after she spoke. No, she stayed, and leaned back into him and they soaked it all up together.
But he wasn’t going to get into any of that with his father. “I just want to live my life,” he said quietly. That was close enough.
“But you want to do it while working for my company.”
Cal couldn’t quite believe it was coming to this, but apparently his father was willing to push. So he shrugged. “At your company or somewhere else. I don’t remember ever applying for the job with the company. It was just assumed that I’d be working there. If you don’t think it’s a good fit anymore, let me know. I can find something else.”
And that was true, he realized. Sure, a job somewhere else would probably be more demanding. He’d have to prove himself rather than just coasting along. But maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe it was time for him to stop doing what was easiest and start doing what was best.
He was almost disappointed when his father shook his head. “There’s no need to get carried away. I don’t want to fire you over this. No, Calvin, I want you to start taking responsibility for your place in the family, not give you an excuse for running away.”
“My place in the family,” Cal mused out loud. “As determined by you and Michael?”
“You want to have a voice in it?” His father pushed himself to his feet with a sudden burst of energy. “That would be wonderful.” He set his glass down on the mantel and turned to face Cal head-on. “If you wanted to actually engage in what we’re trying to do with the company instead of fluttering around the edges with your community center or your other special projects, I think both Michael and I would be thrilled.”
“How did we go from talking about the family to talking about the company?”
“They’re the same thing, Calvin!”
Cal stared, and then stood up himself. “No. Not to me they’re not.” He took a few steps toward the door, then stopped and turned. “And I wouldn’t be so sure about Michael wanting me to be more a part of the company. Because I’m not much of a follower, Dad. You’re right, I’ve stayed on the edges of the company. I haven’t dived right into it. But if I did dive in? If I made the place my life, like he has? I wouldn’t be interested in being his loyal second-in-command. You know?”
It was a long time before his father responded. Too long. It made Cal realize that his father wasn’t upset by the idea of his sons fighting against each other for control of the company. His father liked the idea. “Healthy competition is a good thing,” the older man finally said.
“Good for a business maybe. But good for a family?” Cal waited for an answer, but didn’t get one. “I don’t agree that the company and the family are the same thing,” he said quietly. “And if I have to choose between them, I’ll do what’s good for the family.”
“And you think it’s good for the family for you to be spending time with these people?”
Cal snorted in surprise. He’d forgotten they were talking about the Hales and had to pull his mind back to that nonissue. “I don’t think it’s any of the family’s damn business,” he said firmly.
His father frowned as if he didn’t like that answer, but he didn’t reply. At least, not with words. Instead, he turned toward his desk. “I’ve got a little more work to do before dinner,” he said. “You run along and keep your mother company.”
It was clearly supposed to sting, the casual dismissal from the more important realm of men and business, but it was nothing Cal wasn’t used to. It was in no way upsetting to be banished, but it was a bit frustrating to realize that after almost thirty years as his father, the old man still didn’t know his son well enough to even insult him properly.
Cal found his mother in the living room, accepting a glass of wine from the new housekeeper’s tray. “Something for you?” the woman asked him.
Damn, he should know her name. Lenore had taken care of the house while he was growing up but had retired a few months earlier. This new woman . . . “I’m fine,” he said, although he wouldn’t have minded another scotch. It just didn’t seem right to accept anything from someone until he could remember her name.
“Thank you, Cleo,” his mother said. Just that tiny bit of extra emphasis on the housekeeper’s name, just enough to let him know he’d been caught. His father might not understand him, but his mom knew all his tricks.
He sank into an armchair next to the couch she was perc
hed on. The furniture in this room wasn’t really made for slouching, but he did his best anyway. His mother reached over and flicked his knee. “Sit up. And tell me what’s going on between you and your father. It’s not going to ruin dinner, is it?”
Mother code. She wasn’t all that worried about the meal, she just wanted to know how serious things were. If it was bad enough that the two of them wouldn’t be able to put on polite faces to get through Sunday dinner, she needed to intervene.
“I think we’ll be okay,” Cal said. “As long as Michael doesn’t start stirring it up.”
His mother was quiet for a long moment before she surprised him with a decidedly unladylike snort. He stared at her, and she said, “Well, really, what are the chances of Michael staying out of it?” A moment for him to realize she was right, and she added, “You’d better tell me about it. We can figure things out from there.”
Ten
ZARA HAD THOUGHT it would be safe to offer an adult women’s MMA class, assuming no one would be interested. But when she’d gone to check if the program had been cancelled, she’d been told it was at capacity. Twenty students for women’s MMA in Lake Sullivan?
Now, looking at her prospective students, Zara began to understand. Ashley Carlsen was there, probably just being supportive, and a couple other women who seemed relatively young and athletic. But the rest of them? “I think there’s been a mistake,” Zara said firmly. “We’ve got a self-defense course offered next month—that’s where you can learn about, like, how to break a hold and what kind of situations to avoid and all that. I think they’re even bringing in one of those big padded guys so you can practice hitting him. This is about Mixed Martial Arts. Like jiujitsu or karate or . . .” She stared at them, trying to find the words that they would understand. “Like boxing,” she said. “This is like a boxing class.”
The director from the previous visit was there, with a girl Zara assumed was her daughter, and she said, “Not just boxing, though, right? We’ll be kicking, as well?”
