by Edie Claire
Teagan agreed, and she and the detective hung up. Her fingers were so stiff she could barely manage the buttons, but she stayed on the porch another minute anyway, shivering and cursing. She knew that the detective had only been so forthcoming because he assumed her to be Jamie’s caseworker. But she wasn’t Jamie’s social worker anymore, not technically. Her responsibilities didn’t extend outside the hospital. She was only doing what she was doing because Jamie was her friend.
Which meant that she could stop anytime.
Teagan cursed again. She would do everything she could to protect Jamie, there was no question of that, for any number of reasons. But she hated that harboring Jamie was putting her own family in danger—however theoretical that danger might be. She hated that her own stupid mistakes today had increased that threat. She hated the misogynist monster who had left a beautiful young woman bleeding and unconscious in the snow. But most of all, she hated that despite Jamie’s seemingly genuine regret over crossing the line with Eric, she herself could not... quite... get past it.
She slept with him.
That was years ago!
She tried to kiss him in your own house just yesterday! Don’t be naive...
She explained that. What kind of friend are you?
Teagan beat her frozen palms against her temples, then reached for the door. Her psychoanalysis of herself would accomplish nothing if she died of hypothermia in the process. She stepped inside and removed her wraps, then moved instinctively toward the kitchen.
Jamie stood in the dining room, her coat and mittens still on. She was staring at the wall of family pictures—one of way too many things in the house that remained unchanged since Eric’s grandparents had lived here. Teagan and Eric did have other plans for the dining room—and in fact, the whole house—they just never seemed to get around to doing them.
Teagan stepped to Jamie’s side and followed her eyes. She was looking at the portrait of four generations.
“I never asked Eric about his family,” Jamie said softly. “And I wouldn’t tell him about mine.”
Teagan tried hard not to bristle. They were the first words Jamie had spoken in almost an hour; Teagan could hardly snap at her about the subject of Eric being off limits.
“He said he loved me,” Jamie continued, clearly more to herself than to Teagan. “But I didn’t answer back. I never did when guys told me that. Usually I didn’t believe them; I figured they were just after sex. But even if they were telling the truth—and Eric’s the only one I think might have been, looking back—I didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t try to. I didn’t want to be in love.”
Teagan was no longer cold. Her blood was increasing the ambient temperature of the room. She clenched her jaws tight, fighting the urge to speak... among other things.
“I don’t know why I acted like that,” Jamie continued, seemingly oblivious to Teagan’s presence, much less her distress. “I always used to dream of being part of a big family. Not a makeshift family with kids who came and went along with support checks, but a real family, where everybody loved each other. Funny thing, though. Even after I grew up, I didn’t picture myself as the mother of the family. I was always still one of the kids.”
She turned and looked at Teagan. Her golden eyes brimmed with moisture. Her face contorted with pain even as she forced a smile. “I’ve been thinking... maybe I never really did grow up?”
Teagan opened her mouth to dispense the professional words of wisdom she was so terribly good at. But nothing came out.
“This thing you and Eric have,” Jamie continued. “I don’t understand how you get that. Until now, I didn’t understand why you’d even want it. One guy, a bunch of strings, expectations... it never appealed. I used guys to get what I wanted, and they did the same. But this...” She raised her hand to the family portrait and loosely traced the outline of the baby with a fingertip. “This is a whole other ballgame, isn’t it? This is being somebody to somebody. It’s... real life.” Her eyes narrowed in concentration. “And I want it.”
Teagan drew a shuddering breath. She could see the wheels turning in Jamie’s take-charge brain, and the sight wasn’t pretty. The assault and all its ramifications had increased Jamie’s self-awareness, obviously. But Teagan got the sinking feeling that, if Jamie was indeed considering a change in life goal, she was planning to approach it with the same methods she’d always used: attack and conquer. Fine for education and job hunting... less than optimal for marrying and having children.
Words failed her. “Jamie,” she began uncertainly, “marriage and family are wonderful, but they’re not something you can just decide to go out and make happen—”
She broke off as Jamie’s face drew into a scowl, her gold eyes blazing. “You don’t think I deserve it! Do you?”
Teagan was taken aback. “That’s not what I said!” she defended hotly. “I was just trying to explain that good relationships take—”
“Of course you have all the answers! You always did!” Jamie fired back. “Teagan knows everything. Teagan does everything the right way, all the time! And it’s all because of her brains and her moxy, of course—not because her mother lived, or because her grandparents loved her, or because she’s got a whole damned second family to bake her turkeys at Thanksgiving! Well, let me tell you, Little Miss Save the World, I’ve got brains, and I’ve got moxy, and I wound up left for dead with no one even missing me! Is that fair? And yet you think you deserve all this... and I don’t!”
“I never said that!” Teagan shouted, even as warning bells went off in her head. Her rational brain told her that Jamie wasn’t really angry at her—just at the entire lousy situation—but that didn’t make the personal attack any less infuriating. If it was truth time, so be it. “You can be jealous of me if you want to, but the truth is, if you’re alone now, it’s your own damned fault! Love and friendship are two-way streets, and you just said you never even tried to care about anyone else! So if you’re so damned smart, what did you think was going to happen?”
Teagan’s cell phone rang. She would have ignored it, but she knew the ring. It was her supervisor at the hospital. She broke away from Jamie’s livid stare, moved out into the hall, and answered it.
“Teagan, we have an emergency,” the woman’s voice stated calmly.
“I’m not on call.”
“I know that. And I’m sorry. But Lisa had to leave twenty minutes ago. She’s got a GI bug and was throwing up in the office. Rosalie is supposed to cover for her, and she’s due to start her own shift in two hours anyway, but I haven’t been able to reach her. Her phone is dead. And the hospital is desperate—they’ve got two rape victims in the ER, one’s a domestic and needs shelter immediately, and the other’s apparently in hysterics. I’d go in myself, but Ray and I are up in Altoona. There’s nobody else I can call and the nursing staff’s already short.”
Teagan looked around for Jamie. She had apparently headed for the bathroom. Teagan closed her eyes and drew in a long, slow breath. Maybe the two of them could use some space.
“Fine, I’ll go in.”
The relief in the other woman’s voice was palpable. “Thank you. I’m looking up an alternative number for Rosalie—if I reach her, I’ll send her in to take over as soon as possible.”
Teagan agreed and hung up the phone. She walked to the closed door of the half bath. “I have to go back in to work,” she said flatly. “Just for a couple hours, maybe less.” She briefly summarized the discussion she’d had with the detective, including his warnings. “Will you be all right?” There was no answer for several seconds. “Jamie?”
“I’ll be fine!” the familiar voice said hotly.
Teagan bit back any retort. She grabbed her things and headed for the front door. As she shut it behind her, she thought she heard a noise coming from the bathroom: the sound of muffled crying.
She decided it was just the wind.
Not until she opened the door of her garage did she realize she had no car. Luckily,
since Eric had caught a ride to lawyerball with a friend, his was available. She backed it out into the driveway, then let it idle a moment with the heater running. She hadn’t talked to her husband all day. He was still asleep when she had left with Jamie; he had sent her a text later saying he was off to his game, but she had been too distracted to answer it. He still knew nothing about the car accident.
She drew out her phone and dialed.
He picked up almost immediately, sounding breathless. “Hey, good timing. You caught me on the bench. Where have you been?” In the background she heard the distinctive bounce of a basketball, along with the squeaking of shoes and the heavy pounding of feet. “Any progress with Jamie?”
The sound of his voice initially soothed her, as always, but the mention of his ex quickly ruined the effect. “She remembers where she worked and where she lived, and the detectives are going over there today,” Teagan reported. The rest, she didn’t feel like talking about. “Listen, my car got banged up—some idiot who didn’t know how to drive in the snow. We’re fine, but the Corolla is stuck at a garage, and I have to go back into work for a couple hours to cover an emergency. You mind if I take your car?”
She heard one of the other men shout his name. The phone was muffled for a moment as she heard him shout something back, then after a few seconds, the background noise diminished. “You were in an accident?” he said with concern. “Where? Are you sure you’re okay? How did you get home?”
The edge of hurt in his last words made her feel worse, if possible, than she already did. Eric respected her independence, but he was also a man—which meant he enjoyed being leaned on once in a while. And once in a while, she was happy to indulge him. But not today. She gave the minimum necessary explanation of both the crash and the situation with Jamie, including the detective’s warnings about the risk to the family. “I feel terrible about that,” she admitted ruefully. Then she added without forethought, “I’m thinking maybe I should move her to a shelter after all.”
There was a long silence, during which Teagan’s insides churned uncomfortably. So, she had said it. Jamie’s being in the house was a legitimate safety concern.
Wasn’t it?
“Do whatever you think is best,” Eric responded, his tone unreadable.
Unaccountably, Teagan’s anger flared. “You don’t think I should move her?”
“It doesn’t matter to me either way,” he insisted. “Why are you upset?”
“I’m not—” Teagan closed her mouth. She ran a hand through her tousled hair and realized she was heading to work in jeans and a fleece top. She swore silently. Never mind. She’d throw on somebody’s lab coat. Just let them try and fire her over it.
“Teagan,” Eric said more seriously. “Is everything okay?”
The sounds she’d heard from the bathroom reverberated in her ears. Jamie had been crying. She knew it, and she’d left anyway. Her own eyes burned with moist liquid, but she refused to give in to the urge. Everything was fine. Nothing had changed. What was she so upset about?
“Did you tell Jamie you loved her?”
The words shot out of her mouth involuntarily. She hadn’t wanted to say them at all, but the accusation was like vomit. It was coming out whether she liked it or not.
“What?”
“Oh hell, Eric, I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “Everything that’s happened today—and yet, this is what gets me. You told me it was a physical thing, that you didn’t have strong feelings for her. She says you told her you loved her. I know it’s stupid, but... I just want to understand! Did you say that, or not?”
Teagan felt so pathetic, she wanted to crawl under the car seat. But dammit, she had to know. One of them was lying to her. It had to be Jamie. It just had to.
Eric exhaled roughly. “I thought we settled all this, Teagan. Did I imagine last night? Were you there?”
She closed her eyes with a wince. She had been there, all right. The most fabulous make up in the history of marriage. And now, this. “Please. Just answer me.”
His voice lowered to a growl. “I told you the truth. It was primarily a physical thing. But at the time, I thought it was love. I didn’t know any better because I didn’t recognize the real thing until I met you. Satisfied?”
Tears escaped her eyes and started down her cheeks. In the background over the phone, she heard a man’s voice calling. “I’ve got to go,” Eric said gruffly.
“I—” she began. But the line went dead.
He had not even said goodbye.
She groped for a tissue, dried her face, blew her nose. She had to get a grip. She was needed in the ER. There were two women there in far worse shape than she.
She put away her phone and backed downhill out of the driveway.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jamie emerged from the bathroom, wandered into the living room, and collapsed on the couch.
So, she insisted to herself, she had cried her eyes out. What of it? Other women did it regularly, and with far less provocation. Some philandering bastard had seduced her with his wealth and tried to murder her, she couldn’t go back to her bloodstained apartment because he might try to kill her again, and she had just reamed out the only real friend she’d ever had for no particular reason that she could remember.
She could cry if she damn well felt like it.
If there was one good thing that had come out of her being assaulted and left for dead, it was her reunion with Teagan. Now their friendship was ruined. She had told Eric that if Teagan knew the truth, the women could never put it behind them—and she had been right. Teagan couldn’t even talk about the subject without freaking. It had been the same all Jamie’s life. Men always got in the way.
And it was always her fault that they did.
A small smile escaped her lips. There, now. Maybe nearly dying did have another upside—she had gained perspective. Teagan’s assessment had been spot on, as usual. If there was no one out there who cared about her, it was her own damned fault. Who out there had she bothered to care about?
Richard?
Her smile broadened. Although they weren’t terribly close, she did like Richard very much, and he seemed to like her. He would have reported her missing, might even have come to the hospital, if he had known. But she was under no illusions as to why their relationship worked as well as it did. Richard wasn’t attracted to her, so there was no flirting, no tension. And since he wasn’t interested in straight men, there was no competition, either.
Jamie had never taken the time or the effort to cultivate true friendships. She had always considered herself too busy; the effort too draining. Besides, she had always had Fantasy Teagan. Omnipresent and undemanding. The perfect, caring friend who was always out there, somewhere.
Until now.
Jamie’s eyes strayed to the ceiling. It had water stains. The whole room, in fact, smelled a bit musty. And no wonder: this old part of the house had been built nearly a hundred years ago. She settled back into the couch cushions with a smile that was bittersweet. She would take this house in a heartbeat, must, dust, and all. It practically screamed “family.”
If she’d never met Eric, she and Teagan would be as close as ever and she could have become a regular fixture here. If she’d been a better person when she met him, she might be living here herself.
Stop that.
She frowned. She did still think about Eric, and what might have been. In the suspended time of her fantasies, he wasn’t connected with Teagan, or with anyone else. But in the real world he was a married man, which ruled him out no matter who he was married to. The fact that was he with Teagan ruled him out all over again, regardless of whether they were married. So why could she not stop thinking about him?
Perhaps, she thought dispiritedly, because he was the most tender, the most affectionate, the most genuinely nice guy she had ever dated.
And on a day like today, he was exactly the kind of man whose arms she would like to fall into.
The doo
rbell rang. Jamie started and sprang to her feet, but her vision began to black out. She sat back down a moment. Realizing she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, she rose again, slowly, and walked to the door. Her hand was on the knob and starting to turn when she remembered Teagan’s warnings. She stopped and looked through the peephole. A tall, thin man with wild black eyebrows glared back at her while holding up a badge from the Allegheny County Police Department. “Detective Musser,” he said brusquely. “I need to talk to Jamie Fukas.”
She opened the door and admitted him into the living room. “I’m Jamie,” she said shortly, bristling at his mispronunciation of her surname. Though relatively few people ever had the occasion to pronounce it, it had not escaped Jamie’s notice that she heard the short u sound more often from men. The probable Freudian slip never failed to set her teeth on edge.
“I’ll keep this brief,” he said, not bothering to sit down. “We’ve got a unit at your apartment now. Looks like there’s no question you were assaulted at that location and then moved to the park. The place is also crawling with prints. We got yours at the hospital, so we should be able to run the others pretty quick. What I need is a list of other people who’ve been in your apartment recently. Particularly the men.”
Jamie’s jaws clenched. She didn’t think the detective meant to be insulting. But she was in no mood. Her legs were tired, and she wanted to sit down. Who interviewed a crime victim standing up? Teagan would never treat a client like that.
She stepped away from him and dropped into a recliner. He could sit if he wanted to; she didn’t care. “I don’t completely remember the last month or so,” she said stiffly. “But I can’t remember anyone else being in my apartment except the man I was—” she broke off. Her face had reddened, which made her even angrier. “Except for the man I was unfortunately dating. I liked to keep my place private.”
“Surely you had women friends over?” he said skeptically.
Jamie’s heart pounded. Was he trying to torment her? “No. Not that I remember.”
