The Way Back Home

by Barbara Freethy

  “It surprised me that Rob gave it to him,” her father admitted. “But it was his house to do with as he wanted, Alicia.”

  “I want proof that Rob actually gave him the house.”

  “Gabe claims he has a letter.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “Well, you know where Gabe is.”

  She frowned at her father’s uncaring shrug. “Why aren’t you more upset? That house has always been in the family.”

  He took a moment to answer. “Your brother respected Gabe. He told me so many times. And Gabe wants to help us. He said he’ll give the house back when he moves on.”

  “We don’t need his help.”

  “That’s not what you told me this afternoon. You said we needed manpower.”

  “I was talking about the business. Gabe knows nothing about rafting.”

  “He can learn.”

  “I don’t want him to learn. I want him to leave.”

  Her father’s gaze narrowed. “What’s really wrong, Alicia? Do you think Gabe let your brother die? Because I don’t believe that’s what happened.”

  “We don’t know what happened,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe you should ask Gabe.”

  “I already did. He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “So try again.” Her father grabbed his cane and slowly got to his feet. “You knew Rob better than anyone. If Rob sent Gabe to us, he had a good reason, and we should honor it.”

  “We don’t need Gabe,” she said, feeling a little desperate to get him to agree with her. The idea of Gabe living next door was too unsettling to contemplate.

  “Maybe Rob didn’t send Gabe here because we need him but because Gabe needs us.”

  Rob’s cabin was about two hundred yards from the main house through a thicket of trees that provided a wall of privacy. The cabin had a large main room with a stone fireplace and a smallish kitchen and dining room with windows overlooking the river. In the back was a bedroom, and up a narrow spiral staircase was a loft that Rob used for storing camping gear and tools.

  Standing in the middle of the living room, Gabe fought an intense desire to run. Everywhere he turned, he could see Rob: sprawled on the large red leather couch in the main room, spinning the old vinyl records that he’d collected since he was a boy, pounding the keys of the dusty piano. He could hear Rob’s laugh echoing through the silence and smell the overabundance of cologne that Rob used whenever he had a hot date.

  Sweating, he ran the back of his hand across his forehead. It had been three years since he’d been in this cabin. It had suited Rob perfectly, but it wouldn’t suit him. He didn’t belong in a small town living next door to a woman who hated his guts.

  It was just temporary, he told himself. Despite Rob’s plea that he take the house and finally make himself a home, he only intended to stay until he made sure that Alicia and her father would be all right. He didn’t know where he’d go after that, but it would be far, far away.

  As he glanced toward the window, he saw a slender figure moving through the trees, blond hair glinting in the moonlight. His gut tightened as Alicia crossed the lawn. Walking quickly across the room, he threw open the door and met her on the porch, sensing that letting her inside the house could be bad for many reasons.

  “Walking over here, I could see the lights on,” she said. “And it was the first time in months, and it made me remember …” Her voice trailed away. She squared her shoulders, then lifted her chin. “I’m going to need to see some evidence that Rob wanted you to be here. You said you had a letter.”

  “It’s in my bag, in the truck,” he said, tipping his head toward the dark gray truck in the driveway.

  “So get it.”

  The distrust in her eyes hurt, but he supposed he couldn’t blame her. “Okay.”

  He walked down the steps and across the grass. Alicia followed at his heels.

  As he opened the door, he said, “It didn’t look like anyone had been in the house for a while.”

  “I haven’t been in there since we found out Rob was dead,” she admitted. “I tried a few times. I walked up the steps, put my hand on the doorknob, even pushed it open, but I couldn’t make it across the threshold.” Her gaze drifted back toward the house, her voice quieting. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to go in there. It’s not like Rob was there all that much. I used to go in every couple of weeks and dust, air out the place, so it would be ready when he came home. I never imagined that he wouldn’t, that the next person I saw inside the house would be you.”

  “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you.”

  “It’s hard for me to breathe. Rob was my other half. We came into life together. We shared every birthday. When my mom left, Rob was there. And even when he wasn’t physically present, the connection between us was strong, unbreakable; only now it’s broken. When I think about all the years to come, and how much he’s going to miss …” She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t know how I’ll make it.”

  “You’ll make it because you have to, and because Rob would want you to be happy.”

  “He would, and I want that, too, because I have Justin, and he needs a mom who isn’t sad all the time.”

  “Give yourself a break. It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

  “I’m not sure time will make a difference.”

  He reached into the truck and unzipped a duffel bag on the seat. He pulled out a sealed envelope with her name on it. “Rob wrote this three days before he died.”

  “Why?” she asked, her fingers tightening around the edges. “Did he think he wasn’t going to make it back?”

  “Every day was dangerous. Now and then, men in the unit would rewrite wills or write letters to people they loved. It was a way of tying up loose ends so we could focus on what we had to do, knowing that everything was in order if the worst happened.”

  “But he’d gone on missions before. What was different about this one?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was because we were both getting out soon. The future was on his mind.”

  “Six days,” she said heavily. “Rob was six days short of never being in danger again.”

  His stomach twisted. “I know.”

  She looked into his eyes, pleading with him for something he didn’t think he could give her.

  “Was he in pain?” she asked softly.

  Her question was like a knife to the heart. Rob’s face flashed through his mind, the pain in his eyes, the blood on his face …

  Rob would want him to lie to Alicia. Gabe knew that as surely as he knew anything. He tried to think of something that would make her feel better. “Rob wasn’t alone, Alicia. I was with him until the last breath.”

  A tear slid out of the corner of her eye. “I’m glad for that.” She wiped the moisture from her cheek and stared down at the letter. “You didn’t read this?”

  “No. But he told me that he explained about the house in there. If he didn’t, then I guess you can kick me out. But I’ll still stay in town, and I’ll still try to help you.”

  She looked down at the letter as if it were a bomb about to destroy what was left of her life. The moments ticked by, the silence accentuated by the rush of the river and the song of the crickets. The night was getting darker as clouds slid across the stars and the tall trees threw long shadows on the ground.

  A shuffling sound in the woods made him stiffen.

  Gabe told himself it was nothing. His nerves had been too tight for weeks. He wasn’t in a war zone. There wasn’t an enemy behind every tree.

  Another snapping of branches.

  His heart raced. He needed to get a grip, but his palms were sweating, and he knew instinctively that something was off.

  When the crash came, he threw Alicia to the ground, covering her body with his. He was not going to watch another Hayden die.

  Three

  Alicia gasped for breath, her lungs crushed from the weight of Gabe’s body, her mind spinning from his rapid assault. Her head w
as inches from the tire of his truck, the pebbles from the driveway poking sharply through her shirt.

  “Stay down,” Gabe ordered in a hushed voice, his dark gaze scanning the grounds.

  He was tense, poised to act, and ready to do whatever it took to keep her safe. She knew that without a doubt; she also knew that he was overreacting. If she could just find her breath, she’d tell him so.

  Squirming beneath him, she finally got out, “Gabe.”

  “Don’t move. We’re in the shadows. They can’t see us,” he ordered.

  “That was just Sadie,” she said. “She knocked over the trash cans.”

  He stared down at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying. And maybe he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t there in that moment, she realized. He was somewhere else, somewhere far away, somewhere really dangerous.

  “The dog,” she added. “Gabe, it’s okay.”

  He drew in a breath, turning his head as Sadie came into view. The dog didn’t even see them, her attention distracted by a nice pile of dirt to dig through.

  Gabe let out a breath, then looked back at Alicia. He was so close, his lips just inches away from hers, his chest crushing her breasts, his legs entwined with hers. He shifted, the tension in his face easing as he came back to reality … and the wariness in his eyes was replaced with desire. She’d seen that look before, and her stomach flipped over.

  Three years, and she was suddenly right back where she’d been before—wanting him, needing him, knowing that it was crazy and reckless and not giving a damn.

  She didn’t know which one of them moved first, but suddenly, his mouth was on hers, his hand supporting her head, his fingers threading through her hair as he kissed her long and hard and deep. The emotions of the past few weeks and the sudden adrenaline rush of the past few moments were a dangerous combination. She didn’t want to think anymore. She just wanted to feel something other than sadness or anger. She ran her hands up his back, pulling him closer when he started to move away. She didn’t want him to go. She liked his weight on top of her, liked the feel of his hard body pressing her into the ground.

  But Gabe finally broke away with a muttered swear and scrambled to his feet. He stared down at her, his breath coming hard and fast, his expression unreadable in the shadowy light. After a tense moment, he held out his hand to her.

  She hesitated, then took it, his fingers closing around hers as he helped her to her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said shortly, letting go of her. “That was—that shouldn’t have happened.”

  She put a hand on the side of the truck to brace herself, feeling shaky and unsteady. Drawing in a couple of slow, deep breaths, she brushed the dirt from her jeans, giving herself a moment to regroup.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe asked.

  “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Neither was I.” She’d kept her fling with Gabe locked away in a dim, dark part of her memory, but now all of the feelings were back in bright, vivid color. And that wasn’t good.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Not if you leave, it won’t.”

  His jaw tightened. “That’s not happening.”

  “Why did you throw me to the ground?”

  He shrugged. “I heard a noise. I reacted.”

  “Overreacted,” she corrected.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I haven’t spent a lot of time out of war zones in the last few years. I guess I’m on edge.”

  Gabe might have survived the mission that had taken Rob’s life, but he obviously hadn’t come through completely unscathed.

  “What’s your dog after?” Gabe asked, tipping his head toward Sadie, who was digging fast and furiously under a bush.

  “I have no idea. She loves to dig. It’s all I can do to keep her out of my vegetable and herb garden.”

  “Golden retrievers and vegetable gardens,” he muttered cryptically. “I feel completely out of my element.”

  “You said they can’t see us. Who were you talking about?”

  “No one. Sorry if I hurt you when I threw you on the ground.”

  “You were protecting me.”

  “Yeah, from your dog,” he said, obviously striving for lightness.

  “But you didn’t know that.” A slash of white on the grass caught her gaze—Rob’s letter. She leaned over and picked it up, but she still didn’t feel ready to read her brother’s final words. “Until we get things sorted out, you can stay. There are clean linens in the hall closet. There’s no food, but you can come by for breakfast tomorrow morning. We’re up by seven. Justin goes to school at eight.”

  “Thanks, Alicia.”

  As she turned to leave, her father’s words rang through her head. “You said you came here to help us, but maybe you’re the one who needs help, Gabe. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

  “You don’t want to imagine it,” he said flatly. “And would you offer me help if I asked?”

  “Even if I did offer help, you wouldn’t take it. Rob used to tell me that you were the most stubbornly independent person he’d ever met. And from what I’ve seen, he was right on the money.”

  Gabe slowly smiled.

  “What?”

  “He used to say the same thing about you.”

  Alicia was up before the sun had made it over the trees. She’d spent most of the night thinking about Gabe and Rob and wondering what the hell had happened on the other side of the world. But those answers were going to be difficult to come by, and she needed to concentrate on the present.

  After a quick shower, she threw on jeans and a sweater over a tank top, let Sadie out for a morning run, woke up a sleepy Justin, and started the coffeemaker. Her father used to rise with the dawn, but since his accident, she rarely saw him before nine.

  While she was waiting for the coffee, she grabbed a basket and headed out back to her garden. She paused on the steps, looking with pride at what she’d created. Along one side of the beautiful garden were rows of herbs: basil, thyme, marjoram, and mint. On the other side, she’d planted tomatoes, squash, onions, carrots, beans, and a variety of lettuces and peppers. In a month, she would have enough produce to sell to the local inns and restaurants. But today she was content to pick a few beautiful tomatoes, some zucchini and spinach. She had just finished when the back door of the house opened and Gabe stepped out.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He wore faded jeans and a long-sleeved dark green T-shirt that accentuated his broad chest, the chest that had been crushing her breasts the night before. She drew in a quick breath and ordered herself to get it together. Last night had just been a moment of temporary insanity for both of them.

  “This is impressive,” Gabe said, glancing around the yard.

  A surge of pleasure ran through her. She’d started the garden two years ago, and in the last six months, since the accident, her hobby had become a passion. This was one part of her life that she could control. She could plant and water and make something grow and flourish. She’d needed the creative outlet when the rest of her life had been falling apart.

  “It’s still a work in progress,” she said as she walked over to meet him. “I’ve just about outgrown this space, and I have my eye on the area behind Rob’s cabin. I just need to do some clearing. In the meantime, we have fresh vegetables for breakfast.”

  “That’s not something I get every day.”

  She nodded. “When Rob used to come home, he craved fresh fruits and vegetables.”

  Justin stuck his head out through the doorway. “Mom, where’s breakfast?”

  “It’s coming,” she said, moving past Gabe. “I thought I’d make a veggie scramble.”

  “I’ll eat anything,” Gabe told her, following her into the kitchen.

  “Help yourself to some coffee,” she said as she set down her vegetables. “Justin, why don’t you set the table? And then you can mo
ve on to the toast.”

  “What can I do?” Gabe asked.

  “You can sit at the counter.”

  “You can make the toast if you want,” Justin offered.

  Gabe grinned. “At least someone in your family is happy to delegate.”

  She grabbed the bread and passed it across the counter. “Knock yourself out. Justin, do you have all your homework together?” She began dicing tomatoes and onions and whipping up eggs.

  “I think so,” Justin said.

  “Why don’t you make sure?”

  Justin muttered something under his breath and headed down the hall.

  “Your son doesn’t appear to be a morning person,” Gabe said. “Not like you.”

  “Guilty,” she admitted with a smile. “I love the stillness of dawn, the freshness of a new day, the air clean, the birds chirping. It’s a new beginning. Rob liked mornings, too. We were always the first ones up in the house. If my dad didn’t have an early-morning river run, he’d sleep till ten, so I was always in charge of breakfast. Rob hated to cook. When he was hungry, he had to eat right that second. He’d grab something out of the fridge and have half of it eaten by the time he got to the table. Or he’d just stand by the refrigerator and inhale something. I used to tell him that he’d never find a girl who’d want to put up with that …” Her voice trailed away. Rob would never share a moment like that with a wife. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, Justin takes after his father.”

  “Where is his father?” Gabe asked.

  “I have no idea. Connor doesn’t keep in touch.”

  “Not even with his son?”

  “Every now and then, he pops up when he’s between gigs.”

  “Sounds like a great guy.”

  “Actually, he’s a lot of fun. He’s just really irresponsible and immature. He wasn’t cut out to be a father.”

  “He should have thought of that before he got you pregnant.”

  “The condom broke,” she said, not wanting Gabe to think she was a complete fool. “It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. But we were both too young to be parents.”