by Witt, L. A.
“I was wrong,” I whispered. “And we’re sure as hell not getting anywhere without one.”
“That’s true.” She paused. “How do you want to do this? Skype?”
“Skype might not be enough.” I swallowed. “If it bothers the kids that I’m this far away, then maybe I need to come down there. So we can do this face-to-face.”
“Are you moving back?”
I glanced at Scott. “No. My job is still up here. But I can fly back and forth. I can easily be down there and back in a day.”
My ex-wife didn’t speak for so long this time, I though the line had cut off.
“Jackie?”
“I’m still here.” She sighed. “That’s going to get expensive.”
“I’ll manage.” I paused, my throat tightening. “Is, um . . . is Haley there?”
“Yes.”
Closing my eyes and gripping Scott’s hand, I took a deep breath. “Can you put her on?”
Jackie was silent again. I was ready for her to argue with me, to insist that Haley wasn’t ready to talk to me, but movement on the other end ratcheted up my pulse.
“Haley?” Her voice was slightly muffled. “Your dad wants to talk to you for a minute.” A response I couldn’t hear, but it was terse. Jackie then said, “Just for a minute.”
“Fine,” came the distant mutter. More movement. Then, “Hi.”
My stomach clenched. “Hey. Look, um . . . I know you don’t want to talk to me, so I’m going to talk this time. Will you just hear me out?”
The sharp huff was almost undoubtedly accompanied by rolling eyes. “Fine.”
I swallowed. Scott ran his thumb alongside mine, as if to remind me he was there. I glanced at him, and he gave me a subtle, reassuring nod.
I moistened my lips. “Listen, I know I hurt you and your brother, and—”
“And Mom,” she snapped.
Wincing, I said, “Yeah, and Mom. And I’m sorry.”
“You’re always—”
“Please, Haley,” I said softly. “Just hear me out.”
She said nothing, but she also didn’t hang up.
After a moment, I went on. “I made a lot of mistakes. A lot. And I know I can’t go back and change them, but I want us to get help. As a family. Because we are still a family. So, your mother and I are going to find a family counselor.”
“Are you coming back to California?”
I glanced at Scott again. “No. I . . . My job is here. But I will fly down so we can all see the counselor together.” I paused, forcing back the lump rising in my throat. “I’ll be down there as often as I can be, and I’ll go back and forth for as long as it takes. Can—” I swallowed again. I would’ve wiped my stinging eyes if I’d had a free hand, but no way in hell was I letting go of Scott. “Can you meet me partway?”
“Meet you partway?” she asked flatly. “What do you mean?”
“Just come to the counseling sessions and keep an open mind. That’s all I ask. I know this is hard for you and your brother. I’ve put you both through hell. But if you can do that much for me . . .” I ran out of words. Out of air.
Haley, please . . .
“You’ll really do that?” she asked, her voice even but almost impossible to read. “Fly down here just to go to counseling?”
“Absolutely.”
Silence. Long, painful silence punctuated by the pounding of my heart. I held my breath. I was pretty sure Scott did the same, even though I doubted he could hear much. My hand was sweating inside his, but neither of us let go.
Then Haley exhaled. “Okay.”
One word, and she damn near broke me.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess we’ll see if it helps.” Teenage indifference laced her tone, but didn’t quite mask the softness. That voice I hadn’t heard in way too long. As if, beneath that anger and cynicism, my little girl was still there.
“Okay.” I didn’t even try to mask the unsteadiness. “Your mom and I will make the arrangements.” I paused. “Thank you, Haley.”
“I guess . . . I guess I’ll see you soon?”
I closed my eyes, squeezing a hot tear free. “Yeah. As soon as possible.”
“’Kay. Do you want to talk to Mom?”
“Please.”
No “Good-bye,” no “I love you” from either end, but a conversation that ended without a click or a slamming door was a damned good start.
“It’s me,” Jackie said. “So, I guess she’s on board?”
“Yeah. She is.”
“Good. Well, if we’re going to do this, I can help with the airfare. It’s going to add up.”
“I don’t care about the money. I really don’t. I just . . .” My voice tried to crack, so I cleared my throat. “I want to fix this.”
“I know you do.” More silence. Finally, she took a deep breath. “If you’re willing to come down just to go to a counselor with them, I’ll make arrangements. And I think this whole thing will do the kids a lot of good.”
“I hope so,” I whispered. “I’ll call my boss on Monday. And let Anna know.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to get the time away?”
“I can use my days off. It’ll mean a long day, flying down and back, but if that’s what it takes . . .”
“Okay.” She exhaled. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do this.” She paused. “Thank you, Jeremy. For not giving up on them.”
“I couldn’t in a million years.”
“I know. But I also know this hasn’t been easy for you. I . . . I have to admit, I thought you were running away when you went to Washington, but—”
“I was,” I said. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was. I still have to work up here, but as much as I can, I want to come back to them.”
She released another breath. “Do you want me to make the arrangements, or—”
“Actually, I know someone up here who can help.” I squeezed Scott’s hand. “He’ll get us in touch with some colleagues in LA, and we’ll go from there.”
“Oh. All right. Well, let me know. Make the arrangements, and we’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
After I hung up, I leaned forward, elbows on my knees and hands sliding around the back of my neck. I didn’t break down, but a few tears escaped, especially when Scott wrapped his arms around me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” I whispered. “It’s . . . This is the first positive step we’ve had since the divorce.”
He put a hand between my shoulders and made slow, soothing circles. “This won’t happen overnight. It took a lot of years to get to this point, and it’ll probably take more to fix things. But I’ll help you find someone who can mediate. I’ll ask around. I’m pretty sure I can find some recommendations for you in LA.”
“Thank you.” I lifted my head and met his gaze. “For everything. I’m sorry I—”
He kissed me gently, but firmly enough to shut me up. “You’ve already apologized.” Looking into my eyes, he smiled and brushed his thumb across my cheekbone, catching one last stray tear. “We’re okay.”
More than anything else we’d said tonight, those two words hit me in the chest. We were okay, and I was a step closer to okay with my kids. I swallowed hard—I hadn’t realized how long I’d needed for something to be okay. For some hope that my kids and I could fix things. For a relationship that wasn’t just a strained prelude to an inevitable disaster.
We were okay. Maybe that meant I could be too. Even if it wasn’t today, it was possible. At this point, that was all I could ask for.
Scott’s thumb drew another soft arc across my cheekbone, and I realized the skin was wet. Had I started tearing up again? God, I hadn’t even noticed.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I smiled, though it was as a struggle, and sniffed sharply. “Just . . . a lot to process, I guess.”
He nodded. “If you need some time, just say—”
�
�I need you.” I lifted my chin to kiss him. “I mean, the fact that I need help getting through this with my kids, that’s not why I wanted you to come back. But I’m . . .” I swallowed. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
He smiled, cradling my cheek as he leaned in for another soft kiss. “I understand. And I’m happy to help as much as I can.” He drew back and met my gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here too. Just . . . us. This.”
I smiled again, and it didn’t take quite so much effort this time. He returned it.
I clasped his hand between both of mine. “It might be a while down the line, but I hope you can meet them eventually. I hope . . . they want to meet you.”
Scott brought my hands up and kissed the backs of my fingers. “We’ll get there. When they’re ready, and when you are.” He laughed shyly. “Is it too soon to be a little nervous about the prospect of being a stepparent?”
The perfectly innocent question almost killed what remained of my composure. What kind of idiot had I been to let this man walk away?
“God, I love you,” I whispered and pulled him in for a longer kiss.
He curved his hand over the top of my leg. When he broke the kiss, he smiled. “I love you too. I would’ve missed out on something really special if I’d stuck to my rule against dating cops.”
“Well, we both figured it out. Better late than never, right?”
“Exactly.” He grinned. “Why don’t we go get something to eat?” Squeezing my thigh, he added, “Then we can come back here and chill for the evening.”
“I like the sound of that.”
We both rose, and as we gathered keys and wallets, my stomach was fluttering, but my heart wasn’t racing. Everything still felt up in the air in a way, but at the same time, settled. As if the chaos wasn’t quite resolved yet, but it would be.
Scott was right—it would take time to heal my family. There was a lot of anger to sort through, a lot of grudges to cut loose, but maybe now we were on a path that would get us there. And while that slow process ran its course, while I racked up frequent-flier miles between here and LA, I’d finally have a chance to really be in love with someone.
There was a lot left to work through, but a huge weight had already lifted off my shoulders.
With time, with patience, and with Scott by my side?
I had no doubt the rest would follow.
The End.
Stuck Landing
About Stuck Landing
For months, acclaimed Wolf’s Landing director/producer Anna Maxwell has been nursing a crush on Natalya Izmaylova, a former Russian gymnast and current Wolf’s Landing stunt coordinator. When Anna witnesses Natalya’s very public breakup with her boyfriend, she can’t resist inviting her over for drinks to commiserate about love and all that nonsense. Commiseration doesn’t last long, and soon Anna’s in bed with the hottest woman she’s ever touched, living out fantasies she didn’t even know she had.
Despite the amazing sex, Anna wants to proceed with caution. They’re both newly single. They’re colleagues. And there’s the not-so-small matter of Anna’s biphobia.
Natalya won’t commit to someone who clings to ridiculous stereotypes, but they can’t avoid each other at work, and there’s no ignoring their chemistry. Anna’s defenses are slowly eroding, and Natalya is willing to give her another chance. But Natalya only has so much patience, and even scorching-hot sex won’t keep her coming back forever. If Anna doesn’t come to her senses soon and let go of her prejudices—not to mention her insecurities—she’s going to lose the woman of her dreams.
This book was previously published.
Chapter 1
I’m coming by tomorrow to p/u my stuff.
My girlfriend’s text message—your ex-girlfriend, idiot—made me long for the days of flip phones. Dropping my cell into the cup holder wasn’t nearly as satisfying without first slamming the little bastard shut.
From the driver’s seat, my bodyguard, Jeremy, glanced at the phone. “Leigh?”
“How’d you guess?” I rubbed my eyes. “I can’t wait until all this shit is really over.”
“I wish I could tell you it ends overnight.” He shrugged as he pulled into the gym parking lot. “Unfortunately, after you’ve been together that long . . .”
I groaned. “If she’d agree to it, I’d just toss a match in the place so we could both start over fresh.”
“Tempting, isn’t it?” He parked and killed the engine. “It does end, though. Promise.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I grabbed the phone, but didn’t look at the screen. Instead, I shoved it into my pocket as Jeremy and I got out of the car. I’d respond to the message later. For now, I needed to blow off some steam after a long week on set. The next season had just started, and though the episodes currently filming had other directors at the helm, I had plenty to keep me busy.
With Jeremy on my heels, I headed into the gym. The instant I stepped through the tinted glass door, I was hit with the familiar pungent smells of sweat, metal, disinfectant, and more sweat. After this long, it didn’t bother me anymore. It just made my brain shift gears from work, work, work to time to sling some iron! My pulse ratcheted up. I hadn’t drunk my preworkout supplement yet, but I was definitely psyched for this. Probably because I hadn’t been here in a few days.
It wasn’t super crowded today, thank God. I quickly scanned the room. The squat racks and benches were occupied, but no one was using the leg press, and there was plenty of room by the dumbbells. Besides the people at the squat racks, everyone seemed to be doing upper body, which was perfect. It was leg day for me.
Jeremy stayed outside the locker room while I went in to change clothes. When I came out—nearly vibrating from the preworkout I’d just drunk—he fell into step with me and stayed hot on my heels while I started my routine. As always, he was close but out of the way, though he never hesitated to step in when I needed a spotter. As much as having a bodyguard annoyed me, it did have its perks sometimes.
As I warmed up with some kettlebell swings, I kept thinking about that text message I still hadn’t replied to. This thing with Leigh was exhausting. The relationship had been more tiring than my job, and the breakup wasn’t much better. At least we’d finally split. We could not possibly have drawn things out any further. What a waste of time and energy.
Well, at least some good had come out of it: our attempt at counseling had put Jeremy in the crosshairs of a therapist in the office. They’d started dating, and the guy had even helped Jeremy find a counselor of his own to work out the postdivorce mess with his ex-wife and kids. Jeremy had recently started going to LA twice a month for family sessions. It was too early to tell if it was working, but he’d been a lot less tense, so I was optimistic. And if slowly crashing and burning with Leigh had had any silver lining at all, I was happy.
Maybe there was even a silver lining in it for me. Well, if nothing else, my throat hurt less these days. Fewer screaming matches had that effect. So that was a plus. And I wasn’t so stressed out going up my own driveway anymore, wondering what kind of petty or not-so-petty fight awaited me. Just a house that was too big for one person. Too big, too empty, too full of echoes of—
“What is your fucking problem?” The man’s shout made everybody jump. About half a dozen people wearing earbuds, myself included, popped them out and looked around.
“My problem?” came the sharply accented response, and my head snapped toward the squat rack where a man and a woman faced off.
It wasn’t just any couple. I’d seen the guy around the set, though his name escaped me at the moment, but the woman was one I’d recognized as soon as I’d heard that Russian accent—Natalya Izmaylova, the take-no-shit stunt coordinator of Wolf’s Landing and owner of the most gorgeous ass I’d ever seen.
Oblivious to the stares they’d drawn—and me shamelessly ogling her—Natalya stabbed a finger at her boyfriend’s chest. “My problem is that you’ve—”
“Oh forget it.” The guy threw up h
is hands, nearly smacking her in the process. “I’m—”
“Excuse me?” She snatched his arm and got right up in his face, sending him back half a step. “You ever raise a hand to me, and I will—”
“I wasn’t raising a hand to you.” He wrenched his arm free. “Fucking psycho.”
“Bullshit you weren’t,” she snarled.
“You’re making a scene,” he said in a stage whisper. With the two of them fighting in it, the squat rack resembled a shark cage, only with the shark on the inside.
Watch it, dude. She will eat you alive.
“I’m making a scene?” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, and I swore everyone in the room inched back, including the man in front of her. “Well, it’s going to turn into a much bigger scene if you don’t get the fuck out of here. I’m done with you.”
“Whatever, bitch.” He lifted his hand a little like he was going to make some animated gesture in her face. Evidently, he thought better of it, though, and stormed off without another word.
Jeremy and I exchanged glances. He watched the guy go, and from the way his eyebrows came down slightly, he wasn’t checking him out.
Fuck with her again, dude. I dare you.
I shifted my attention back to Natalya. She didn’t give a second look to all the people who were staring at her. She shoved an earbud back in, ducked under the barbell she’d positioned at shoulder height on the squat rack, and went on lifting as if nothing had ever happened.
And as she did her squats, coming down almost all the way to the floor, I let myself stare—and not because of the scene with her boyfriend.
God. That ass.
Jeremy cleared his throat.
I glanced at him, and he snickered.
“Oh, bite me.” I rolled my eyes. “I saw you checking Ari out this morning.”
He shrugged. “Guilty.”
“That’s what I thought. Don’t make me tattle on you to Scott.”
“Go ahead. Only reason he’d get mad is I didn’t get a picture this time.”
