The Hero's Redemption

by Janice Kay Johnson

  On a spurt of anger, she asked, “Is that what you think? I’m desperate?”

  The slowness of his response told her everything she needed to know. “Of course not.”

  She stood abruptly, grabbing her plate, and went to the sink. After scraping the casserole she hadn’t eaten into the garbage, she rinsed the plate and put it in the dishwasher. Then she faced him, glad of the physical distance she’d opened.

  “When?”

  “Am I leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not right away. I have a couple more days’ work at Lottie’s. I’ll need to find a place to stay. Apply for jobs.” His face particularly expressionless, he said, “Unless you want me to go now.”

  “Definitely not.” She sounded almost brisk. “That would be silly.”

  “It’s time for me to buy a car.”

  “If you need me to drive you to look at any, let me know.”

  Cole kept watching her. “Erin, I need to make it on my own. Regain some dignity, if that’s possible. If I could—” Wondering if that was torment she saw in his eyes, she waited, but he didn’t finish.

  If he could, he’d never leave her? Oh, sure. In another mood, she might have laughed. Face it, she was too damaged for anyone to want to take on, especially a guy with problems of his own. What he’d said was even truer for her. She didn’t know who she was anymore.

  The sex? He was right; she had been desperate. He was a guy, probably thought, Why not?

  “Use my computer to look at Craigslist,” she suggested. “You can probably get a better deal on a car direct from an owner than in a lot.”

  “I could go to the library.”

  “No, that’s fine. I have things to do. Let me get the laptop for you.”

  When she brought it to him a minute later, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t eaten another bite, either. Without comment, she set the laptop on the table, to one side.

  “Erin?” This voice had been run through a rock tumbler. “It may only be a few days, but... Can I stay with you?”

  * * *

  HE WAS BEGGING. That was what she’d brought him to. But he couldn’t help himself. The idea of never kissing her again, never hearing her passionate cries, never losing himself in her body...

  She stared at him, not moving, not reacting.

  I should have kept my mouth shut.

  What, he shouldn’t have told her he was moving out until he was packed and ready to throw his duffel in his car? he asked himself incredulously. No. Just...no. This was bad enough. He couldn’t leave her thinking everything was fine until the last possible minute.

  “You mean, you want to continue sleeping with me.”

  He winced, unable to tell if her tone was caustic, or just disbelieving. Maybe he was an asshole, wanting to keep having sex until he took off, even though he had pretty much ditched her.

  “I want every minute with you I can have,” he said, voice thick. “I wish—” He strangled the rest of that sentence, aching because he had to leave her. And yet, that wasn’t something he had any right to say.

  Erin turned her face away; when she looked back at him, tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “I want every minute I can have with you, too,” she said, so quietly he barely heard her.

  A fireball exploded in his chest. He was on his feet and across the kitchen, pulling her into his arms before he even knew he intended to move. As desperate as he was, he lost the ability to be gentle, to do anything but take. He had her up against the refrigerator in seconds, her thigh lifted so he could grind himself against her. If she fought him... But she didn’t. In fact, she hooked an arm around his neck so she could hoist herself up, and her other hand slid under his T-shirt so her fingers could dig into his back.

  He wanted her shirt off, but he would have to step back to get it over her head and he wasn’t willing to do that. Instead, he released her bra clasp, for what good that did when he couldn’t have squeezed a hand between them.

  He wanted her now. Here. But damn, she wore jeans and athletic shoes. He’d have to kneel to strip her.

  Condom. Shit. He no longer carried any in his wallet. He’d stowed the box of condoms in her bedside drawer. They had to get upstairs.

  Cole hadn’t carried her since the first time, but he did now. Without protest, Erin wrapped her legs around his waist and kept kissing his jaw, his neck. She nibbled his earlobe, whispered, “Hurry.”

  In her bedroom, he yanked her shoes off, then her jeans and panties. Pushed her shirt up enough to suckle her breasts even as he fumbled to unzip and free himself. He paused only to scrabble for a condom and put it on before he drove into her hard enough to shove her across the bed.

  Too hard.

  But she said, “Yes,” and clawed at him.

  With no tenderness at all, only fierce hunger, he rode her until her body arched and her spasms gripped him. Then he let himself go.

  Somehow, he managed to roll over when all the strength left his body. Couldn’t crush her.

  Please don’t let me have hurt her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  IN THE NEXT few days, Erin did take Cole to look at several cars he’d found for sale online. Helping him take this step to leave her felt bittersweet, yet she treasured every minute they had together.

  After going for a short drive in a 2004 Toyota pickup and taking a long look under the hood, he stood for some time bargaining with the owner. The truck had 130,000 miles on it; the yellow paint bore some scratches and dings and the bed was heavily dented.

  He strolled over to where she waited to tell her he was going to buy it.

  “That’s a lot of miles.”

  “Runs well, though, and there’s no reason it can’t go 200,000 miles.”

  A couple of minutes later, the owner signed and dated the release of ownership part of the title and handed it to him. In turn, he counted out the cash, took the key, and said to Erin, “I’ll see you at home.”

  Twenty minutes later, he parked his acquisition in front of the house beside her Cherokee and got out, smiling.

  “I can work on an engine this age if I have to. There’s not as much that requires computer diagnostics.”

  She made a face at him. “If you say so.”

  As they walked toward the house, he added, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll register the sale and get the license.” Despite his smile, he didn’t sound as satisfied as she’d expected.

  Because he knew, as she did, that having his own transportation took him a long way to being ready to start his new life? The one that didn’t include her.

  She’d come to empathize with the salmon snatched from the river by bald eagles. That was what this dread felt like—the biting grip of talons.

  “There’s an office right in town,” she said, proud of how casual she sounded.

  “I’ve seen it.”

  He could go tomorrow, because yesterday he’d finished the job for Lottie Price. Erin knew he had asked her for a recommendation, which he’d added to a file folder that already held three other glowing recommendations, including the one she’d written for him. She also knew he’d applied online for several jobs, and had called area contractors to find out if they had openings.

  He never said when he got a turndown, but she could tell from his stone face. Each time, she was as mad as she’d been that day at the hardware store, when she saw his stoic acceptance. That she also felt secret relief because he wouldn’t be leaving yet wasn’t something she let him see.

  That night, for the first time since he’d started sleeping with her, Erin had a nightmare. Staring eyes. Hands grasping for her. She knew she’d screamed because her throat felt sore when she awakened, sitting bolt upright in bed. Arms came around her, and she fought until the nightmare images faded.

 
Swearing as he tugged her down beneath the covers, Cole said, “Damn, that’s a shot of adrenaline.”

  “Bet you won’t miss this,” she mumbled.

  Neither of them said another word after that. With his arms still around her, she did eventually fall asleep again. He was definitely asleep the next time she opened her eyes, the light outside a gray that gradually brightened.

  Erin didn’t move, needing to hold on to these minutes. His heartbeat, the rise and fall of his powerful chest, the lick of flame reaching up his neck.

  She never woke up to find they’d separated during the night. Whenever he changed his position, he obviously rearranged hers, too. And even asleep, she apparently didn’t want to lose contact with his big, warm, solid body. She hadn’t slept as well in a very long time—until last night.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall in case they woke him up. When she eventually felt him stir, she slipped out of bed. By the time she showered and emerged from the bathroom, he’d gotten dressed and gone downstairs.

  He was beating something in a bowl when she reached the kitchen. Scrambled eggs?

  “French toast,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I liked it when you made it, and we have that loaf of sourdough bread.”

  “Yum.”

  Aching inside, she couldn’t help watching this big, muscular, incredibly sexy man in the kitchen, deftly turning battered toast and transferring it to a plate.

  Not until he’d served them both and they’d taken a few bites did he say, “I have an appointment in Marysville this morning to look at a basement apartment. It’s not great, but it is cheap and furnished.”

  Erin nodded without looking up. He must have made that appointment before they went to bed last night.

  Cole didn’t immediately resume eating. “You okay this morning?”

  “Okay?” She finally lifted her head. “Oh, you mean after the nightmare. Sure.” She smiled and waved a forkful of French toast. “This is good.” It smelled wonderful, even if her taste buds were numb.

  “What are you up to this morning?” he asked after a while.

  “Don’t know. I’ll figure it out after I have some coffee.”

  He nodded, not quite looking at her.

  Neither said much after that. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when he decided to shower at the apartment, and left without coming back to the house.

  Erin cleaned up the kitchen, getting madder and madder even as her desolation grew. Why hadn’t he gone the night he told her he intended to, right after that cop came looking for him? He would’ve saved her a world of hurt. He shouldn’t have taken the job for Lottie Price, she thought, steaming. If he’d left back then, a month ago, she might be well into recovery, instead of feeling as if quicksand was sucking her under.

  Looked like she’d parked her pride in the garage and thrown away the key. She’d let him use her this week. Wanting to have every minute she could with him before he moved on? Bad decision, even self-destructive. Had the same impulse that impelled her to speed recklessly also pushed her to hurt herself in another way? She couldn’t know, but...when he got home, she’d tell him he needed to stay in the apartment until he had someplace to go.

  Now, alone, she let the tears stream down her face and thought, I’m done.

  * * *

  COLE HAD JUST left the freeway at the northern exit for Marysville when his phone rang. He was so startled he jerked the wheel and came close to climbing the curb. Damn.

  He steered into a gas station parking lot and checked the phone. Local number he didn’t know. Please, not a cop.

  “Cole here,” he said cautiously.

  “My name’s Tom Phillips. Got an application you emailed yesterday.”

  His heart took a hard thud. “Yes, sir.” Would the man have called to say, Why did you waste my time?

  “I’m at a job site in Arlington. Any chance you can run out here so we can talk?”

  “Sure, no problem. Where is it?”

  “You have GPS?”

  “Not in my old truck. But if you give me directions, I’ll find it.”

  Call over, he sat stunned. An interview. A chance.

  Maybe the guy hadn’t noticed the answer to “Have you been convicted of a crime?”

  Nobody ever seemed to miss that.

  Cole called the guy about the apartment in Marysville and explained that he had a job interview. He’d call back when he could make it. He could hear the shrug when the owner said, “At this price, it won’t last long. Your loss.”

  That might be true. It was the first real apartment, versus a room for rent, that he’d thought he could afford. On the other hand, from the pictures on Craigslist it looked like a pit. And if he got hired for a real job, one with the kind of wages paid for skilled construction workers, he could afford a step up from that place. Depending on where this Phillips guy had jobs, Marysville might not be ideal, anyway.

  Don’t get too excited.

  Cole sat for another few minutes before he felt calm enough to drive.

  Twenty minutes later, he turned past stone gateposts to find paved streets with curbs and sidewalks curving through raw land, logged and then stripped of any vegetation by bulldozers. Unless each house was going to be on acreage, this would be a monster development. It also couldn’t be more than six or seven miles from West Fork.

  I could stay. Despite the ache in his chest, he knew better than that.

  The minute he parked beside the bones of a house rising from the dirt, a man in a hard hat turned. Cole got out and walked to meet him.

  “Mr. Phillips?”

  “That’s me.” Tall and rangy, he had blond hair mixed with gray, deep crinkles beside his eyes and the kind of tan that men who worked outdoors had. The hand he extended revealed some serious nicks and scars.

  They shook and studied each other.

  “You learn what you claim to know in prison?” Phillips asked bluntly.

  Well, at least he hadn’t missed that line on the application.

  “No, although I did some construction while I was there.” He explained about working for his father, whom Phillips hadn’t met but knew by reputation. “That’s why several contractors took me on later.” Cole then elaborated on his recent jobs for Erin and her neighbors.

  “Wheelchair ramps, huh? Those can be tricky.”

  “Planning them was interesting,” he agreed.

  “Whatever you did to end up behind bars, you planning to do it again?”

  Cole considered and discarded making his usual claim to innocence. He settled for “No, sir. I plan to work hard and start fitting in some college classes.”

  “Okay. You have those recommendations?”

  He’d taken to bringing the folder everywhere with him, and handed it over. Phillips flipped through the pages.

  “Lottie, huh?”

  Cole smiled crookedly. “She’s a character. Has to be ninety and still drives, even though her spine is crumbling and she’s about so tall.” He held his hand waist-high.

  Tom Phillips laughed before saying abruptly, “I’m shorthanded. I’ve had a couple of guys who weren’t reliable. I don’t tolerate that. You’d better be damn sick if you don’t make it to work. I’m willing to give you a try. When can you start?”

  Exhilaration rushed through him.

  By chance he’d worn his boots instead of the athletic shoes he’d almost put on. “Right now, if you need me.”

  They briefly discussed pay, when checks were issued, start time and end time and, when Cole asked, what kind of projects Phillips took on and where. He’d be building at least twenty houses in this development, which would keep them busy for a good long while.

  “More, if we can stay on schedule.”

  Cole had to admit he di
dn’t have any tools with him and didn’t own a hard hat.

  “Didn’t expect you to. I’ve got everything you’ll need.”

  Cole explained that he had to make a quick phone call, then he’d start wherever he was needed. Receiving a brusque nod, he walked back to the truck.

  This call to Erin was bittersweet.

  “I got a job,” he said. “A good one.”

  * * *

  HE WENT HOME sweaty and still exhilarated. The work had been easy, nothing he hadn’t learned how to do by the time he was sixteen or so. He’d done his best to prove he was strong and tireless, as well as a perfectionist.

  As he walked toward his truck at quitting time, Phillips called after him, “I like what I saw. Keep it up.”

  Cole should have gone to the apartment to shower, but most of his clothes were at Erin’s and he was eager to talk to her. Too eager.

  And this isn’t home, he reminded himself. He had to quit thinking of her house that way.

  He walked in, finding her in the kitchen. Something smelled good. She heard him coming and turned from the cutting board, a paring knife in her hand.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Good.” He wanted to say great, but couldn’t trust that this job would pan out, however hard he worked.

  Her smile lit her face. “I’m so glad, Cole. Is the job temporary or...?”

  “Long-term, if Phillips is happy with my work. He seemed to be today. Ah, you mind if I go take a shower?”

  “No, of course not.” Her smile had faded and her expression was grave. “It might be best if you pack up your clothes after the shower, though. I’m happy to feed you dinner until you get moved, but—” Pressing her lips together, she looked away for an instant before she met his eyes again. “I can’t keep...pretending everything’s fine. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  He almost staggered back from the punch of pain, but long practice at hiding his emotions gave him the ability to simply nod. “I understand.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen.