If only

by Cherise Sinclair

  Conversation was general, a catching up on the years that had passed. Leigh Anne told how she’d met Tate on the Fourth of July. Emma had become hysterical at the loud fireworks, and Tate had come to the rescue. “He was so sweet,” Leigh Anne said, giving him a loving smile.

  Sweet? Tate? Sally frowned. Not in her experience. But, come to think of it, he’d been wildly popular in school and a good friend to his buddies. Just not to her. She hadn’t even gotten a wedding invitation. “And then you married?”

  Tate toasted his wife with his beer. “Yep. We were married by a justice of the peace with a couple of friends to witness. No party.”

  “Shoot, we either did it with no one or would have to invite the whole town.” Leigh Anne gave her guests a wry smile. “My first wedding was huge and expensive and obviously didn’t bestow any special magic.”

  Sally bit her lip, feeling unwelcome tears sting her eyes. Why would she feel relieved Tate hadn’t left her off his invitation list? Shoot, they didn’t even talk. Breathing slowly, she got her emotions tucked back down where they belonged before looking up.

  He was watching her with a small, concerned smile.

  So was Vance, who patted her knee.

  After a keen glance, Galen turned the subject to the gangs moving into Des Moines.

  During dessert, Sally asked for news about her classmates. Leigh Anne and Tate probably knew all the town gossip.

  Several had married. A couple of the guys were serving overseas.

  “Last winter, Clare—I think she was a year behind you—died in a car accident,” Tate said. “She left two children and a husband behind.”

  Sally’s father looked up from his plate and gave her a cold stare. “Clare probably had a selfish brat who demanded something, or she’d never have been on the road.” His unexpected attack slapped the table into silence.

  Guilt rolled over Sally like a winter fog.

  Wide-eyed, Emma pulled her hand back from the basket of dinner rolls.

  No, that wasn’t right. Sally rose and handed the little girl a roll. “It’s okay, baby. He didn’t mean you.”

  Without a word, Vance slung his arm behind Sally, pulling her chair close enough she could feel the reassurance of his body along her side.

  Galen leaned back, lazily swirling his wine in the glass as he asked in his blunt New England voice, “You obviously meant those words for your daughter. What exactly did Sally ask her mother for?”

  “A new dress.” Her father’s mouth twisted. “Couldn’t be happy with what she had. Wanted something special for a party. And even though I’d said no more money for clothes, her mother drove her to town.”

  “Well, no wonder you treat her like a criminal.” The diamond edge of Galen’s voice could cut through metal. “A little girl asked her mama for a party dress? Get out the handcuffs, Vance. Haul her to jail.”

  Her father jerked back as if he’d been punched. “Now listen—”

  “We should draft a law,” Galen said. “Make it a crime for a child to ask for clothes.”

  As Sally struggled against dark memories and self-reproach, his words took a while to sink in. She stared at him. “What?”

  Vance huffed a laugh. “Won’t work, pard. I have sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews, and they’ve asked for new clothes about every other day from preschool through college. Although one nephew didn’t—he wanted video games.”

  Galen’s brows drew together. “That’s even worse.”

  Sally closed her mouth as the Doms’ cold logic broke through. The shadows around her lightened as she remembered the essay she’d written for Galen. As she saw her father’s actions through the men’s critical eyes.

  Seriously? Treat a child like a criminal for wanting a dress? She thought of her friends’ children, how they’d ask for things—and beg if they didn’t get the answer they wanted. They were normal kids.

  “Oh dear.” Leigh Anne widened her eyes. “I’m afraid Emma and Dylan will be the first to be arrested.”

  Sally saw Tate struggling with laughter.

  After a quick glance at his stepfather, Dylan snickered and played along. “Oh no, Mom. Not jail. I only wanted one pair of running shoes. Not like John—he wanted three.”

  “Can I have new doll clothes, Mommy?” Giggling, Emma bounced in her chair. “I have to go to jail too. Like Dylan?”

  Turning a furious dark red, Sally’s father slammed his fist down on the table, making the dishes rattle and the children jump. “That’s enough! It’s no joking matter that the brat got her mother killed.”

  Galen rose and leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. “A car accident is a tragedy. Blaming a child for behaving like a child is criminal. Personally, I’d call it abuse, and if anyone here deserves to go to jail, it is you.”

  “You can’t say that to me!”

  “He shouldn’t.” Sally stood, seeing her father clearly for the first time. Anger swelled inside her. If he’d treated Emma the way he had her, she’d have removed the child from his care.

  When she put her hand on Galen’s shoulder, he studied her for a second and conceded by taking his seat. Vance’s hand warmed her lower back; he’d defend her if she faltered.

  Her father blustered, “That’s more like—”

  “He shouldn’t, because I should have, years ago.” Her lips felt numb, her hands chilled. But…she was ready. “I let you verbally abuse me, shut me in an unlighted barn. You locked me in my room for three days just for crying over a cat that died.”

  And Tate had left food in the tree house for her that time. She’d forgotten that. “You made me feel as if I caused the car accident, like I was a monster.” Guilt wavered in front of her like a black curtain, but she ripped it down. The air felt fresh as she pulled in a breath. “But I was just a normal child. Mom was a normal mother. The car skidded in a bad place. The only monstrous behavior…was yours. Is yours.”

  “I didn’t—” He pointed to her, face twisted in hate.

  He wouldn’t change. The sorrow of that filled her chest, but she knew what she needed to do. Her voice was firm. “I won’t speak to you again. I no longer consider you my father.”

  His mouth worked, but under her unwavering stare, his gaze fell.

  Sally took a stiff step back. Vance squeezed her side and took his hand away, leaving her free to chart her course.

  Her knees wobbled as she turned, but she lifted her head and walked steadily out the back door into the quiet night. Her chest hurt—her whole body hurt—but there were stars in the sky. She’d forgotten how beautiful they looked in Iowa.

  GALEN FELT PUMPED up with pride in Sally, at how she’d said exactly what she needed to say. And he hurt for her, because he knew just what it had cost her. Which was why he wanted to plant a fist right in the bastard’s face.

  He curled his fingers around his cane and knew if he spoke now, it would be too much.

  “My turn,” Vance said under his breath. He rose and put his foot on the chair, resting his forearms on his thigh. “Mr. Hart. After hearing all this, I’m sorely inclined to see if I can’t talk Sally into a civil lawsuit. Although the statute of limitations would hinder the outcome, your reputation in this area would definitely suffer.”

  Direct hit. The man’s color faded, leaving his tanned skin an ugly yellow. He rose and glared around the table as if expecting someone to leap to his defense. His stare came to rest on Tate. “You gonna let them talk to me like that?”

  “Yes.” Face pale, Tate straightened his shoulders. “I didn’t hear anything that wasn’t true.”

  With a growl, the old man stomped out. The front door slammed a minute later.

  “Well.” Leigh Anne puffed out a breath. “That was rather a mess, wasn’t it?”

  “He was really mean.” Emma looked as if she wanted to cry, and Galen felt a pang of regret that she’d witnessed the altercation. “Is Sally okay?”

  “I think she’ll be fine.” Leigh Anne pulled her daughter into her lap and l
ooked down the table at her husband. “I think we all will now.”

  Galen followed her gaze.

  Tate looked shell-shocked. After a second, he attempted a smile. “Emma, Dylan, if you two get ready for bed, maybe Sally will come up and say good night before she leaves.”

  Emma’s face cleared. She slid off her mother’s lap and trotted toward the stairs. “I’m going to show her my dolphin and my octopus. She’ll like them.”

  Dylan followed only a step behind. “She’ll like my books better. Bet she likes to read.”

  Thank God, children were resilient. Galen turned to look at Leigh Anne. “I’m sorry your children were subjected to that. We should have taken it elsewhere.”

  Leigh Anne shook her head. “Although he never treated them the way he treated Sally, they sure heard enough about what he thought. Tonight was ugly, yes, but I’m glad they saw him receive his comeuppance.”

  “Me too,” Tate said under his breath.

  When Leigh Anne rose, the men did also. She nodded at Galen and Vance. “I’m going to check on the children, and I know you want to be with Sally. Go on, now.”

  “Thank you,” Vance said. “You’ve been a generous hostess.”

  As Galen moved toward the back door, he heard Leigh Anne say, “Honey, this is a good time.”

  “I hope so,” Tate answered. “I’ll clean up the dishes a mite and have that talk.”

  Galen paused in the door. What talk would that be? He considered going back inside, then saw Sally.

  She was sitting on the wide back steps, head against a railing slat, watching the stars. She gave him and Vance a weak smile. “Sorry for leaving you. I kind of wanted to have the last word.”

  “Worked a treat,” Vance said. He gave her a quick kiss.

  Using the railing to assist, Galen sat down behind her and a step above. Legs apart, he pulled her closer so she could use his stomach as a backrest.

  She was trembling.

  “You’re cold,” he said. Probably also suffering from postfight adrenaline.

  Before she could answer, Vance dropped onto the step below her. Leaning against the railing, he slid his legs along the step so her thighs would rest on his. After curling his hands over her knees, he smiled at her. “Just consider us portable heaters.”

  “You two.” She sighed and pulled Vance’s hand onto her lap.

  In the distance, an owl hooted. The corn rustled in the breeze that was scented with freshly cut grass. Peaceful area. When Sally leaned her head back against him, Galen felt the evening’s turmoil drain away, replaced by contentment. His partner, his woman. Both safe.

  He wrapped his arms around her. Later, they’d discuss what had happened and do some digging into the parts their little submissive had revealed tonight, but right now, she needed a break.

  And that she’d accept comfort from him, that she’d really forgiven him, was more than he’d expected…and exactly what he needed.

  AS THE MEN’S concern wrapped around Sally, the awful shaking of her insides lessened. They stayed silent, letting her recover on her own. The quiet countryside had always soothed her, especially when she’d hidden herself up in the huge maple behind the house.

  God, she’d loved that tiny platform. Looking back, it seemed amazing that a skinny twelve-year-old could have made it. How much skin had she lost trying to drag scrap lumber up into the branches? How many times had she climbed out the window of her bedroom prison, onto the porch roof, and down the trellis? Wonder if the platform is still there?

  While building her little refuge, she hadn’t considered the future…like how the leaves would disappears with a brisk autumn wind, leaving her tree “house” totally exposed. Her father had definitely noticed. But he’d been amused, thinking Tate had built it.

  Her brother had never revealed her secret. Odd how Tate’s later behavior had made her forget so many of his small kindnesses.

  A few minutes later, the screen door opened. Tate stepped out and nodded at the two men. “Sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to talk to my sister before she left.” My sister. When they were little, he’d said those words with such pride. But after the world changed, he hadn’t claimed her any longer.

  Resentment flared and died. “Have a seat.”

  Vance said, “Would you like us to give you some time alone?”

  Tate sat down on a step the same level as Sally’s and leaned against the railing. “Stay. After that dinner, I doubt we have many secrets left.”

  Sally twisted in Galen’s embrace and rested her forearms on his bent knee so she could face her brother.

  The starlight heightened the shadows and lines in Tate’s face. He looked old, and she realized in disbelief that he was over thirty. His eyes, so like her father’s—and hers—met hers. “Sally. I’m sorry.”

  For the evening? “Tate, I’m the one that blew up at Father, not—”

  “Not that. Hell, he got what he deserved—and nothing I hadn’t said to him before once I realized…”

  Sally stared. He’d argued with their father?

  He sighed. “The fact that you look at me like that means I was even worse than I remember.” He pulled at his ear. “Shit. I didn’t know back then how bad I was. It’s like… All brothers tease their little sisters, right?”

  “I guess…” she said cautiously.

  “No!” He slapped the step, making her jump.

  Vance squeezed her leg reassuringly.

  “No,” Tate said more quietly. “See, Leigh Anne moved in here with the kids.” He smiled. “I love the rascals, but they’re a handful. Dylan teases Emma, and yeah, it’s normal. But it’s normal because we keep it from going too far. He gets in trouble if he hurts her or makes her cry or breaks her toys. I realized, watching them, that kids lack a sense of proportion. Limits.”

  Sally couldn’t find anything to say, so Galen, Dom that he was, stepped in. “You went too far with Sally?” he asked so quietly she wasn’t sure Tate even realized someone else had spoken.

  “Yeah. Dad didn’t set limits. Hell, he egged me on. And I bought right into his story, putting all the blame on you for Mom’s death. Cuz, I was angry. Grieving. She wasn’t my real mom, but I loved her.”

  In the silence, a whine sounded, and the old Labrador shuffled up the steps to lean against Tate’s side with a gusty sigh.

  Tate put his arm over the dog and ruffled its ears. “Funny, huh. She’s the one who taught me that love is more important than blood.”

  Sally nodded. Her mother had loved everyone and everything. And back then, her father had—okay, he’d never wanted a daughter, but he hadn’t been cruel. After her mother died, the light had gone out of her father’s life, and he’d grown…twisted. “You changed with her death.”

  “Yeah. Dad blamed you, so I did too. I took her loss out on you.” He shook his head. “As a kid, I felt kinda guilty about being mean to you. But now, when I imagine Dylan treating Emma the way I treated you…I’m sickened. God, Sally, I’m really sorry.”

  She stared at his face, open to her scrutiny. Slowly, slowly, a knot in her chest started to loosen.

  He was sorry. Yes, he’d been mean, but her father had been the one to make it a battle of them against her. Tate had been a teenager who’d lost a mother he loved, and her father had pointed the finger at her. Would she have been different if the roles were reversed? Hopefully so, but still… “I think I understand. And I forgive you.”

  “Well, hell, sweetheart, you’re taking all the fun out of the evening. Your pa got to walk out, and now I don’t get to pound the crap out of your brother?” Vance grumbled, his tone light, but she recognized the underlying frustration. He really had wanted to beat someone up for her. She laid her hand over his and squeezed.

  “Speaking of which… Since I’m now restored to big brother status”—Tate gave first Vance, then Galen a resolute stare—“would you explain exactly which one of you is with my sister?”

  Oh my God. Sally held her breath.

 
“Both of us,” Galen said. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  Tate blinked, obviously not anticipating a straight answer. Or to be put on the spot. He studied the men, and she remembered that about him. He never decided anything quickly. Finally, he spoke to Sally. “I liked the way they stood up for you, even after you left. But if they’re pushing you into something—”

  “They’re not,” Sally said firmly.

  “I guess that’s all right.” He stood up slowly and hesitated. “I just want you to know, you’ve got a place to come if you get into trouble. Or just need a home. Okay?”

  Hell, she was going to cry after all. As tears ran down her cheeks, she pushed at Galen’s leg. With his hands around her waist, he helped her stand.

  Sally took a step forward and hugged her brother. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Thank you for forgiving me, Sal.” He kissed the top of her head and stepped back, eyes gleaming with moisture. “I’ll just check on Leigh Anne. The kids are hoping you’ll come upstairs and say good night to them when you’re ready.”

  “Will do.” As Tate disappeared into the house, Sally scrubbed the tears off her face. And a slow grin blossomed. Family. She had family. “I just realized—I’m an aunt.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lying on the king-size bed in his partner’s hotel room, dressed in just a pair of jeans, Vance felt his muscles unwinding. As usual when he and Galen traveled, they’d booked two rooms, although he damned well expected to spend tonight in this one.

  But since the small hotel had equally small showers, Vance had left Galen to help Sally and had cleaned up in his room across the hall.

  From the noise coming from the bathroom now, they should have an interesting evening. Galen wouldn’t let the imp reach climax…not yet.

  Although Tate and Leigh Anne had offered their guest room, Sally had refused. Thank you, Jesus. She’d wanted to be with her Doms. And they wanted to be with her.

  But he and Galen hadn’t had a chance to plan out the evening…aside from enforcing their displeasure at her running away.