“James.”
“Probably waiting for a bed, then.” He tried to see beyond the receptionist into the patient rooms beyond. “Want me to hurry this along?”
Mavis heaved a wary sigh. “James, listen to me—”
“I’m going to talk to someone,” he decided and began to push up from the chair.
The hand that gripped his arm was cold and implacable. Mavis’s eyes were like flint on his as she hissed, “Don’t you dare.”
He slowly lowered back to the seat, knowing better than to argue with that stern look. “At least let me find out how long the wait is.”
“I’m fine waiting,” she told him. “In fact, I’m perfectly fine doing this on my own.”
As the words he’d feared reverberated through him, James’s eyes combed her face. “But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t need you to be here for me,” she reiterated.
James did his best not to suck in a breath as the rejection sucker punched him. He shifted in the chair. “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go. All you have to do is say so.”
Mavis closed her eyes. After a second, the muscles of her face relaxed and she opened her eyes again. “This isn’t your burden to bear.”
“Look, I get that you’re tough,” he told her gently. “You’re tougher than anybody I’ve ever known...and I’ve met a lot of rough characters in my time.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said, her voice laden with irony.
“I’m not here out of obligation. I’m here because I love you,” he told her. When that made her fall silent, he reached for her hand. “I know you’re going to give this thing one hell of a fight, and I want to be here when you do. I want you to know I’m in your corner, that I’m going to be here for you through all of this and that I’m not going anywhere.”
Mavis’s eyes lowered to their joined hands. They scanned the ink on the back of his hand and wrist. After a moment’s thought, she squeezed his hand in answer. “It’s a nice thought.”
James stared at their fingers. Her hand looked so small against his. The bones felt hard and the joints looked stark. He cleared his throat as his brows came together. “Since Dad’s funeral, I’ve done nothing but run away and hurt you. I behaved like a child, especially when you married Stephen. And I was mad because I thought that was my fault, too. If I’d been around more, maybe you wouldn’t have been so lonely or felt the need to marry so soon.” When she began to speak, he went on before she could. “I was afraid of losing you. That was part of the reason I stopped coming home. I was an idiot. Now we’ve lost so much time...”
He let the words trail off because he’d come close to admitting that he was scared of losing her now, too. For a long time, she studied his downturned face. Her thumb began to caress the backside of his hand. Finally, she whispered, “I was wrong, too.”
His face lifted to hers with a perplexed frown. Seeing emotion and remorse in her eyes, he fought the need to hold her.
“I should have found some way to reach out to you,” Mavis explained. “Not only to tell you about your little boy. Every father has a right to know that he has a child. Just like every son has a right to know that the one thing his mother wants most in the world is for him to come home.”
James caught himself squeezing her fingers a shade too hard and loosened his grip. Lifting his other hand to his mouth, he rubbed his fingers over his lips, then stopped and gripped the leather cord around his neck. Pulling the wooden cross out from under his shirt, he said, “I, ah...I want you to have this.”
As he lifted the leather string over his head, Mavis’s eyes softened on it. Holding it in her palm, she turned it over to see where the letters ZB were painted. She ran her thumb over them. “You still wear this?”
James lifted a shoulder. “I used to think it was Dad’s old Corvette engine that brought me luck through the years. Now that I think about it, I believe it might have been this. And there’s also this...” From his shirt pocket, he pulled out a wallet-sized photo of Kyle and handed it to her. “Adrian gave me some photos. I thought you’d like to have one. He is your grandson, after all.”
A gentle smile warmed Mavis’s mouth as she gazed at Kyle’s school photo. “Well. There’s no denying he’s yours, is there?”
James let out a small laugh. “He likes engines, but he’s smart as a whip. He gets that from Adrian, not me.”
Her smile faded out slowly. “It seems you might be proving me wrong.”
“About what?”
“I told you that the only thing you owed Adrian and Kyle was peace.” She looked up at him. “Do you think you have what it takes to make them happy?”
James thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think I do.”
“And is that what you want?” she asked curiously. “After everything you’ve seen and done, you’re content with a life on the straight and narrow, juggling the responsibilities of family life in a small town?”
It was James’s turn to smile. “I can’t think of anything I want more. If they’ll have me, of course.”
Mavis touched his jaw, then she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “My boy’s all grown up,” she said, her voice thick.
He chuckled. “About damn time, huh?” Sobering, he took the necklace and hung it around her neck for her.
Looking down at the cross, Mavis turned it to see the initials again. “When your father came home from rehab the last time,” she said quietly, “he promised me that he would spend the rest of his life making up for all the pain his drinking caused. He told me that he would work to make you and me happy, to make us proud. And he did, James. He really did.”
James nodded. “I wish I’d told him that.”
“You do whatever you have to for Adrian and Kyle,” she added. “They deserve happiness and peace. And so do you.”
James was almost glad when a nurse entered the room and called for his mother. His eyes were stinging. He ducked his head as he stood with Mavis and picked up her bag, pillow and blanket before she had the chance to do so. Following quietly, he was relieved when she didn’t protest his coming with her.
They talked quietly as the nurse made preparations for the intravenous administration of the drugs. James made sure to hold Mavis’s hand as they put the catheter in...though she didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash when they did.
She was tough, he thought. Stronger than he was. Still, when the drugs began dripping into her bloodstream, she fell completely silent and he pressed his lips to the back of her hand in comfort.
* * *
YOU DO WHATEVER you have to. Mavis’s words echoed in James’s head throughout the rest of the day. It was late once he’d seen his mother home and made her dinner, making sure she was comfortable until Stephen returned. But instead of going home, James found himself at Hanna’s Inn. He hesitated for a while before knocking on the kitchen door.
It was Cole who answered, not Briar. James exchanged a terse greeting with the ex-cop. After some hesitation, Cole opened the door for James to pass through.
The lights were low and all was quiet. Outside the windows, beyond a long tumble of green grass, James could see the water moving under the light of the moon. He’d always loved this spot on the bay. The inn hadn’t changed much in a decade. As he took a seat at the round breakfast table in the center of the room, he realized it smelled the same, too—like cinnamon, cedar and delicious baked goods. Drawing the combined fragrances deep into his lungs, James said, “It’s you I came to see.”
Cole dropped into a chair on the opposite side of the table, unreadable.
Bite the bullet, James told himself when he realized he was hesitating once more. “I, uh...I need some advice about something.”
He told Cole everything—about the attack on Van, how he had bee
n implicated, how Adrian had vouched for him, how eight years had gone by and the case had gone cold, and finally how he had learned about Dusty’s involvement. When he was done telling the story, Cole’s frown remained unchanged. “Why are telling me this?” he asked.
“You were a cop. Adrian knows you. She loves you. I’m sure that’s mutual.”
“It is,” Cole said simply, sharp eyes never straying from James’s face.
“The case has been cold a long time,” James said again. “What do I have to do to get it opened back up?”
Cole thought about it, eyeing James. The look seemed to lose a bit of its acerbic nature as Cole thought the inquiry over. “You got any concrete evidence?”
“Aside from Dusty’s confession? No. But the pieces fit. Van told police the guy wore a letterman jacket and was about my height. Dusty’s the only guy I knew back then who’s as tall as I am. He played football with me in high school so he had the jacket, like me. He wore it much more than I ever did.”
“Do you know the name of the detective who was on the case?” Cole asked.
Another pair of hawkish, distrustful eyes entered James’s head. “Randy Fleet.”
“If Detective Fleet still works for the Fairhope PD, I’d go down to the station first thing in the morning and tell him everything you know,” Cole said. “Whether it means simply taking another look at the case files or arresting your friend outright is up to them.”
James nodded slowly, the idea of revisiting his old haunt, the Fairhope Police Department, and facing the leery Fleet made him feel like a twitchy teenager again.
“And,” Cole went on after another moment’s thought, “if Adrian means anything to you, I’d come clean with her. As soon as possible.”
“Tonight.” James decided. “I’ll go over there tonight and tell her. It’s late...we’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow to go to The Farm. But I’d like to be there when Van finds out.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed as he watched James talk. “My wife keeps telling me to get over myself and accept your place in Adrian’s life. I can’t say that hasn’t chafed a good bit.”
James pursed his lips, letting the small, unexpected light of humor blink to life between him and Cole. “It’s chafing me a good bit to sit here with you, if it’s any consolation.”
Cole frowned a moment before the muscles of his face eased and his chin lifted. “Then I guess we’re even.” He glanced over James’s middle. “How’s the baseball injury?”
James jerked a shoulder. “Mosquito bite.”
“Guess you’re as tough as you look.”
James lifted a brow at the tabletop as he thought of his mother’s treatment earlier that day. As he thought of digging up the past and telling the Carltons about Dusty. “No. I’m a softy.”
Something close to a smile touched Cole’s mouth as his eyes focused on the ceiling. “It’s not so bad,” he told him, “when the right one comes along.”
James nodded. He stood and reached a hand to Cole as the man rose with him. “Friends?”
“Possibly,” Cole said, looking as surprised as James felt. His fingers hardened on James’s as they shook hands. “We’ll see how you do.”
* * *
THE DRIVE HOME gave James little time to go over what exactly he wanted to say to Adrian. One thing was clear. He had to tell her first. She’d vouched for him all those years ago. He wanted to be the one to tell her that her faith in him would finally pay off. Van’s attacker would be brought to justice, even if the fact that it was Dusty who had done it hit more than a little close to home.
James parked in his driveway and walked the short distance to the cottage. She had given him a key days ago, so he went inside. It was late. Most of the lights were off. Kyle was clearly in bed and had been for at least an hour if Adrian’s strict bedtime rules were any indication. James followed the sound of running water into the kitchen and found Adrian washing dishes at the sink.
He watched her for a moment. In the light from the stove, her hair looked burnished. She was taking her time, going about the chore leisurely, as if enjoying a minute with her thoughts.
James leaned against the jamb and waited, watching, as she finished washing the silverware and set it aside to drain. She didn’t hum as she worked, as many others might. Her thoughts were enough, it seemed. When she turned to put another dish in the drainer to her right, he saw her profile. There was a concentrated crease between her eyes.
He frowned. Something was weighing on her mind. He walked to her and slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. He felt her tense slightly and rested his chin on top of her head so that she would realize it was him.
Slowly, she relaxed in his arms, leaning silently back into his embrace.
James held her a bit tighter. Yep. When it came to Adrian, he was nothing but a big, hairy softy. Still, he’d worked for weeks for her to trust him completely. Her leaning into him might have seemed simple to anyone else, but to him it meant everything. Reaching around her, he twisted the tap until the water shut off.
She turned her head toward him as he did so. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You’re probably ready for bed.”
“I was,” she admitted. That bar between her eyes dug in a bit further. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.
She placed her hands over his, rocking back into him. “Why don’t you tell me about yours, instead?”
“I went to see her,” James admitted.
“Who? Your mother?” she asked, eyes lighting at the possibility.
He nodded, pressed his cheek to hers. “I went with her to chemo. I thought for a minute she’d kick me out, but we talked. It was good. I stayed through it—the treatment. I held her hand.”
Her lips warmed into a smile. “You did good,” she whispered. “I’m proud of you. How is she now?”
“She’s okay, I think,” he told her. “I drove her home, fixed her a sandwich, since anything else I make is bound to turn out burned to a crisp. I left when Stephen got home. She was in bed.” He’d made sure the blanket was tucked up to her chin...just as she’d done for him when he was a boy.
“And...how do you feel? Now that you’ve done it—taken the first step?”
James tightened his hold. “I feel like a fool for wasting so much time. But I’m in it. She’s going to beat this, Adrian.”
“I think so, too,” she murmured. She paused briefly, then spoke. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to see you.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, finding a smile.
She nodded. Then she turned in his arms to wrap hers fully around him and rest her head on his chest.
For a while, they stood together, holding on, leaning into each other. Finally, he moved, touching his lips to the top of her head.
She lifted onto her toes and kissed him.
“Mmm,” he said, surprised by the slow depth of the kiss. His hands tightened on her in reaction, as her palms swept from his shoulder blades down the small of his back. They went a step further, over his ass to rest just below.
He broke away. “Careful, baby,” he said, hoarse. “Man like me might get the wrong idea.”
She smiled, dropping back to her feet. Despite the movement of her mouth, her eyes remained serious. Taking his hand, she quietly tugged him out of the kitchen.
She led him down the hall, beyond Kyle’s bedroom to a room at the back of the house he’d never seen—her room. She didn’t give him time to hesitate, pulling him in after her and shutting the door quietly.
The fact that he was in her bedroom had more meaning than James could say. The last time he’d been in Adrian’s bedroom—the one at The Farm—he’d entered unannounced. Hell, he’d climbed through the frigging window to avoid running into either of her
parents. She’d been sleeping. He’d woken her by kissing the point of her shoulder, once, twice...and though she had been the one to turn to him, to pull him down to her and happily roll him into her sheets, it wasn’t as it was now.
As she turned to him with her back to the door and smiled quietly in the dark, his heart pounded. His mind emptied of everything but her. He was in her room. She’d brought him to her room and was smiling the secret smile he’d once known so well.
That gesture alone made him ache. Closing the distance between them, he kissed her heatedly, pouring the ache into her mouth as his body pressed hers into the door. The slide from tenderness to something baser was quick and sultry. His body bowed into the soft line of hers. The arousal straining against the zipper of his jeans felt as hard as a diamond. He wished he could give her softer, sweeter. But tonight was something different, something more vital and he had to show her...
They undressed each other. He took off her pants and his own. She removed his shirt. He wound her legs around his hips. He entered her there against the door, holding her off the floor. Even as his breath hitched and she moaned, he kissed her, stroking. Sliding, stroking, repeating, all the while feasting on her mouth, refusing to give up that link between them.
When her legs grew weak, slipping from his waist, he carried her to the bed. Desperate for more skin, for no barrier between them, he slipped off her shirt. As her arms linked around his neck, tugging him back to her, he dug his knees into the comforter and arched into her again. As he took and gave, their lovemaking became urgent, words grated low from his throat. “Love me. Love me.”
Afterward, in the stillness, he held her so she was sprawled over his torso. Even though his arms felt weak, he kept them locked around her, unwilling to let go. No, there was no letting go. For him, there wouldn’t be, ever again.
* * *
ADRIAN TRACED JAMES’S right forearm where the skin was mottled and pink, exploring the scars he carried. Her head was pillowed on his big shoulder. She could no longer hear his heart beating away at his chest like a wild thing. Still, she knew he wasn’t sleeping. Though silence reigned in the aftermath of his loving, she knew without looking at him that he was just as awake as she was.
His Rebel Heart Page 23
