Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio)

by Toni Blake

  He looked away for a second then, not answering, and she saw him swallow—uncomfortably.

  Her chest tightened and her throat went dry.

  And then Adam blew out a long breath and shut his eyes, finally reopening them to say, “It was Jeff on the phone. He wanted to tell me that if I say no, his lawyer plans to subpoena me. So . . . looks like I’ll be testifying after all.”

  Seventeen

  She often cried out that it wasn’t fair, and it really was not.

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Sue Ann simply gaped at him. How was this possible? She felt as if someone had just lowered an anvil onto her chest. She barely managed to whisper, “You’re testifying for Jeff? Against me?”

  “It’s not against you,” he insisted, shaking his head. “And I have no choice now. But it has nothing to do with you, so don’t worry.”

  She simply let out a heavy breath, stunned. “How can you possibly say it has nothing to do with me? It has everything to do with me. If they ask you questions about me, you’ll have to answer. And God knows what could come up or how it could make me look.”

  He just tilted his head and narrowed his brow, as if she were being unreasonable. “I would never say anything to make you look bad, Sue Ann. How could you even think that?”

  “Because it’s not up to you what the lawyer asks! And though I think of Jeff as more selfish than vindictive, who can say anymore? For all I know, he could be angling to take Sophie from me!”

  “That’s crazy—that’s not what he’s after.”

  She sat up next to him, incensed now, and feeling the need to tower over him. “It’s not crazy. If there’s even a tiny fraction of a chance that my custody of Sophie could be at risk, it’s not crazy. And you’re just now telling me about this? Why on earth didn’t you tell me before, when he called? You said everything was fine! How could you keep that to yourself?”

  Another big sigh left him as told her, “I meant everything was fine with the boys—that’s what you’d just asked me about then. And damn, Sue Ann—I just didn’t want either one of us to have to think about this right now. I knew you’d make too much of it and I didn’t want to upset you.”

  Sue Ann simply sat before him astonished, speechless. She’d felt so close to him just a minute ago—but suddenly that had changed into feeling . . . almost betrayed. She’d slowly worked up to being ready to proceed into a relationship with him—hell, to having already proceeded there. And she’d been so . . . open with him just now, during sex. She’d given him so much of herself. Because she’d begun to trust him so much. And yet he’d come back into the room without telling her about that phone call?

  “More like you didn’t tell me because you figured you wouldn’t get laid,” she murmured under her breath.

  And now he looked angry, too. “Shit—that’s how you think I see this? As getting laid?”

  She knew it was harsh, knew it wasn’t true, and yet . . . “Why else hold back on news you knew would upset me?” She glanced away from Adam then, even shifting her body away, too, and hugging her knees to her chest—an urge to cover herself up a little. She was tired of feeling confused, and tired of analyzing all this—but she couldn’t stop herself.

  And when he answered, his voice sounded small coming from behind her, as if he were as drained and exasperated as she was. “Because we were having a nice night and I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t figure waiting an hour or two to tell you would change anything.”

  She sucked in her breath and felt herself almost begin to tremble with all the emotion running through her. “You should have told me before. Because now it feels . . . almost like you weren’t honest with me by not sharing it the second you found out.”

  Now even his sigh was racked with weariness. “It was an hour, Sue Ann. One fucking hour. And a damn good hour, too, I might add.”

  Yes, it had been an absolutely amazing hour—but that didn’t matter to Sue Ann at the moment. What mattered was how much she’d let herself go with him, because she’d begun to feel so sure they saw things the same way in life. What mattered was that he thought she was “making too much of it,” and that he’d made the conscious decision to keep something important from her, even if only for a little while. What mattered were the things he could be forced into saying about her under oath. What mattered was her daughter. Her life. Her heart.

  She shut her eyes, tight, willing back tears. She had no intention of letting Adam Becker see her cry. She’d opened herself up to him so much these last two nights, in so many ways—and now she’d become far too vulnerable, let him see far too much.

  He sat up next to her, touched her arm. And she could smell the sexy, musky scent of him right beside her, but she kept her eyes closed. “Sue Ann, you gotta know I’m crazy about you. If that helps at all.”

  A lump had grown in her throat. And that stark vulnerability now hung around her like a blanket, heavy and stifling, made worse by the fact that she was naked. “It . . . actually makes it worse,” she managed.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he said softly.

  Yes, it does. It makes me care about you even more. It makes me envision this perfect thing we could have together. But now that was soiled. And if he hadn’t been completely honest about this, right up front, what else might he choose to hold back from her in the future? What else might he decide she was “making too much of”? It was hard to weigh—maybe at any other time of her life this one transgression wouldn’t matter so much, but right now, it did. She’d put her trust in him and he’d promptly shown her that was a mistake.

  “I think you should go,” she finally said in a hushed tone. But at least her voice hadn’t quivered. Hold onto your dignity, above all else. Despite Adam’s previous observation about that, she still thought she’d lost enough of her dignity in the divorce—she couldn’t bear to lose even an ounce more.

  Next to her, he expelled a heavy breath. “Can’t we talk about this? Can’t we talk through it?”

  She just shook her head briefly. “I don’t think so. I just want to be alone.”

  “I told you before that I would never hurt you, and I meant it.”

  And at this, she lifted her eyes briefly to his to softly point out, “You just did.”

  “Sue Ann—” He touched her arm again, but this time she pulled it away—and he flinched, clearly surprised.

  “Please, Adam,” she snapped. “Please just go.”

  “Really?” he asked. “You won’t even talk to me about this?”

  She simply shook her head.

  And he went still, silent, and a few seconds later said, “Fine.”

  As he got up and went about getting dressed, Sue Ann followed the instinct to climb up onto the sofa, pulling an afghan from the back and burrowing under it, curling her body to face away from him. She waited, biting her lip, still willing back tears, angry at herself, angry at him, angry at all her emotions—emotions she’d thought she was coming to grips with, but now, here they all were, suddenly flooding back through her like a brand new river of pain.

  Only when the front door closed quietly behind him a minute later did she finally let herself begin to cry. She’d told him everything in her heart, honestly. And each time they’d been intimate, she’d given him a deeply private, personal piece of herself she could never get back.

  And only now was she realizing how much trust that had taken, how much trust she’d already given him before even fully deciding to do so. She’d thought she was easing into something with him slowly, carefully, but now that it was suddenly over, she understood that she’d already let herself go way too far to come out of this unscathed.

  Oh God, why did I ever let this be any more than sex? Why did I have to start having such deep, wrenching feelings for him? How did I let myself get hurt again this soon?

  Adam tried to hold crookedly cut snowman-laden wrapping paper in place with one hand while he wrangled a piece of tape from the roll with the other. But
by the time he managed to tear off the tape, the paper had slipped. He let out a small growl, sending Pepper trotting from the room. Damn it, he really was “all hooves” when it came to this.

  “Pepper,” he called, then whistled softly. “You can come back in the room, boy—I’m not mad at you.” No, he wasn’t mad at Pepper—he was mad at everything else. But when my mood drives away even my dog, man’s best friend . . . Hell, it felt like a new low in Grinchiness.

  Timidly, the collie re-entered the living room, where Adam sat on the floor attempting to wrap the boys’ gifts. Exasperated, he abandoned the task, lifting both hands to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “That’s right, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” he murmured. “Of course you are. Without you, I’d probably be stark raving mad by now.”

  Because one of the things that had him back in a bad mood was the utter emptiness of his own house. Yeah, that had started not to seem so bad the other day, but now it was back, again making him aware of how quiet the place was without the kids. Even now, the only sound was the crackling fire in the hearth across the room. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to turn on lights in other rooms the last few days, or music, or even the TV. So maybe it was his own fault.

  And so he was mad at himself, too. For the way he’d been acting since Jacob and Joey’s departure, and for the Scroogy attitude that had taken hold of him yet again after what had happened with Sue Ann the other night.

  God, why didn’t he tell her about the call right when it had come in? Looking back, he supposed that hadn’t exactly reeked of him being an honest, up-front guy. He just hadn’t thought that far ahead at the time.

  It had actually been a split-second decision—he’d walked in the room, seen her pretty face, and had simply chosen to think about better things. After all, it wasn’t exactly fun for him to find out he was getting subpoenaed. But apparently Jeff’s lawyer was bent on Jeff’s lifelong best friend, Adam Becker, taking the stand—because Adam was so respected in the community. Lucky me for being so damn well-liked.

  On one hand, he couldn’t help feeling Sue Ann was blowing this out of proportion. She’d practically acted mad at him for having to testify, even though it wasn’t his fault. But . . . hell, maybe he wouldn’t be in this fix right now if he’d just refused Jeff’s request from the beginning and not hemmed and hawed so long. And he knew Sue Ann was fragile right now when it came to trust—how many times had she told him that in the past month? So, on the other hand, when he looked at it from her point of view . . . well, maybe the answers suddenly didn’t seem as clear.

  “All right, boy, all right,” he said when he’d had enough making up with Pepper. “Go lie down for a few minutes and let me finish this, then I’ll give you a treat.”

  The word “treat” worked its usual magic, and the dog retreated to the rug in front of the fireplace. “Good boy,” Adam praised him. Then he looked back to the wrinkled paper around the new gaming system he was trying to wrap. “Learn to wrap presents,” he said absently to the dog, “and you’d really be man’s best friend.”

  Finally, Adam succeeded in doing his usual sloppy job on the gaming system, then reached for the two large boxes containing new winter play coats, one in red, the other blue. Oh boy, these should be fun to wrap. Letting out a sigh, he grabbed a roll of paper featuring snow-skiing Santas. He’d picked it up at the drugstore knowing the boys would like it since they were such expert skiers now.

  God, making love to Sue Ann, in her bed and then again in front of the fire, had been so good, so freaking perfect—and it killed him to know he’d blown it all to hell in the blink of an eye. One mistake had cost him a woman he really thought he could have a future with. And shit—having to drive that damn sleigh away from her house and all the way back to Grampy’s place had made him feel pretty fucking ridiculous given the way the evening had turned out.

  Though as he used the first big coat box to measure the amount of paper he’d need, he realized there was someone else he was mad at, too—he was mad at Sue Ann. For not listening when he’d wanted to talk through it. For not realizing that he was a damn good guy. For not even trying to look past his mistake. After all, hadn’t they just agreed that neither of them were any more perfect than anyone else?

  But at the same time, he knew that for her to be with him, the way he wanted her with him—for something real—she needed to believe in him wholeheartedly. And he’d made that impossible for her.

  After using scissors to cut a big swath of Santa paper—more jaggedly than he’d meant to, of course—he wrapped it around the box . . . only to find it wasn’t quite big enough, after all.

  Great—that’s just fucking great.

  He let out another growl, sending Pepper running from the room once more.

  Jenny let go of Mick’s hand to peer down into the heavy-duty stroller Betty Fisher pushed up the sidewalk near Under the Covers. “My, who’s this?” she asked.

  Betty was a longtime family friend who, along with her husband, Ed, hosted an annual Fourth of July picnic at their farm every year. And Jenny occasionally took her telescope to their large, wide-open yard for stargazing. Now Betty flashed a big smile in response to Jenny’s question. “My grandbaby, of course. My daughter and her husband just came into town yesterday and now Grandma has until the day after Christmas to spoil this perfect little one.”

  Jenny bent down, pulling back a snow white blanket to reveal a tiny infant girl, fast asleep. A small red bow was clipped into a tuft of dark hair, and she wore a sweater proclaiming, I LOVE SANTA! Something in Jenny’s heart curled inward at the sight as she breathed in that soft, warm baby scent. And then her stomach pinched. Because of the ongoing strain between her and Mick lately. Because she wanted a baby now and he didn’t.

  “She’s beautiful, Betty,” Jenny told her, aware that Mick stood somewhere behind her, probably with his hands in his pockets, not even stepping up to look. And normally she wouldn’t have a problem with that—Mick had just never been a baby person. But now, suddenly, it seemed rude and disinterested, and it even embarrassed her a little.

  Yet Betty didn’t seem to notice, or at least she didn’t seem to mind. “Thanks, Jenny,” she said as Jenny gently covered the baby girl back up. “You two have a nice evening.”

  So maybe the problem was hers—not Mick’s or anyone else’s. And she couldn’t deny that she was the one who’d changed here—not him. But somehow that just broke her heart all the more as she and Mick continued up the street toward Dolly’s, where they were meeting Tessa and Lucky for a casual dinner.

  When Mick took her hand again, she stiffened—then realized what she’d done. It made her draw in her breath. They never got mad at each other, never fought. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever reacted that way to his touch before.

  So she relaxed her hand into his—but it was too late; he’d noticed, and he pulled back to look at her. His dark eyes blazed with hurt, and maybe a hint of irritation.

  She considered saying something, but couldn’t conjure any words. Nothing felt right at the moment. So finally, she just let out a sigh, then looked back ahead of them, starting to drag him forward in the cold. “Come on, we’re late.” Yet she feared the tension suddenly stretching through her body could still be felt in her grip.

  And she found out she was right when Mick pulled up short, stopping them again.

  She looked back at him. “What?”

  “Jenny,” he began slowly, “I’m sorry I don’t feel the way you want me to about this.”

  For some reason, she played dumb. “About what?” Maybe she just didn’t want to talk about it right now. They were only steps away from the café, after all.

  “You know what.”

  Okay, this meant she couldn’t get out of having the discussion—and as another large sigh left her, her chest began to ache. Biting her lip, searching for words, searching her heart, she gazed up into the eyes of the man she loved more than anything in the world. “But couldn’t you just try?” she asked h
im. It probably wasn’t the right thing to say—yet it was what had come out.

  “Why isn’t this enough, just you and me?” he asked. “You and me and Trouble? It was enough up to now. And I thought we’d agreed it would be enough forever. It’s still enough for me. I like our life the way it is.”

  Oh Lord—how could she explain this? Because it was true—up to now they’d been like-minded enough on the subject. Mick hadn’t wanted children, and she hadn’t felt strongly about it either way, trusting the outcome to fate. And fate had definitely been doing things right not to create a baby during her first marriage because she’d been with the wrong man then. But now that she was with the right one . . .

  “I’m just . . . having maternal urges.” Strong ones. “I never really had them much before, but now . . . here they are, and they won’t leave me alone. And the thing is, Mick,” she went on, now reaching out to take both his hands in her gloved ones, warmly this time, “part of why I want a baby is because . . . I want one with you. I want a baby that you and I made, together, that’s part of us both. Can you understand that?”

  Mick squeezed her hands in his, but at the same time, he looked down, let out a breath. And Jenny’s hopes crumbled. She already knew she hadn’t gotten through to him—that his feelings on this outweighed his usual desire to make her happy. “Jenny, honey, I just . . . don’t want kids. And I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

  “I know, but . . . ” I’m suddenly not sure if I’ll ever be complete now without a child. Everything inside me is changing. Why can’t you feel the same way? Why don’t you want to share that with me?

  “But?” he asked pointedly, urging her on.

  “Why can’t you just think about it? Consider it? Maybe if you really thought about it, you’d realize you feel differently now, too.” She sounded desperate, she realized, stopping. And he was looking at her like she wasn’t quite making sense, like she was almost scaring him.