by Robin Kaye
Jax passed her the wine, carried his beer into the main room, and took a seat on the old leather club chair—giving himself the space and distance to study her.
She watched him, obviously waiting for him to explain himself further. Dammit. “A lot of what I’m dealing with is a waiting game, and I’m not the most patient of men. I hate not being in control of my recovery. And, yes, that’s just another one of my faults that has come back to bite me in the ass.”
She hadn’t followed him out of the kitchen, not that he’d expected her to. The place was so small, they could carry on a conversation from different rooms. It didn’t much matter. Kendall turned to the refrigerator without saying anything. But, really, what was there to say?
He set his beer down and threw a fresh log into the stove, kicking up a bunch of sparks. It caught almost instantly.
Kendall pulled her head out of the refrigerator, holding an armful of food against her chest. “I understand your frustration over the lack of control.” She bumped the refrigerator door closed with her hip before dumping her load on the counter. “I get it. You can’t control the healing process, and I can’t seem to control much of anything either.” She blew out a frustrated breath and began chopping vegetables with gusto. She slid the knife through a green pepper from base to cap without cutting through, wrenched the two sides apart, and then, making quick work of it, sliced them into thin strips.
Something in her tone had him taking a healthy swig of beer and crossing the room to the kitchen area.
“You know, while I was hiking, it occurred to me that I might have been able to solve the problems David and I had, but I was too dense to see that they even existed.”
Her back was to him, her posture straight and tense. He stood close to her and took the knife-wielding hand by the wrist.
She dropped the knife on the cutting board, obviously stunned. Good—she needed to hear him. God, if he could do one thing, he’d find this David asshole and beat him to a bloody pulp for hurting Kendall the way he had.
She turned around so they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh, and as she looked up at him, anger shot from her dark charcoal gray, sometimes black, eyes. But this anger looked as if it was aimed at herself. “I ignored the problems; I allowed them to fester. I knew better than to do that. I’m a freakin’ marriage and family therapist, for cripes’ sake. What does that say about me?”
“Only that you need to work on your mind-reading skills.”
She shot him a quelling look tinged with the possibility of physical retaliation, but he ignored it.
“Hey, I’m a guy. I know how hard it is to talk about relationship problems when the conversation is forced on you. It’s harder still to initiate it. Kendall, I can almost guarantee you that the problems that existed were David’s. From what little I know of the man, he doesn’t strike me as the least bit courageous.” And that was being kind. “If you’d been aware of the problems, I’m sure you would have dealt with them immediately. I might not know you well, but I can tell you’re not one to let things lie.”
Her brows arched at that.
“Am I wrong?”
“No.” She let out a defeated breath and returned to chopping. “But I knew something wasn’t right—”
“And now you’re kicking yourself for not forcing it out of him?”
“Something like that.”
“I see.” And he did. He was sure trying to get the dickhead to fess up to whatever was wrong wouldn’t have done her any good. But with Kendall, it was the lack of effort that bothered her. “Can I help?”
Without a word, she handed him a few carrots and a peeler. He started on the peeling—one of the very few things he knew how to do in a kitchen. He stopped midswipe. “You know, I’m willing to bet if you had forced the issue, Dave would have acted like the coward he is and avoided all confrontation. He doesn’t like drama, right?”
She nodded.
“Kendall, a man isn’t offered a transfer across country and expected to leave the next day. It takes a few months, at the very least, which means Dave made his decision a long time ago. He was biding his time. He wasn’t about to bring up the fact that he was unhappy or had problems with the relationship because he’d never planned to fix it. If you had known that or figured out his plan, you would have ended the relationship.” He resumed peeling. “Ending the relationship before his transfer came through would have been terribly inconvenient for good ole Dave. By not saying a word, he was able to choose the end date. He could run away and entirely avoid the messiness that comes with ending a long-term relationship. It would have worked too, if you hadn’t had the bad luck to lose your job. Like I said, the man is a coward.”
Kendall blew out a frustrated breath and slammed another onion on the cutting board before cutting the end off with one swift slash of the knife. “I know he’s a coward. I get it. But, Jack, there were two people in that relationship. . . . It’s never only one person’s fault. I have to accept at least some of the blame. I want to make sure I know what I did wrong so I won’t repeat my mistakes.”
He reached into the overhead cabinet and took out a couple of plates and then rooted around in the silverware drawer to get the utensils. He figured he might as well set the table, since she was doing all the heavy lifting cooking-wise. “Okay, I can see that. I’ll give you leave to take the blame for not recognizing a narcissist when you saw one.” He looked up from the plates he put on the table. “You were a kid when you and David got together. What did you know about narcissistic tendencies then?”
“Nothing, but I know all about them now, and all the psychology courses I aced didn’t help me recognize it in David. Some therapist I am.”
He took the three quick strides back to the kitchen and stood too close to Kendall, to make sure he had her attention. “Do you know that saying ‘A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client’?”
“Yes.” She rummaged through the pantry and pulled down a box of chicken broth and one of rice, measured both, and set the broth to boil.
“I would imagine it’s the same for doctors and therapists. You can’t treat yourself or people you love because of your lack of distance—you can’t be dispassionate and see things without emotion. So, no, this has nothing to do with your profession. It doesn’t make you any less of a therapist.”
“Really?”
“Do you have more carrots?”
“Sure.” She passed him the bag.
He took a bite of one he’d already peeled and then offered it to her in turn.
She bit off a piece and chewed thoughtfully, as if she were deciding whether or not to say more.
“I’m just beginning to realize how much of my identity I gave up being part of a couple. I think it was a gradual thing. But, then, I don’t know—I can’t remember a time I didn’t think of what was best for us and put that above what I might have thought was best for me.”
“There’s a fine line between compromise and giving in, isn’t there?” He watched as she tossed salt and butter into the boiling broth and added the rice.
“Now that I’m looking at it with a critical eye, I see that what was best for us was synonymous with what was best for David. I was trying to be a team player and ended up being a doormat without ever realizing it. I had no idea. How could I be that blind?”
Kendall turned her attention to a thin steak she pulled out of the refrigerator. She rubbed something on it and sliced it and a weird-looking root. In a measuring cup she mixed together soy sauce and a few other things he didn’t recognize; then she left the meat and all the vegetables in their own bowls.
She gave the rice a stir and looked at the timer she’d set. “You know, I’ve always seen myself as so strong and independent, and now I’m wondering if I haven’t been lying to myself all along.” She turned and lit the stove beneath a huge cast-iron skillet and, wrinkling her nose, slid him a sidelong glance. “My wok is better, but this will do in a pinch.”
Jax watched her fo
r a moment and then leaned against the counter. “Kendall, there’s something to be said for reflecting on failures and successes. But, then, nothing good can come of it if you’re too busy beating yourself up to see the good in what you’ve accomplished.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She left the pan on the heat and turned, giving him her full attention. “And, for your information, I didn’t beat myself up—I just had a hard time envisioning a future without David. I don’t think I’ve ever done that before—well, not since before I packed away my Barbie and Ken dolls, anyway. But even on that front I’ve made some headway—it just didn’t come easily.”
“The best things don’t.”
Kendall poured oil into the hot pan. He watched the oil spread and shimmer in the overhead light. “I’ve been waiting for three years to do what I really wanted to do: move home. You see, David had this list of goals we had to achieve before we married and returned to Harmony.”
Jax took a sip of his beer to keep from calling the guy a controlling prick.
Kendall threw the onions, peppers, and carrots into the pan and tossed them around. “Today on my hike I realized that I’m free to do what I want to do. I don’t have to follow David’s list anymore. I don’t have to live in Boston. I can move back to Harmony just as soon as I give my landlord notice and pack my apartment.” Her eyes sparkled, her face glowed, and she wore a natural smile. It looked good on her. Really good. “I can make my own decisions. I no longer have to live up to David’s conditions. I have options. I can find a new job, try to get a small-business loan to open my own counseling center, or both. I’m a hard worker.”
“Sounds as if you accomplished a lot on your hike.”
She shrugged and grabbed the strips of beef she’d sliced, and what she told him was fresh ginger and garlic, and added them to the pan, tossing the contents wildly but with surprising accuracy. Nothing landed outside the pan—amazing. The place smelled like heaven. The next thing he knew, she poured a soy-sauce mixture into the pan. She stirred a good shot of sherry into a cup, mixing in the same white powder she’d rubbed into the steak, and then poured the cloudy mixture into the pan. Within a few minutes, the sauce had thickened and the food she put on the serving plate looked like it could have come out of his favorite Chinese restaurant, the one his sister lived above on Mott Street in the center of New York’s Chinatown.
Kendall carried the rice and the stir-fry to the table, sat, and reached for his plate. She piled the food onto both dishes without even asking.
“Thanks. This looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She shrugged as she took a bite and looked like one of those food judges on the cooking channel. “You watched me throw it together. It’s not difficult.”
“Not for you. For me, it would be almost impossible.” He took a bite and almost groaned.
She held up her fork. “I guess I could stay with Addie or my parents until I find a place of my own.”
“You could stay here for as long as you want. You know, cooking in lieu of rent. I don’t know about you, but this is definitely working for me.”
He could tell from the look she shot him and the fake laugh that she didn’t believe him. “I’m serious. But if it’s not something you’d consider—”
“I think my parents would have a hard time with my moving from David’s place to yours—even if we’re only friends. They’re a little old-fashioned. No one would believe a woman and a man could live together as platonic roommates unless one of them was gay—which I’m pretty sure is not the case here. And this is a very small town.”
He was well aware of that and he was definitely not gay, but he saw her point. It didn’t mean he liked it. Even he had to admit that if she were rooming with Jaime, Jax wouldn’t believe they weren’t sleeping together. Just the thought of it made his head ache.
What straight guy wouldn’t want to have Kendall in his bed? Well, except for him. Not that he didn’t want Kendall in every way humanly possible, and he spent a hell of a long time imagining all the ways he’d take her. Yeah, wanting her was never the issue; deserving her was.
Kendall deserved way better than a man like David, the narcissistic prick, and she deserved better than a man like Jax. She deserved a man with all his cylinders firing. He might not deserve her, but he could help her, couldn’t he? “Doesn’t the guy who owns this place have about a half dozen other cabins he rents out? I would think he’d give you a screamin’ deal on a rental.”
She took a sip of her wine and looked at him over the rim shaking her head. “Oh no. There’s no way I’d ever ask a favor of Jackson Sullivan. No, I’m going to do this on my own.”
Jax refilled her wineglass and wondered what the hell he’d done to make her dislike him so damn much. “You know, Kendall, no matter what you say, I hardly think he’d be doing you a favor. How many of those cottages does he have rented out all year?”
“None. They rent in the summer, and the same families come year in and year out.”
“Well, it’s a long time until summer. And if you were to rent one, it would give you a landing pad for a few months until you knew exactly what you were doing, and it would give him more income. It’s a win-win.”
He barely kept himself from shaking his head. What the hell was he doing? If Kendall knew who he was, he’d be lucky if she’d even talk to him again. And once Grace and Teddy came home, he’d be outed. At least they were on a long cruise—he remembered giving them the longest option available when he had his assistant book it, since there wasn’t much for them to do around here this time of the year. Plus, as much as they denied it, the cold got to them, and who wouldn’t want to get away from the harsh New Hampshire winters?
He just wasn’t sure how much longer he had before they were due to return.
*
Jaime stood examining the Range Rover in the first bay of his heated garage on Main Street. He took a deep breath, and where he should have smelled only grease, motor oil, and quickly melting slush—something that smelled all kinds of gross even this far away from Boston—he smelled freakin’ green apple shampoo.
Hell, he hadn’t thought his day could get any worse, and now this. Now not only did he have to replace the whole hydraulic system in a twenty-year-old Range Rover—fuckin’ Brits; every single one of their cars was a nightmare to fix, and getting parts was a royal pain in the ass—but he had to deal with her too. “What do you want, Addie?”
“How do you always do that?”
He didn’t need to look to know that her lips were pursed as if she’d just eaten a particularly sour lemon, or that she probably wore all beige, unless this was one of her gray sweatshirt days. Both colors made her look like she was three weeks past her expiration date, not that she cared.
Addie Lane dressed in shapeless, colorless clothes. She had all the style sense of a body pillow, and that was just fine with him. She might fool the rest of Harmony’s male population, but he knew how she looked when Kendall dressed her up—he’d seen her at a bar in Boston, and it had taken half a night of drooling over her for him to realize it was Addie. Now he knew what kind of body was hiding under all those layers of ugly, oversize clothes, and he wasn’t about to tell her that the last time he snaked her shower drain, he’d sniffed every bottle of crap she had in there to discover the culprit—she smelled like her green apple shampoo. “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head. Happy now? What the heck do you want?” He heard her blow her bangs out of her eyes in exasperation. Fine. The sooner she told him off, the sooner she’d leave.
“You have to promise not to say anything to anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised, and I swear, if you tell, I’ll cut your balls off with a rusty nail clipper, Jaime Rouchard.”
He winced at the thought—knowing Addie, she’d figure out a way to do it. “Then don’t tell me. Far be it from me to force you to divulge a secret. I’m not that interested.” Besides, he already knew what she was going to say.
“Now, that’s interesting. What kind of help, and why me?”
“It’s a logistics thing. Besides, as much as I dislike you, you’re the only one in town I can trust.”
“Damn, Addie, you certainly have a way of sweet-talking me into doing your bidding.”
“Look, if you help me out, I’ll owe you one. Okay?”
“And just what do you think I need from you? You’re a kindergarten teacher. I already know my numbers and letters, thanks.”
“I can help in the office.”
“Not interested.”
“I can clean the place up a little.”
“Next.”
“What do you want?”
Yeah, he wasn’t even going there. It wouldn’t be at all gentlemanly, and there was no way she’d ever agree to it.
“Come on, Jaime. It’s for your own good. Aren’t you still best buds with Jax?”
“Yeah. What does he have to do with anything?”
“I can’t tell you unless you promise me.”
“Fine. I don’t have time for this, Addie. Just tell me what it is and what you need.”
“You promise not to breathe a word to a soul?”
“What the hell do you want, Addie—a blood oath?”
She mumbled something under her breath about all men being bastards. “David dumped Kendall, ran off to San Francisco, and left her flat on the same day she lost her job. So she came home, but she doesn’t want anyone in town to know, so she’s been hiding out at the Sullivans’ hunting cabin for the past week.”
“And you’re telling me because?”
“Because your place is close by. You can check on her and make sure she’s not doing something stupid.”
“Like what?”
“OD’ing on Ben and Jerry’s, crying into her wineglass—I don’t know what she’s going to do. She’s never had her heart broken before.”
“Sure she has. Don’t you remember what she was like when she was—what?” He thought back. “Twelve years old, when Jax and Rocki were sent away? She moped for months.”
