by Alison Kent
“And you have my complete sympathy,” Indiana said as they walked. “Being at the mercy of one of those two would be enough to drive me to drink. But both? At the same time?”
“Guess it’s a good thing I gave up alcohol. Then again . . .”
This time it was Indiana laughing, her joy infectious, the diamond in her wedding ring set flashing in the sun. “Come on. I’m dying for you to meet everyone, though I guess Luna is the only one you don’t know.”
Obviously Kaylie had told Tennessee they’d run into each other at the park, and Tennessee had shared the news with his sister. That was the way it worked with the Keller siblings. At least with those two, which had Thea wondering how tight their bond had grown during Dakota’s absence, and if he sensed some of that now and felt left out, or as if he didn’t belong, or wasn’t needed, because of it.
Once Thea and Luna had been introduced, and their six degrees of separation narrowed down to their having Angelo in common, Kaylie pulled foil from the casserole dish in the center of the table, while Indiana uncovered the salad bowls, and Luna poured the iced tea. The three chattered and jostled comfortably, their movements showing off the simpatico of their friendships.
Not for a moment did Thea feel like a fifth wheel. The three’s interaction wasn’t quite that of Thea and the women she lived with, but then their situations were hardly the same. Thea’s lunch partners were happily married. They didn’t spend their days looking over their shoulders, their nights in the dark waiting for their locked doors to shake.
They didn’t look at fresh deli soup and a variety of real cheese as a splurge. They didn’t live hand-to-mouth, day-to-day, and yet they, too, were survivors. Suddenly Thea wished Ellie and Becca and Frannie were here to see their future. They would have this, all of them, one day. Thea would see to every bit of it.
“Here you go,” Kaylie said from across the table, handing her a basket of bread. “Take one and pass it on. There’s butter, honey, and Dolly’s fresh strawberry jam.”
Thea pulled aside the napkin, her eyes going wide as she reached for a roll and bounced it in her palm. “I have never in my life seen a hot roll this size. This one could serve as a softball.”
“It’s my foster mother’s recipe,” Kaylie said, pouring a drizzle of dressing onto her salad. “They were one of the best parts of growing up in this house.”
Thea stopped in the act of splitting open her roll. “I didn’t know that about you. That you’d grown up here.”
“I did. I came back and bought the place a little over three years ago. And thanks to Luna,” she said, passing the dressing to the other woman, “I was able to reconnect with my birth father. Then when I wanted to put in the garden at the back of the lot,” she added, waving in that direction, “Tennessee got in touch with Indiana.”
“It was the first time we’d seen each other in years,” Indiana said, stirring sweetener into her iced tea, and surprising Thea with the admission. She’d assumed the siblings had been the rock each needed. And she wondered if Dakota knew of the rift. “After everything that went on with Dakota, we drifted apart. Both of us feeling guilty, I guess.” She shrugged, then she smiled and nodded towards Luna. “This one here managed to find Angelo again on her own.”
“It was completely unexpected,” Luna said, with a laugh, the sun catching on chunks of her sharply cut and very black hair. “But I really like how it worked out.”
“I can imagine.” Thea had met Angelo. He was definitely a catch. She set aside Indiana’s confession to ask, “How did you know him?”
Luna gestured with her salad fork while she chewed, then said, “His younger sister and I were best friends in school. She was killed in a car accident at the beginning of our senior year. It was the same accident that eventually took Oscar, Indiana’s husband’s brother.”
Thea’s stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, please. Don’t worry about it,” Luna said sweetly. “Anyway, I bought the house that had belonged to the Caffey family, and Angelo found out. I went by after closing, and looked up, and there he was on the porch.”
“And they lived happily ever after,” Kaylie said, the three women laughing again. This time Thea joined them, though she wondered how much of what any of them felt was less joy than relief at having recovered from their emotional ordeals.
Luna’s next words gave credence to her thoughts. “We’ve laughed about it a lot, and still do, as you’ve no doubt noticed. We’ve got sort of a survivor’s club thing going on here.”
Thea stabbed her fork into her vegetable lasagna, coming up with a zucchini slice, then asking, “Can I throw my hat in the ring for membership?”
“Is this about your seeing Dakota again?”
Thea shook her head in response to Indiana’s question. She wiped her napkin over her mouth, then sat back, looking from one woman to the next. She had never told anyone the full story of her years spent with Todd. But these three women had made it. They had gotten beyond their tragedies, or at least learned to live with them. And that was exactly what Thea wanted for herself and the others she lived with.
“My ex kept me locked in our condo for nearly two years. The last two we were together. He chose what I would wear, what I would eat. Who I would see. What I would say when I saw them. He made me into someone that wasn’t me. He hurt me during sex, then soothed it all better. I thought I could save him, you know. Being there for him. Listening. It had to be me, no one else. Turns out he couldn’t be saved. Big surprise.”
Then she took a deep breath and reached for her tea, feeling bizarrely relieved—though considering her earlier thoughts about the others, was her relief really that strange?
Seemed she did fit in.
“Oh, Thea,” Indiana said, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea.”
“But you got out?” Luna asked, completely somber. “And you’re okay?”
“I’m out, but I’m not sure about the okay part,” she said with a strained laugh. “Though I am working on it. Every freaking day.”
“You’ll get there,” Kaylie said, reaching across the table to take hold of her hand. “I promise. Just look at us.”
“How did you do it?” Thea asked, blindsided by the rush of charged emotion she felt at learning the bits and pieces the women had shared. “Get past the, well, past?”
“We didn’t. Not really,” Indiana said. “We are all our past.”
“She’s right,” Luna added. “You don’t need to move beyond it, as long as you don’t look back. There’s no need. You’re not going that way.”
Dakota was sitting on the top of the cottage’s front steps, a longneck in his hand, when Thea’s Subaru turned off Three Wishes Road into his driveway, and came to a stop behind his truck. She’d been scarce today around the shop. He’d talked to her this morning, then she’d disappeared for a long time around lunch. He’d heard her again this afternoon, but just briefly. More girl chatter before she’d come to fetch some paperwork from her desk. He’d had his table saw going, so no chance to say hello.
He’d missed that. Saying hello. Saying anything that came to mind and having her listen. Having her say what she was thinking without walking on eggshells, afraid the wrong words would break him. It had taken him weeks after arriving in Texas to convince his siblings they didn’t need to couch things just so to keep from hurting his feelings, or risk him spiraling into some deep dark place. But Thea hadn’t bothered. Probably one of the reasons it was so easy to love her—
Aw, hell.
He brought his beer to his mouth and tried not to pay attention to the way she looked walking toward him. It wasn’t easy. Instead of her usual knee shorts and baggy tanks, she had on those pants that stopped midcalf—in black—with sandals and a black-and-white striped shirt that was a little bit classier than a T. She also had on big pink sunglasses
. The same color as the polish on her toes. Huh. First time he’d noticed that.
What he was noticing and in a very big way was her hair. Since the day he’d walked into Bread and Bean and seen her there on the floor, she’d worn her hair in a loose topknot thing that usually fell one way or the other, and always had pieces sticking this way and that like a rooster’s tail. It was cute. He imagined it was cool. And it was completely Clark. She’d shoved it out of the way similarly in school, and hadn’t taken it down in bed.
It was down now. And it was a lot longer than he’d realized. Almost to her elbows. With the wispy bangs that hung in careless points to her brow in some places and nearly into her eyes in others. It was laid-back hair. Messy hair. But cut to be so, and he liked it. Seeing it catch the breeze and blow around her shoulders, watching her reach up to clear it from her face, looking at the way the sun glinted off the lightest of the strands . . .
Yeah. He shouldn’t have had a fourth beer. Then again, he’d had no idea she was going to stop by. She hadn’t stopped by once since he’d lived here, and had only come to breakfast at his invitation. Besides, he was only on his way to being lit, not yet all the way there. He’d be okay, having her here, the unexpected temptation showing up when his guard was down and he was more vulnerable than he liked to admit.
Aw, hell.
“Long time no see,” he said as she reached the steps.
“I had lunch with your sister today,” she said in way of greeting.
He didn’t know why that came as a surprise. “And lunch took all afternoon?”
“Kaylie was there,” she said. “And Luna.”
“That would explain it,” he said, adding as casually as he could, “Nice hair, by the way.”
“Thanks.” She crossed her arms on the porch steps handrail. “I decided a lunch date deserved a little effort.”
He lifted his bottle and drank, then backhanded his wrist over his mouth. “I see where I rate.”
“You are not a lunch date. You’re the hired help.”
“Right.”
She sighed, then propped her chin on top of her arms. “Do you ever feel as if the universe is trying to tell you something?”
“How so?”
“Every time I turn around it seems like someone is telling me to stop worrying about the past and pay attention to the present, yet the past is so much a part of my present, I don’t think I can.”
“Want a beer?” he asked because he didn’t want to comment on her observation. It cut a little too close to home.
She shook her head, pushed off the handrail, and came closer. “No thanks.”
“I’ve got tequila inside,” he said, jerking his chin that way.
“I don’t drink anymore.”
Well. This was interesting. “Because of the ex?”
“Because I like having a clear head.”
“To think about the past?”
She shot him a look, then climbed the steps and sat beside him. “How was your day?”
“This is what we’re doing now? Sharing the events of our days?”
“Why not? We’re friends.”
Friends. “I thought that was a couple’s thing. Man comes home after a hard day at the office, listens to the little woman tell him her woes.”
“That has to be the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, smacking him on the shoulder before leaning back on her elbows and lifting her face to what was left of the sun.
Dakota chuckled, staring at the steps between his feet instead of at the length of her neck. But it was her neck that he saw. Her neck that he couldn’t get out of his mind. Her neck, and the way her hair fell to drag against the porch, and the smooth skin of her chest above her shirt’s neckline, and her breasts beneath the fabric . . .
Aw, hell.
He leaned away from her to set his bottle on the porch, and then he leaned toward her because he couldn’t help himself any longer. He’d been thinking about kissing her for weeks now. He probably thought about it a dozen times every day. It was hard not to when she was within reach again and he’d known her so well way back when.
Before she could open her eyes, he slid his forearm beneath her neck, bracing himself as he hovered over her. Her lips parted as if to speak, and then she looked at him, there above her. She blinked, her lashes fluttering, as if trying to clear him from her sight. He waited. He didn’t want to scare her, or make her uncomfortable.
Finally she rested her head on his arm and reached up with one hand, raking her fingers into his hair and along his skull. Her wrist scraped over his cheek, and he rubbed against her, then turned enough for his lips to find the heel of her palm. He kissed her there, nipping lightly at the muscle as he lowered his gaze from hers to her mouth.
Still he waited, wanting to get this right. Her nostrils flared briefly, and her chest rose with her quick, rapid breaths, and then the tiniest sound escaped her mouth. A moan, a sad one, as if she were giving up instead of giving in, and he hesitated, lifting his head just enough to signal his intent to put a stop to what had never really started.
He was not going to screw this up. He was not going to give her a single regret.
“Stay.” She whispered the word, and it wasn’t the least bit sad.
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am,” she said, nodding as she did. “It’s been so long. Years. Forever. My whole life.”
It seemed that way to him, too. But the second his lips touched hers he forgot all the time he’d waited and fell into the moment, all of it so familiar and yet completely new. Her lips were soft, and she took no time parting them; her tongue had found his within moments.
He didn’t press, keeping things on an even keel, one he could deal with without losing his mind, though he feared he was looking at a lost cause. This was Thea, not one of the other women he’d had the pleasure to know during the years he’d been unable to face home.
She slid her tongue along his, then pulled away to tug at his lower lip and breathe. His heart had swelled until his chest hurt with it, and the pounding had reached the base of his skull. He wanted to blame the beer. Damn, he wanted to blame the beer. But he couldn’t.
It had been this way with them every time. And the fact that nothing had changed left him feeling punched. He hurt with what she made him feel as her lips played over his, her teeth catching him lightly, her tongue hot and wet and wistful as she swept it through his mouth.
He pushed harder against her because it was what he had to do. He’d never thought he’d have her again. Not this way. Not outside of the past he remembered as if it were yesterday, not when they hadn’t been teenagers and life hadn’t gone to hell. They weren’t teenagers now.
Thea loved him with her mouth as if he mattered, as if nothing else did, and he loved her back the same, telling her with his hand sliding down to her hip what it was like to know her again, with his fingers at her cheek and her jaw how much he’d missed her, how he’d wanted for so long to open the door and find her there. With his mouth, how he hadn’t realized any of this until just this very moment. He sighed then, and lifted his head. Trouble. They were in so very much.
“What was that?” she finally asked him, having spent the seconds since their parting blowing out long, slow breaths.
“It’s been a while since I’ve done it, but I’m pretty sure it was a kiss,” he said.
“That wasn’t any kiss I’ve ever known.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.”
She didn’t respond to that, saying instead, “It’s only good if we’re not heading into a relationship. I don’t think either one of us is ready for that.”
Yeah. He’d pretty much known that when he’d started. “You’re getting a little deep on me, Clark. I was just having fun.”
“And you’re forgetting how well I know you. You don’t do anyt
hing for fun. Not anymore.”
The thing of it was, she was right. About both. The fun part wasn’t a big deal; he could live with it. Having Thea Clark knowing him as well as she did . . .
Aw, hell.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Baking bread with Ellie Brass turned out to be a great way to spend a Saturday. Lena learned things about the science of food she’d never even imagined. Ellie knew everything. How different ingredients reacted when barely whisked together. How they reacted when heartily stirred. How baking soda and baking powder were not the same thing. How salt that wasn’t even noticeable made things taste so much better.
Frannie and her boys were in and out as she did laundry and other chores. James helped as much as he could, and when Ellie had downtime waiting for loaves to rise, she scoured the kitchen. Lena helped, though it bothered Ellie for some reason that she did. Ellie said Lena was a guest and guests didn’t need to clean. Lena insisted she was a friend and friends pitched in whenever and where ever they could.
It seemed a foreign concept to Ellie, which had Lena wondering yet again what the other woman had been through that had left her so insecure, and so fearful that she wasn’t doing enough. As if her own needs weren’t important, but she was responsible for meeting those of everyone around her. Something had gone very wrong in her life. Something Lena wondered if she’d ever be able to work her way past.
“When did you start baking? How did you figure out how to do all of this?” she asked with a wave of her arm, encompassing the cooling loaves and those that were rising and the table loaded down with oats and seeds and honey and a half dozen types of flour. “Because I am so totally impressed.”
“I worked in a bakery after losing my teaching job,” Ellie said with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal. Lots of people bake. But I don’t know anyone who can make candy.”
“I don’t make the candy,” Lena reminded her. “That’s all Callum.”
