Searching for Always

by Jennifer Probst

  It was a long time before Kennedy was able to admit her love for Nate and accept she was worthy for him to love her back. Since then, they'd moved in together and Nate was working on the next step: getting her to marry him. Arilyn would bet her money on Nate any day. Kennedy was still refusing, not wanting to ruin what they had, but slowly the rest of her walls were coming down.

  "What's up, ladies? We're not drinking?" Kennedy asked.

  Kate laughed and held up her own water bottle. "It's ten a.m. I think we should hold off on the hotel liquor bottles till at least noon."

  Kennedy pursed her lips in a famous pout. "As Buffett says, it's five o'clock somewhere."

  "But not here," Arilyn pointed out.

  "Semantics. You didn't drag me in here to discuss the pros and cons of truffles versus photo frames for favors, did you? Because I'm on your mom's side. Mini vibrators with Kate & Slade Forever imprints are the bomb."

  Kate choked on her water. "Never gonna happen, dude. And screw you. Whatever happened to your reassurances that you'll help in whatever capacity for the wedding?"

  "I got burnt out. If I ever agree to marry Nate, we are so going to Vegas. Just us, you guys, and Elvis. Heaven."

  Arilyn grinned. The numbness melted a bit as she savored the warmth of female friendship. "We'll be there. In the meantime, Kate is worried about leaving Kinnections behind during the honeymoon. I think we're here to reassure her."

  Kate and Kennedy exchanged a meaningful look. Not good. This whole encounter stank of a setup. "Well, yes, I'm worried. But it's more directed at you, A."

  Arilyn blinked. "Me? I'm perfectly capable of handling my job while you're away. I'm fine."

  "Umm, did you just throw out a client and tell him to sue us?"

  Arilyn winced. Oops. Of course they'd heard her temper tantrum. Not good, since she was the one who had taught them to deal with difficult clients by not giving in to anger. "I had a weak moment. He was hopeless."

  Kate raised a brow. "You always told me there's no such thing as a hopeless client."

  Irritation prickled. Another strange emotion. "I lied. Can we move on?"

  "No," Kate said. "You've been a complete mess. Slamming doors. Throwing out a client. Gen said she stopped by and overheard you yelling at Mike."

  Shoot. She never raised her voice, but honestly, chewing her expensive basket was way past her normal patience. She apologized later, and they'd made up with a cuddle. "There was a good reason. I'm fine."

  "Bullshit," Kennedy tossed out, and leaned forward. "You're a mess over the breakup with asshat. Usually a good cry, a weekend in bed, and a tub of Ben & Jerry's helps, but you're not getting better. Instead, you keep burying yourself in projects and slipping further away."

  She stiffened. She was a counselor, dammit, and knew everything about healing. "I have everything under control. Work helps distract me, and time heals all wounds. Forgive me if I can't be all lightness and fun lately, but I'll handle it."

  Kate sighed. "Sweetie, we're not saying you need to spring back. You're misunderstanding. There's a distance and sadness around you we've never seen before. Like you're going through the steps but aren't really here. We think you're taking on too much, too soon. Besides offering private yoga lessons, you took on the anger management course, the shelter fund-raiser, plus all your duties here. Now you're watching Robert, and with me gone for two weeks, well, I'm afraid."

  Pain sliced through her at the thought that her friends believed she couldn't handle her job. "I'd never fail Kinnections."

  Kate glared. "Are you kidding me right now? I don't give a damn about Kinnections or the computer system or the matches. I care about you. I don't want to be away in St. Lucia and find out you needed me and I wasn't here! Or that you got sick because you're overworked and won't come to us for help. A, you don't realize this, but out of all three of us, you're the one who never opens up."

  She gasped. Her fingers flew to her throat. "What? How could you say that?"

  Kennedy nodded. "I agree. You isolated yourself in this relationship, just like Genevieve did with her ex-fiance. We knew you were unhappy, but you refused to talk about it."

  Genevieve MacKenzie was best friends with Kate, and they had all gotten close over the summer. Engaged to a successful surgeon, she ran out the day of her wedding, right into her best friend Wolfe's arms. "Gen was being emotionally abused by David. It was completely different," Arilyn said.

  "Was it?" Kate asked. "He refused to meet your friends. Insisted you keep your affair a secret. Snuck you around like he was a married man, hiding you from the public. Why didn't you ever call him by his name?"

  She jerked back. Why? Because it would make it too real. This way, she was able to engage in the fantasy of a secret love affair with her teacher. She was able to deny the reality of their relationship and the fact that he never really wanted her. At least, not full-time. He'd enjoyed taking her off the shelf to play with but always returned her to his holding place. Shame choked her. God, even her friends had seen the truth. And they were right. She'd never opened up to them the way she insisted they did with their own relationships.

  She was a hypocrite.

  "I'm sorry." Misery leaked into her voice. "I think I knew if I let you in, it would prove our relationship wasn't real. And I so wanted it to be real."

  Kate blinked furiously, the wet sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry you got hurt, sweetie. Out of all the people in the world, you deserve this the least. But from now on, you need to let us in. No more secrets. You also need to learn to ask for help. Hell, Ken and I have put the call out a dozen times, and you always answered. Gen, too. Now it's your turn, and we want to help."

  Kennedy cleared her throat. "We love you, you idiot. Watching you isolate yourself is killing us. Understood?"

  She swallowed and nodded. "Understood." She paused, trying to find the words to describe why she'd been avoiding her friends. "I'm just so mad," she whispered. "I mean, really, really mad."

  There was a short moment of silence. "Well, duh," Kennedy finally said. "The man you loved was screwing someone else. You have every right to be pissed off, A. Why are you so afraid of a little righteous anger?"

  Because it didn't help. Because she'd watched her mother die raging at God and the universe the entire time. Because her dad took that same anger of losing his spouse and spewed it out at himself, until he let himself die just to be with her. Because it wouldn't bring back the man she loved or change the situation. Instead, she tried to take those messy emotions and transform them. Transcend them into something good so she didn't destroy herself as her parents and so many people she counseled had done.

  But she swallowed the words back and nodded. "You're right. Maybe I need to get in touch with my angry female side."

  "I have a list of great songs on my iPod to give you," Kate said with a grin. "Now, what can we do to make sure you don't work yourself into the ground? Can you get out of any of your jobs for a bit?"

  She sighed. "Not really. I can back off on the fund-raiser for a bit, since there are other volunteers who can take the reins. I rented out the firehouse for private yoga classes, but when you're away, I won't schedule any."

  "Speaking of anger issues, how about that anger management class?" Kennedy asked. "Sounds like a nightmare to me."

  Arilyn grinned. "Maybe because you can use a class or two yourself?"

  "Funny."

  This time she laughed out loud. "Just kidding. No, I have a small group of three this time. It runs for six weeks, for a few hours in the afternoon. I enjoy it, actually. Many of the people have good hearts. They just haven't learned how to control their emotions."

  "Well, if anyone can keep them in line, you can. Nate and I will give you any extra help you need for the fund-raiser. We've been doing so well, there's no reason we can't back off on any new matches for a bit. Just until we get our full team back and hire a new assistant."

  She fought her instinct to reject the offer, hating to depend on
anyone but herself. Instead, she forced herself to go along. "Agreed."

  "Done. I feel better," Kate said. Her friends stood up. "Mugs this Friday night?"

  Arilyn hesitated. She'd missed the last girls' night out. "I'm in."

  "I'll call Gen and check on her schedule," Kate said.

  "I'm good, too," Kennedy said. She paused at the door. "Oh, just a quick BTW. If anyone contacts either of you regarding my whereabouts last night, can you just confirm we were hanging out at your house, Kate? You were, too, A."

  Arilyn frowned. "What happened? Why do you need an alibi? Why do I?"

  Kennedy grinned without a shred of guilt. "I had these rotten eggs in the refrigerator I needed to get rid of. Imagine my surprise when I drove past the house of he who shall not be named? Let's just say I got rid of them."

  Kate burst out laughing. Arilyn stared at her friend. "You threw eggs at his house? How did you even know where he lived?"

  Kennedy wagged a finger at her. "Darling, you underestimate me. We all know where he lives. The stench followed me all the way down the road. It was quite poetic. See you ladies later."

  She sashayed out of the office with Kate following, still laughing.

  Arilyn buried her face in her hands, wondering what he thought of the childish gesture. Probably took it with a stoic grimness, admitting his fault. Ready to be punished like some martyr.

  Asshat.

  The image of moldy, runny eggs all over his neat white stucco house hit her vision. Suddenly, she began to laugh, and a hint of lightness flowed through her body.

  Breakfast, and justice, had been served.

  Arilyn got back to work. She sifted through the papers on the three clients who were attending anger management. One cited by the court. One from the Verily police station. Another volunteer in an attempt to woo back his spouse.

  Time to sift through the background information on each man and draft up a plan. Every personality was different, and she respected how unique reactions came from a wellspring of emotion, usually based in the past. The first two were easy. Road rage was more common now than ever, and probably revolved around a type-A personality with control issues. Eli White. Her mind clicked on various paths in order to give him tools to use on the road and in other social situations.

  The second man, Luther Jones. Lost his temper too many times with his wife and now was paying the price. She gave him credit for wanting to change, for loving someone enough to sign up for such a class. He seemed to own some triggers within his personality that they'd need to work on, but again, a basic case with a high chance of success.

  She picked up the chart for the third man.

  Her fingers dropped it immediately, and it floated back down to the desk. Her breath constricted in her chest. Not. Possible.

  Officer Stone Petty.

  A shiver raced down her spine and goose bumps prickled on her skin. The image of his face floated before her. Staggering height. Massive muscles. A nose that had obviously been broken, craggy rough features, a cruel perpetual sneer to his full lips. The goatee only added to his dark presence, that of a man you'd never want to meet alone. In an alley or anywhere.

  From the moment they met, she had taken an instant dislike to the man. He was too big. Too confident. Too masculine.

  Too everything.

  He sucked the air out of the room and commanded everyone's attention without a word. Besides the odd crackle of electricity between them, she had an odd urge to bend to his will, do what he said, surrender to anything he asked of her.

  Nuts. She was certifiably nuts.

  So she'd gone on the offensive immediately, refusing to cower under his dominant stare and deep, gravelly voice, which did bad things to her tummy.

  They'd met when he and his partner stepped into a violent scene between Genevieve and her ex-fiance. Then he responded to another case of vandalism on Gen's house. Both times, Arilyn had called the police, and been met with a stubborn, pain-in-the-butt Stone Petty.

  How could this work? How could she possibly counsel him when he'd refused from the very first second to take directions from her? She knew his type well. The know-it-all, superior, "I am God" complex many cops had. Of course, she understood the motivations behind it. Dealing with the underside of human nature eventually takes a toll. She'd counseled cops before, but never one with so much burning energy and . . . darkness.

  Arilyn dragged in a breath and picked the paper up again. This was ridiculous. She couldn't pull out now. She'd study his chart, his past, and try to find a route that would work.

  After scanning the details of the scene that had forced him into anger management class, her heart softened. He'd tried to protect a child. Yes, his career may be taking pieces from his sanity without him realizing it. She'd need to dig deep into his past and his brain to try to help.

  The image of his dark brown gaze boring into hers ripped another shiver from her body.

  He was a walking disaster. Smoker. Drinker. A murky past. He'd been involved in another domestic abuse episode in the Bronx. Left a year ago. For peace and quiet? Perhaps. But one thing she had learned was that even Verily had its darkness.

  She tapped a finger against the manila folder. She'd need to tread carefully with this one. Make sure he knew from the outset who was in charge.

  Arilyn hoped she could pull it off.

  three

  STONE KNEW WITHIN two minutes he'd rather have gone to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Or passed a kidney stone. Hell, he would've even agreed to be tortured by a drug lord for hours rather than deal with this nightmare.

  Anger management sucked.

  He tried not to sneer at the other two participants as they sat in their cushioned folding chairs and focused their attention on Arilyn Meadows like two kiss-ass students looking for an A from the teacher. Dude one seemed like an intimidating kind of guy who had a serious case of road rage. Good-looking, with spiky brown hair, blinding white teeth, a nice build, and an obvious horn dog. He seemed way too eager to please Arilyn. His gaze stripped her, his smile seemed too smug, and he tried to keep her questions directed at him. He was too physically eager. Like, maybe if he tried seducing her, he'd get out of class early.

  Like that was ever gonna happen under Stone's watch.

  Dude two was an African American guy with glasses who seemed the intellectual type, enthusiastic about overcoming his societal issues to restore and heal the gaps in the relationship with his spouse. Yeah, big words, convoluted speaking, definitely some type of teacher. Stone wondered what he looked like when he lost his temper. Could be fun to find out.

  "Officer Stone Petty?"

  He shook his head and focused on her face. He'd been hoping to walk in and realize that strange connection between them was gone. Counted on putting his time in with no distractions by a pretty hippie with an enchanting scowl and a rocking body.

  Yeah. Scratch that.

  It had actually gotten worse. The zing of energy in the air practically sizzled like greasy bacon in a hot pan. She knew it, too, just chose to ignore it. The slight widening of those green eyes and the tiny catch of breath in her throat confirmed her own reaction. The pure rush of satisfaction that wracked his body screamed of trouble. This was no woman he could tumble quickly and walk away from in the morning. Unfortunately, his cop instincts burned to figure her out. Craved to know if her surface matched up with the depths of the woman beneath.

  He didn't think it would.

  In his gut, Stone Petty thought she was a big liar. Push past her sweet, serene, flowing do-gooder facade and who knew what type of woman he'd find? Why did he suspect a wild streak buried somewhere? The moment he began baiting her, she rose to the occasion. She pretended to be all calm and centered, but an angry energy radiated around her and damned if he didn't recognize it well. Maybe because he lived it. Was it possible Arilyn Meadows was a complete fake? Did she own an actual temper and backbone?

  It would be damn fun trying to find out. Anything had to be better
than her boring Buddha-like attitude.

  She waited for him to answer, seemingly calm and patient. "Officer?"

  "Yeah?"

  Arilyn gestured to the other men. He'd forgotten their names already. "Eli and Luther have shared the circumstances that brought them to this class. Would you like to elaborate a bit on your own story?"

  No. God, he hated sharing, especially in circles with strangers. Why did women always want to talk about their feelings? Didn't actions speak louder than words anyway?

  "I was called into a situation. It got out of hand. I lost my temper."

  She tilted her head. Long, silky strands of rich strawberry gold slid over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist. He wondered what she'd look like naked, with all that glorious hair spread out over white sheets. Did she think her casual clothes hid her body? The Lycra pants clung like second skin and caressed like a lover, emphasizing every subtle curve. The hard tips of her small breasts pushed against her tank top in a lovely game of peekaboo. Her skin was fair, with a nice array of freckles he'd love to explore. A slight frown marred her brow at his obvious perusal.

  "What happened when you lost your temper, Officer?"

  "Stone."

  "Excuse me."

  His gaze bored into hers. "My name is Stone."

  Dude A--Eli?--laughed and tried to get back her attention by launching into an explanation. "I think Arilyn is trying to get you to open up more. This is a safe place. If you don't share, she won't be able to help you." The guy beamed, as if he deserved a medal for being teacher's assistant.

  "How about you share your way and I share mine, buddy?"

  Arilyn cleared her throat. "Umm, thank you for helping, Eli, but everyone here is entitled to commit completely to this process or fight it. What you take from this class is up to you. We'll be doing daily group therapy, but I'll also be working with each of you privately."

  Eli looked way too satisfied. Stone wondered how an anger management class was already pissing him off. Dude B spoke up. "I agree with Eli. There's a layer of trust within group therapy that needs to be carefully built. For instance, I trigger over jealousy. The idea that my wife can be looking at another male short-circuits my brain."