Rescue Me (22 page)

A quiet little voice inside her reminded her she was only delaying the inevitable.

She stifled a yawn that brought tears to her eyes—or maybe the yawn was a good excuse. AJ opened the front door and called for Holly to come out. He angled sideways, Mary Hannah's body barely brushing his as she walked inside the warm cabin.

Absently, she picked up magazines off the sofa and stacked them on the coffee table. Her gaze skated to the hearth with logs stacked. How she wished they could go back to that night they'd lain in front of the fire and made love. She snagged a crocheted afghan trailing off the recliner and folded it. She draped it precisely along the back of the sofa.

Holly padded back inside, shaking snow off her coat.

AJ locked the front door and set the security code. “Quit looking at my house like you want to dust.”

“I'm not a germophobe.” She forced a smile and smoothed the afghan. “I just like order.”

“A person could eat off your floors,” he said wryly, teasing predictably.

“A person would
have
to eat off your floors because they can't find the table under all those files.”

“I'll concede, it's cluttered with work. I'm still wrapping up loose ends on the meth-house bust.”

God, they were just going through the motions, but it was all so forced. AJ was too nice to give her her walking papers right after she'd torn her heart inside out to share her past with him after her friend nearly died. But Mary Hannah couldn't escape the feeling that all their actions were stilted, that it was only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. After her admission, something had changed between them back at the hospital. She felt self-conscious and vulnerable.

She just wanted to crawl into bed and curl up against his warm body to sleep. “You need more baskets to put things in.”

“Baskets? Mess isn't mess if it's hidden?”

Now, wasn't that a loaded statement? She should just quit being silly and go to bed. She slept here more often than she stayed at her place. He'd driven straight here. Going to her apartment now would require more effort and bring up questions she didn't want to answer.

She tugged off her boots and lined them up by the front door.

“Have you always been this, uh, organized?”

“Since I was a little girl, yes.” She walked into his bedroom.

“That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself.” He pulled a T-shirt out of his drawers and passed it to her.

She unzipped her jeans and kicked them free before folding them by habit. “So my psychiatrist has told me more than once.” She flinched. “Shit. I didn't mean to say that.”

“Then I didn't hear it.” He peeled off his clothes, down to his boxers.

When had they gotten into this routine? It made her stomach jumpy.

Steeling herself, she slipped out of her sweater and bra and pulled on his T-shirt, the cool cotton sliding over her skin and carrying a hint of his scent mixed with laundry detergent. “I really don't want to talk about my messed-up life anymore tonight.”

He flipped back the covers, inviting her to slide in beside him. He pulled her close to his side before turning off the bedside lamp. The moon shone through a part in the curtains.

Holly padded into the bedroom, straight to her new dog bed under the window. She turned around three times before settling with a huff and resting her face on her paws.

His heart beat beneath her ear, a steady soothing sound that should have lulled Mary Hannah to sleep, except now she felt wide-awake. “I do put a lot of pressure on myself. You may have noticed I'm a bit of a perfectionist.”

“Nah. Really?” He toyed with a lock of her hair.

“Be nice.” She tickled his side lightly.

He captured her wrist and kissed her pulse. “I'm growing fond of paisley.”

This small-talk game was tearing her apart inside. She couldn't just not talk about what she'd told him earlier tonight. She had to explain. Not justify. So he would understand the choices she'd made even if there was no excusing them. “I had to keep my scholarships.”

“College expenses can be crippling.”

Except it wasn't about the money. “My dad had the means, but he had expectations, and if I didn't meet them, the stress at home would make things very . . . difficult for my mother.”

“Difficult?” He went still against her.

“Are you asking if he was abusive? Not in the traditional sense. He was just very controlling, as if he could make my sister well by managing every aspect of our lives.” She wasn't making excuses. She just wanted AJ to understand, except maybe she was seeking some kind of forgiveness after all. “I'm positively mellow in comparison.”

“That's no way to grow up.”

“Even in college, I still couldn't stop feeling the need to keep the peace. So I studied my ass off to make perfect grades. And it wasn't enough. College was different from high school. I was just one of a group of honors students who'd been valedictorian. I got scared, really scared. I went to the campus clinic and they gave me something for my nerves. That helped for a while, until the classes got harder. I got another B—”

“You mean D?”

She shook her head. “When I say I needed to be perfect, I mean perfect. There was enough stress with Sarah Jane's seizures. I moved on to meds to help me stay awake, then ones to help me sleep. By the time my father passed away of a heart attack my junior year, it was too late for me. I was already addicted to prescription drugs and living a lie with Ted.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Me, too. When I realized I was pregnant, I used Dad's life insurance to check myself into a really good rehab program outside of Nashville. There's an irony in that.”

“It worked.”

“It did. For me anyway. The place catered to a lot of the Nashville scene. The rich and famous sent their kids there to detox. That's how I met Billy Brock, since his daughter was there.”

“Now you help counsel others.” His hand stroked up and down her back.

Finally, she asked the question that was keeping her awake, that had been tugging at her since her revelation at the hospital. “Will you ever be able to look at me the same way? Won't you always be suspicious of every move I make? Wondering if I'm another Sheila?”

He was quiet for a long time. Or perhaps it only seemed that way since she was holding her breath.

“Maybe you're too scared of what we're feeling. This connection between us is messy, Mary Hannah. It doesn't fit into one of your orderly binders.”

As she looked into his eyes, the moonlight streaming across his handsome face, she realized he could very well be right. She was every bit as afraid as Holly had been that first day in the meth house. Chained to her past. Afraid of the outside world.

She had rehabbed the drug addiction, but maybe she wasn't done fixing the rest of her. Maybe she'd never brought her heart back to life enough to let anyone in. And AJ—this man who helped her to see that truth, a man who just might give her another chance at love—deserved a whole lot better than that.

Let the games begin.

—HOLLY

M
ARY HANNAH HAD
visited Sierra every day for the past two weeks. But today was different. A momentous day for her friend. Sierra and baby Allen were being discharged this afternoon. Mary Hannah had offered to keep her company until the afternoon release. They waited together in the hospital room as Sierra looked forward to a new life with her son and Mary Hannah braced herself for the end of her time with AJ once the Mutt Makeover was finished.

Things couldn't be any more hectic with the competition only a day away. The morning after the event, Sierra and Allen would fly home and Mike would drive back. This had been such a tumultuous time, being so happy for her friend yet feeling like a failure herself. She'd failed her baby, her ex-husband and now she was failing AJ because she couldn't trust herself not to screw up all over again.

She cradled the tiny infant her arms, six pounds now and no one would guess what a rough start he'd had. He was perfect. Ten angel toes and ten tiny fingers grasping at the air. He wore a cap now, but hints of feathery blond hair showed. Such perfection.

Her heart squeezed, and she blinked back tears, refusing to taint a moment of Sierra's hard-earned joy. “I'm so happy for you.” Mary Hannah rocked the baby. “I'm going to miss watching this little guy grow up. I wish we still lived in the same town.”

“I hope you'll come visit us.” Wearing a loose sweater dress and fleece boots, Sierra walked slowly around the room, pulling her folded gowns and slippers off the closet shelf. “Take a vacation. Come to North Carolina. We'll go to the Outer Banks and make a holiday of it with AJ along. And you're always welcome on your own any other time, too.”

“I'm going to take you up on that offer.”

“Thank you for sitting with me this morning. I feel bad for Mom that she's had to worry about me on top of getting ready for the event.” Sierra placed the nightclothes in the full suitcase resting at the foot of the bed beside an infant car seat. “Then my crew piling in on her for a couple of days to rest before leaving. She pushes herself too hard.”

“You're one to talk about taking on too much.” Mary Hannah nodded at her friend's laptop computer case. “You're working on the magazine even in the hospital.”

“Just some light editing and a quick couple of military mommy blogs.” She closed the suitcase and zipped it shut. “You should submit some articles. Let's do a feature on the therapy dogs for military PTSD.”

“Just tell me the word count and when you want it turned in.”

“Oh, um, I can't pay you yet.”

“I can live with that.” Mary Hannah tucked a tiny hand back into the blanket swaddling. “It's good exposure for a great cause.”

“Someday I hope the e-zine will generate an income.”

“You'll make it work. You have your mother's drive and creativity.”

“Mike insists he wants me to follow my dream, but I know he worries about money.” She eased down into a chair beside Mary Hannah, gripping the armrest and sitting slowly, wincing as she settled. “I write freelance articles and that helps.”

“You're an inspiration that marriage can work.” She kissed little Allen's forehead, his skin unbelievably soft and sweet with the scent of baby wash.

“What about you and AJ? How are things going? Do you have big plans for Valentine's Day?”

The words stung. “Between dress rehearsal tonight and the Mutt Makeover tomorrow, we'll both be too exhausted.”

“I hope I'm not prying, but I noticed you've both been to visit but never together. Have you broken up and been keeping it from me out of a misguided sense that I should be wrapped in cotton right now?”

“We've both been busy balancing work and preparing for tomorrow.” She looked at the sleeping infant in her arms. The past two weeks she and AJ hadn't exactly broken up, but she'd been distancing herself, preparing herself. Only in bed did she let herself be with him unreservedly. “We have good chemistry and too much baggage. If I was counseling us, I wouldn't give us a chance in hell.”

*   *   *

WYATT HAD BEEN
walking a careful line, not pushing Lacey on the marriage issue. Finding out she wasn't pregnant after all had been a big fat blow.

Perimenopause, she'd told him.

He didn't really want a kid. But he did want Lacey. He refused to let her push him out of her life. She'd told everyone he was only joking when he'd said they were engaged, that he'd been trying to get better ratings.

She'd been pissed, but she'd said they would talk after the competition. Good by him. That gave him more time. He closed the full dishwasher and pushed the start button. Turning, he leaned back against the counter and watched Lacey's son at the kitchen table with his laptop. An ally on the home front wouldn't be a bad idea.

“Whatcha doing, Nathan? Video games?”

“Signing up for SAT and ACT prep courses.”

“That's cool, kid.” He'd always planned to go to college someday, get the degree needed to advance in the department like AJ had done. He'd just never gotten around to it.

Nathan shrugged dismissively. “I'm just filling them out to get Mom off my back.”

“You don't want to go to college?” he asked carefully. His own dad had hounded him to go.

“I want to . . . someday.”

“But?”

Nathan pushed back from the table, a tangle of awkward skinny arms and legs, having grown six inches in a year. “I'm worried about my mom being here alone.”

“Because of your grandfather being so out of it with Alzheimer's?”

“Partly.” He tapped the edge of his laptop absently. “She shouldn't be all by herself.”

Wyatt hesitated, not wanting to overstep and risk Lacey's wrath again. “I'll be around to help her. Your mom won't want you to put your life on hold for her.” He himself had run all the way to Tennessee to escape his family's disappointment and scrutiny. Leaving could be—liberating. “What do
you
want to do with your life?”

“I'm not my dad,” Nathan said defiantly.

“You're not supposed to be.”

His green eyes turned earnest, a kidlike vulnerability edging past the teenage attitude. “So you don't think my dad would be disappointed if I don't join the army?”

Wyatt didn't like to think about the fallen patriarch, war hero. His old man would have wanted a son like Allen McDaniel. He couldn't help but feel the man's ghost looming around here every time that damn cuckoo clock chirped. “I didn't know your father all that well since he deployed so often.” Why couldn't Lacey see he wanted to be here for her, every day? He would do anything to provide her with a full family and pampered life. “But from what I've heard about him, I believe he would want you to follow your own dream.”

“Um,” Nathan said hesitantly, cracking his fingers nervously, “I was thinking about the Coast Guard Academy, but it's really tough to get into.”

“You're a smart kid. If it's what you want, I say go for it.” He was proof positive that if a man wanted something badly enough, he could make it work. He needed to remember that and keep the faith in pursuing Lacey. Low profile always won. “So, kid, how about finding something warmer to wear? AJ should be here any minute to go snowmobiling. We need to get a move on if we're going to enjoy the fresh snow before your sister and the baby get home—”

The back door opened, letting in a blast of cold air.

“Hello?” AJ called. “You two ready?”

Holly bounded past him, big wet paws slapping the floor as she ran into the kitchen. She stopped short in front of Wyatt, the hackles rising on her back. She growled softly, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but Wyatt couldn't miss it.

Shit. He'd always hated that dog. The day of the meth-house bust, he'd been so focused on making sure he talked to Evelyn Lucas first and coached her on the best way for them both to get out of this mess with their lives intact. He would help her only if she kept her mouth shut. She'd played along to the letter.

He'd just never considered he might have to see any of those dogs long term. At least Holly couldn't talk.

*   *   *

AJ HELD HOLLY'S
leash, tucked just inside the stadium for dress rehearsal. Tomorrow the My Furry Valentine Mutt Makeover event would finally happen and close this chapter of his life.

The echo of barking dogs of all breeds and sizes reverberated up into the stadium. The ground level was still being decorated. Staff hauled in flatbed trucks piled high with bales of hay and a few decorative wagon wheels. Hammers and power tools clanged and whirred as a massive doghouse was built around the entrance for contestants. Agility courses were being assembled on one side, complete with the piece AJ, Mike and Nathan had made. On the other, workers wearing Billy Brock T-shirts constructed the stage and sound system for the musicians.

Mary Hannah and other seasoned volunteers with the rescue were assisting with the dress rehearsal. Lacey would be there tomorrow, but this evening she was with her family settling the baby.

Tonight, he and Holly would do a walk-through and sound checks as much for the dogs as for the people. Tomorrow, his work-mandated project with Mary Hannah would be officially complete. His boss would be satisfied.

And Holly would go up for adoption.

His throat closed at the thought. Despite the fact that this had been the plan from the start. Right? Prepare her for a forever family. Except these past weeks made him consider another plan. He wanted to talk it through with Mary Hannah, to consider moving in together and keeping Holly.

Except Mary Hannah had been erecting walls between them since the baby was born. Since the night she'd bared her soul then promptly retreated inside herself. They slept together. They worked with Holly. But they didn't talk, not about anything important.

Still, he knew. She was pulling away. He was losing her.

She stood silently between him and her other entrants, the military family.

The wife, Callie, held her son's hand while her husband sat in his wheelchair with the Cairn-Terrier pup in his lap.

Holly barked, again and again.

Mary Hannah looked down, forehead furrowed. “Quiet, Holly.”

Holly rarely barked, but she did understand that command. Normally. Apparently not as readily today.

Callie fidgeted from foot to foot, her eyes darting around the arena. “You said Barkley was a stray that landed at the shelter. What happens if his owners show up here and recognize him? What if they decide they want him back? Maybe this public forum isn't such a good idea after all.”

The kid—Henry—looked up fast, his bottom lip trembling. “Barkley's mine, isn't he, Miss Mary Hannah? My mom and dad said I can keep him.”

Mary Hannah knelt in front of the four-year-old. “Whoever adopts Barkley has nothing to worry about. Shelters have rules. People have a certain amount of days to check for their missing pet, and then for the good of the animal, we find a new home. As long as your parents agree, you can be that home.”

She was such a natural with the child. The image of her with a baby of her own—their baby—filled AJ's mind with absolute perfection. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was able to look at a child and not feel pain thinking of Aubrey. He envisioned her happy, growing up safe and loved.

Mary Hannah would never put her child or any other child at risk. He knew that with total certainty. Just as he knew the rigid demands she put on herself would make it all but impossible to trust herself again.

“And Holly?” Henry asked. “Are you and Mr. AJ gonna keep Holly?”

She avoided AJ's eyes. “That's for him to decide.”

Callie's hands shook as she rested them on her son's shoulders. “Let's not bother them right now, Henry. I'm sure Mary Hannah has other things to do for the show.”

She tugged her son, clearly anxious to leave. Henry looked back over his shoulder, waving. Declan steered his electric wheelchair alongside his family. Something tugged at AJ, an instinct he couldn't deny, honed from years on the job.

Mary Hannah frowned. “I think I should go speak with them.”

AJ grasped her arm, stopping her. “Hold on for a second.”

She tugged back. “Can we talk later? This isn't a good time.”

“It's important,” he insisted, growing more certain by the second. “That woman, Callie Roberts, she's on something.”

Mary Hannah's eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she's twitching and fidgety, uneasy to the point of paranoia, and we haven't seen that kind of thing from her before. I'd bet my job that she's on some kind of controlled substance.”

“Maybe it's just dress rehearsal nerves?” Mary Hannah stared at the woman's retreating back. Callie looked over her shoulder twice, absently chewing on her thumbnail.

AJ's hunch only strengthened. “My gut says she's exhibiting all the signs of a meth addict.”

*   *   *

MARY HANNAH FELT
like an idiot.

AJ's suspicion about Callie made perfect sense. So much so, it should have been obvious to a trained counselor. How could she have missed it? She of all people? Guilt hammered her. This was so much worse than having gotten a bad grade on some test in school. She'd failed a human being.

A family.

She just prayed it wasn't too late to help them. “AJ, thank you for seeing what I should have picked up on months ago.”

“Don't beat yourself up over that. I think she must be using more than usual because she wasn't showing signs like that the last time I saw her. We've all been surprised by someone at some point. Addicts are good at hiding their problem.”

“I know.” God, did she ever know. Maybe she'd seen what she wanted to see in Callie, what Mary Hannah had wanted to be herself, a good mother, a loyal wife.