Back to You: Bad Boys of Red Hook (38 page)

“You’re using that?” Rocki and Patrice asked in stereo.

“I don’t have luggage of my own—I’ve never been anywhere.”

Rocki spread her legs and arms, blocking the hallway, and looking like a sexier punk version of Elastigirl. “You can’t take those relics. They belong in a museum. Use mine. I just have to run home and get them.”

“No time.”

“When is the plane?” Patrice asked.

“I don’t know. I have to call and book a flight.”

Patrice stepped in front of Rocki. “Where’s the fire, Bree? It took you two weeks to make the decision, and now you’re racing to leave? What are you running from?”

“Nothing. It’s what I’m running to. I can’t stay, and
I’m afraid if I slow down, I’ll lose my nerve and I’ll be trapped here forever.”

Patrice looked hurt. “You think we’re trapping you?”

“No, not you, me. Storm was right. I’m turning into my mother. I have to find him and make things up to him. You two will look after my mom and Pete when I’m away, won’t you?”

Patrice and Rocki both gave her a stunned nod.

“Good. That’s good.” Bree pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I have to go, don’t you see? I have to, or I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it. Even if it doesn’t work out between us, he’s worth the risk. If Storm doesn’t want me, at least I’ll have done something, I’ll have put my heart out there on the line, I’ll be living—really living and not trapped in some kind of sick half life. I love you guys, but I have to go.”

A look passed between Rocki and Patrice as if they made a silent agreement. Patrice grabbed Bree’s shaking, slightly clammy hand and squeezed it. “Okay. Come on Rocki. Let’s run to your place and pick up your luggage. Bree, we’ll be back in twenty minutes, thirty tops.”

“What am I going to do for thirty minutes?”

Rocki rolled her eyes. “Primp, of course, and then get everything together to pack.”

“I need a ticket.” Bree left them staring after her and ran down to her office, got on the computer, Googled plane tickets, and clicked on the first recognizable name.

She was really going to do this. The words blurred on the screen, and she had to remind herself that people flew every day. She wasn’t afraid of flying. She just had never done it before. The whole taking off and landing thing made her nervous, so she chose the fewest number
of stops—one. New York to LA and then direct to Auckland.

“Twenty-three hundred dollars? Damn, who knew last-minute flights were so expensive?” Bree reminded herself that she’d saved money all her life, saving every last cent without even knowing what she was saving for. God, she was worse than she’d ever imagined.

Bree typed her credit card information, took a deep breath, and with a shaking finger clicked the Purchase button. Fear mixed with exhilaration and filled her as the printer spit out the boarding pass and itinerary. Now all she had to do was pack and find several pairs of big-girl panties. She just hoped they didn’t look like Depends.

The last time Storm had made the trip from JFK to Red Hook it had been the middle of the night, and, in the heat of summer, it had felt like a drive straight into hell. It was amazing how his entire life changed in just two months. The bright blue skies and chilly temperatures welcoming him home would have made the trip enjoyable if he hadn’t been sweating his reception.

He’d screwed up royally—again. He scrubbed his hands over his face and imagined what Breezy would hit him with when he came through the door this time. He was just glad New York had strict gun laws.

Storm had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to come up with a way to win Bree back. When his cab pulled up to the Crow’s Nest, he still hadn’t come up with a sure thing. And that was what he needed—a sure thing. He couldn’t afford to lose Breezy again. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. He didn’t want to. Being away from her for a few weeks had been worse then the eleven years they’d been apart. He couldn’t go on like this.

Storm got out of the cab and found Francis backed up against the wall with fear in his eyes and Rocki and Patrice
bearing down on him like a couple of rabid dogs—cute dogs, but dogs all the same.

Patrice poked Francis in the chest, sharpened claws enunciating every word. “If you let her leave, Francis Salvatore DeBruscio, you’ll spend the rest of your natural life on the couch. Got it?”

Storm heaved his duffel over his shoulder, grabbed his computer case with the other hand, and stepped into Francis’s line of vision.

A look of pure relief crossed his face. He stood straighter and pointed right at Storm. “He’s here. He’s here.”

Rocki and Patrice turned, spotted him, and shot him matching grins. He wasn’t sure if they were happy to see him or looking forward to planning his funeral.

Francis wiped beads of sweat off his forehead. “Bree’s upstairs. I hope for your sake, and mine, it’s a warm welcome. I’ll say a prayer.”

“Thanks, man. You’d better light a candle for me too. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Patrice put her hands on her hips, stepped in front of him, and got in his face. “Well, Storm, what the hell are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

“Calm down, Patty.” Storm adjusted his duffel, sliding it against his back so he could fit through the door when Patrice hauled off and slugged him right in the diaphragm. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he put his free hand up to block her.

“You leave Bree again and you’ll answer to me. Do you know how painful broken kneecaps can be?”

“I have a picture in my mind.”

“Good, keep it there.” She turned to Francis and said, “Come on, we’re going to pick up Nicki from school.”

“We are?”

Patrice rolled her eyes. “Just get in the car, honey. I’ll explain it all to you on the way.” She patted his shoulder and grabbed Rocki. “Come on, Rocki. We’ll give you a ride home.” Patrice was already pushing them in front of her toward the car.

Storm looked around the neighborhood he grew up in with new eyes. He was home—in Red Hook, a place he’d known all his life but had to search the whole world to find.

He drank in the scent of home, climbed to the top of the stairs, and found Bree’s door wide open. She’d just walked into her bedroom. He slipped down the hall and peeked in.

Breezy had her head buried in her closet, taking clothes out, examining them, and either putting them back or tossing them on a pile on the bed. “How long does it take to pick up a freakin’ suitcase? Where the hell are they?”

Storm needed to say something. He’d intended to surprise her, but the longer he watched, the more he felt like a creepy stalker. “I saw Rocki, Patrice, and Francis leave just a minute ago.”

Bree stumbled out of her closet and sat hard on the bed, crushing a slanted pile of clothes beneath her. Her mouth hung open, her eyes confused and unblinking, her face devoid of color. He’d seen that look before—it was the same look she wore when he’d told her that he’d made love only to her. It was as if she thought she was hearing things, or in this case seeing things.

“Breezy, can I come in?”

She blinked once, so he took it as a yes.

He held his breath and stepped inside. Damn, he
should have stopped to get her some flowers, a ring, something. He just stood there, looking stupid with his duffel bag and computer case. Maybe he did deserve a crack on the head. He dropped his bags on the floor, pulled her off the bed and into his arms. “Now that’s much better.” He nuzzled her neck, drinking in her scent of citrus, spice, and Breezy. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“What are you doing here?” She seemed more shocked than angry, but she didn’t push him away.

“I fixed the problem with the boat and came home. I never should have left like I did. I should have taken time to talk to you and hear you out. I’m sorry.”

“You ran.”

“I kept telling myself I had to leave—and I did. I have a lot riding on this boat, but it was an excuse for running. You’re right. But it was different this time: I didn’t run because I was scared; I ran because I was hurt. I was hurt that you didn’t feel you could trust me. I was hurt because the man I love and respect most in the world thought I was capable of deserting my own child.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Breezy, I loved you when we were kids, but what I feel for you now—it’s not even in the same galaxy. I fell in love with you all over again. I fell in love with a woman who would take down a grown man with a frying pan to protect a child she loves. I fell in love with the woman who single-handedly dealt with Pop and turned a run-down longshoreman’s dive into a classy, thriving restaurant and bar. I fell in love with a woman who worked tirelessly in her father’s memory to make her home the incredible place Red Hook is becoming. I fell in love with you, Nicki, and my hometown. I want to come back
to you, Breezy, if you’ll have me. I want to be here with you and our family. I don’t think I can go on without you. I don’t want to try.”

She blinked back tears, and she hadn’t kicked his ass to the curb yet. He took it as a good sign. She still wore that shell-shocked look, but that was okay. She’d process it in her own time.

He looked pointedly at the bed covered with clothes. “So, what are you doing with all this stuff?”

“I was packing, but I remembered I don’t even have luggage.”

“Where are you going?”

“Patrice and Rocki goaded me into applying for my passport after you left. I was mad at you and I was hurt, but most of all I was scared. You’ve been right since day one. I was becoming my mother.”

“Hold on. I didn’t mean—”

Bree rested her finger on his lips. “I was. I didn’t see it at first. My mother doesn’t leave her house except to go out into her backyard. She’s afraid of life, and I’ve been enabling her for years.” She shook her head as if to rid herself of something. “Storm, did you know that I’ve never gone more than a hundred miles from Red Hook?”

He shrugged. “So. It’s not a federal offense. A lot of people don’t travel.”

“It wasn’t because I didn’t have the opportunity. I could have gone to Europe for a semester abroad; I had a job offer in California. I just didn’t have the guts. And I was afraid to love you, afraid to let you love me.”

“Bree, you love Red Hook. It’s your home.”

“Yes, but Red Hook is a place. I wanted to fulfill my father’s dream and make Red Hook everything it can be. But that was his dream. I finally figured it out. Red Hook
is home, but the only place I’ve ever felt complete was with you. So today I bought a plane ticket.”

“What?”

Bree pulled a bunch of papers out of her pocket and held them over her chest. “I just spent twenty-three hundred dollars on a ticket to Auckland because that’s where I thought you were. I was going to see if you’d forgive me and come back to me. I love Nicki and Pete, and I love my job, but I don’t want to live without you ever again. Storm, I loved the boy you were and the man you’ve become. I’ll love you forever.”

“Thank God.” Storm kissed her and couldn’t believe his luck. He pulled the ticket from between them and let out a laugh.

“I don’t see what’s so damn funny. It’s a nonrefundable ticket, and the plane leaves in three hours.”

He tossed the ticket and her passport onto the floor. “Looks like you’re gonna be missing your flight, babe.” With one swipe of his hand, the pile of clothes flew off the bed, and then he kissed her, backing her up to the bed. He had her pants unbuttoned and was pulling her shirt up, which meant he had to release her mouth.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement and anger—his favorite combination. “Are you telling me I just blew twenty-three hundred dollars?”

“No, we just need to change the ticket.” He hoped. He loved seeing the fire in her, but he wasn’t about to push it.

Her shirt hit the ground, and he tackled her onto the bed. His body covered hers and he was almost home; he just needed to lose his pants and hers. He looked down at her, her hair wild, her eyes flashing, and her lips swollen from his kisses.

“What the hell are we going to do with the ticket?”

“I guess there’s always the honeymoon.” He was getting used to her shocked look. It didn’t scare him half as much as it used to. Still, he felt the need to clarify. He’d never proposed to anyone before and hoped to hell he never had to again. “You know that thing you do after you get married?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Was that a yes?”

There was that fire in her eyes again. Only now the heat danced with anticipation and promise. “Uh-huh. Welcome home, Storm.”

Bree parked her car outside the Crow’s Nest and looked over at her mother. “Are you doing okay?” It had been almost three weeks since her mother, with much arm-twisting, had agreed to get help for her problem. The medication and biweekly visits to a caring therapist were working wonders.

Her mother gave her a shaky smile. “The therapist said it was going to be difficult, but it’s something I’m strong enough to do. I’ll be fine.”

Bree reached over and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you, Mom.”

Noreen teared up. “I’m so sorry, honey. I should have done this so long ago…. I wasted so much time. If I had known—”

“Stop. You’re doing something about it now. That’s all that matters, right?”

Noreen took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and pasted on a smile. “Right.”

“Good. Coretta will be there with Patrice and Francis and their kids, Pete and Nicki, of course, Storm and Logan, and probably Rocki.”

Bree got out of the car and placed her hand on top of the door, her new engagement ring clinking against the frame. She still wasn’t used to wearing it and couldn’t help but admire the way the pear-shaped diamond caught the light. She’d never been happier and did her best not to sigh.

When she looked up, her mother smiled at her—a real honest-to-goodness smile. Noreen Collins lit up like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Bree had even talked her into Internet shopping, and she wore a new outfit. “Mom, you look amazing. I’m so glad you’re here.” She walked around the car and took her mother by the hand like she used to. Instead of stifling, it felt as natural as she suspected it should. Hand in hand they walked toward the Crow’s Nest.