Breaking Hearts (11 page)

I chuckled. “Guilt. Well played.”

He grinned down at me, secured Kieran once more, then gave me a wink. Dorothy was right. There really was no place like home.

“You wait here with Simon. We’ll be just fine.”

I nodded and stood at the gate while Simon closed it behind my father as he took my son out to the paths he’d carved in the woods.

Leaning against the fence, I pretended to watch the tree line, but never lost sight of Simon in my peripheral vision.

“Does it hurt?” He reached out to run his finger next to my black eye. When I flinched away, he dropped his hand to his side.

“It could have been worse.” In all honesty, I didn’t even remember the pain of that particular punch.

“Did he do this to you?” His whisper didn’t hide the hatred behind the words.

I sighed, not expecting him to understand, but… “I did it to myself, kind of. You know?”

“That’s really how you look at it?” His voice went hard, judgmental.

I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “And I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Not with him. Not ever.

He nodded. “Your boy has your chin and your lips.”

I grabbed on to the fence rail for support. A moment of panic seized my heart, and I imagined it stopping cold.

Then he grinned, and the potency of it shifted my panic to desire. “He must get all those good looks from you.”

If only he knew. I should have told him right then. “Oh, definitely.” My white-knuckled grip relaxed. He’d always been so easy to be around and nice to look at.
Even nicer now
. He’d let his hair grow long--Brad-Pitt-
Legends-of-the-Fall
long--and he had it pulled back at the top. His eyes were a deep amber color that God only blessed to sunsets, whiskey, and Simon. Jocelyn, the hellish born twin, was the younger version of their mother--beautiful and perfect, honey brown hair with sparkling blue eyes--but Simon must have been one hundred percent his father. Seeing his smile in person rather than in my memory let me forget the horror of my life, for a moment. He stood close enough to touch, and I curled my fingers into my fist to keep from reaching out.

“How long are you staying this time?”

My heart began a mambo in my chest at the almost hopeful tone of his voice. Maybe I could wait a few days, spend some time preparing him for the big news. I had too much turmoil in my own life at the moment to consider adding more. Telling him before either of us could handle the idea would be catastrophic. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

“Forever, I think.” I gazed off into the pasture at the horses grazing there. It probably sounded odd coming from my lips, but I’d come to appreciate small town life--the-everyone-knows-everyone-and-would-band-together-to-protect-one-of-its-own aspect. “I want Kieran to grow up here, like I did.” I shrugged. “My company headquarters is here and my family.”
And you. Why can’t I just say the words?
I practiced them in my mind, but couldn’t convince my mouth to over-rule my apprehension.

He smiled. “A lot’s changed since you’ve been gone.”

Boy, did I have news for him, but I decided to play along. For a minute, I wanted the normal other people had. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” His forehead crinkled as he compressed his lips and nodded. This was his version of serious--as solemn as he ever got. “We got a new water fountain at the high school.” He looked at me from the corner of his narrowed eyes. “It made the front page of the paper.”

I nodded, unable to control the upward curve of my lips or the increasing beat of my heart.

“And we got a new Dairy Queen. There’s even been talk of a supercenter.” He leaned back against the fence and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I saw it coming and closed my eyes as his fingers grazed my cheek.

“Mrs. Rosenbury’s mutt had an affair with Mr. Duncan’s poodle down the street, then gave birth to seven of the ugliest pups in the history of animals.” He waved a hand in the air. “Mr. Duncan went right out and got his poodle neutered.” He finished with wide eyes and a few nods of his head.

“Wow, I missed all that?”

“Yeah. I’ll dig up the newspaper clippings for you. You can catch up with some late night reading.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Unless you have other late night activities planned.”

As I stood there with the second strongest person I knew, it was easy to forget Sean and concentrate on Simon, easy to pretend like nothing had ever come between us and I wasn’t a big old liar. “Same old Simon.”

He shrugged. “Not exactly the same.” He brought his head forward and took out the leather band holding his hair out of his face. I didn’t have to guess about the changes. The scar at his hairline said it all.

“How have you been?” I asked the question to shove my shame to a dark corner in my mind.

He shrugged, his face serious, the smile faded. “It’s slow going, but your mom helps.” My mother had been working with him for weeks to see what of his memory remained. So far, not much survived the bullet. “At least I can cover it with hair.”

My skin heated at the way I had reacted to his scar the first time I saw it, and I turned my gaze to face him completely. He’d been newly recovered, and I’d been my horrible self, saying ugly things to him about the scar, using insults to protect my breaking heart. “Simon, the day in the bakery”--I moved closer and pushed his hair off his forehead, revealing the star shaped scar--“I was upset because you were with someone else
again
. I should have held it together and not taken all my crap out on you. I’m sorry.” I pressed a kiss to the scar and gasped when he pulled me against him.

“Seriously?” He leaned against the fence. “That’s all I get, after all this time? You kiss my scar?” My eyebrows drew together as he continued. “I have two perfectly good lips right here and you go for my scar?”

I shook my head. “I’m married, Simon.”

He nodded and dropped his arms, setting me free enough to step back if I was so inclined. Which I wasn’t, no matter what I’d just said.

“I know.”

“I can’t do this.” Even if I wanted to more than I wanted to draw another breath.

“Because you love him?”

I blew out a breath on a dry laugh. “Oh, God no. Not even for a minute.” I looked out into the woods. How could I explain it? I wanted to be a better person, and better people didn’t cheat. They didn’t lie, either, but I was working in baby steps.

Mom used words like “depression” and “overwhelming grief” to describe my
condition
. Dad’s words of wisdom included “buck up” and “I’ll kill that SOB.” Those, incidentally, made me feel better than anything else. The plain and simple truth… I suffered from loneliness and regret from my own faulty decision-making.

I steered clear of the barn and anywhere else I might run into Simon--town, church, the grocery store, daylight. Hiding out made sense. I wanted to see him too much and not for the right reasons. Ravaging Simon, while a very real possibility, would probably get me run out of town by a bunch of broom carrying biddies whose moral code provided the standard we were all to live by. They’d chased me off once. I wasn’t giving them a second go at me. To remain in their good favor, I had to walk the straight and narrow, toe the line, become their small town cliché.

One Tuesday morning, though, fate--and my mother--stepped in. When I came down for breakfast, Simon sat across the table with a tall stack of pancakes in front of him.

I hadn’t bothered with a hairbrush or changing from my pajamas, and couldn’t even remember where I’d put my makeup bag. Simon, on the other hand, could have stepped out of a magazine. A vintage T-shirt with an Aerosmith logo on the front hugged his broad chest and ripped stomach. His hair was captured in the back by a ponytail and, if I hadn’t known better, I would have said he had another growth spurt since I last saw him.

He whistled. “That is a stunning garment, Miss Clothing Designer.”

I ignored him and poured a cup of coffee. What the hell time did these people get up? My mother’s hair, sleek and straight, gleamed in the morning sun streaming through the window. I leaned over his shoulder, inhaling his bottled-by-the-gods-cologne. Early morning perfection annoyed me. His cologne did not.

“I design kids’ clothes, but if I knew you were going to be here, I would have spent the night stitching sequins on my freaking robe. However”--I shot a pointed glare at my mom--“no one told me we were having breakfast guests.”

“Jolly in the mornings, isn’t she?” Even the sight of his grin did nothing to calm my annoyance at my mother.

“Yeah. I’m a regular Santa Claus.” I sat across from him and pretended to read the newspaper for a few minutes, but ignored the printed word. Instead, I wished for a hairbrush and a prettier robe. The little hairs on my arms stood on end, and I glanced up, mouth open, ready to be flip, to ask why the hell he kept popping up, making me uncomfortable in the place where I should have been most secure. Something in his eyes made me snap my jaw shut.

After several moments of intense staring, I finally said, “Is it rude of me to ask what you’re doing here?”

“Kind of.” Mischief crinkled the corners of his mouth before he sobered and blew out a breath. “Your mom asked me to come.”

I squinted at her. “Of course, she did.” I had to find a way to convince her my relationship with Simon didn’t require meddling.

“Dani, something happened.” From the look on her face--tight line of her lips, drawn brow, and a wariness clouding her eyes--something very bad happened. Her lids lowered, and she wrung the fingers of one hand with the other. “I got a phone call from Sean. He asked for you, but I told him we didn’t know where you were, that we hadn’t heard from you.”

In the semi-darkness of my first night home, the only concrete plan we’d concocted involved lying about my whereabouts.

“Obviously, he knows otherwise. This arrived last night.” She handed me an envelope with a single picture of Kieran and me as we played in the yard a few days earlier. “I want you to let me and your dad take Kieran with us on a vacation.”

A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t argue with the logic behind a trip, considering Sean could be sitting outside in his car waiting for me to come out. For all I knew, he could have a sniper rifle aimed at my head as I sat in the kitchen. I glanced out the patio doors fearing the worst. However, Sean was too lazy to park himself in a tree doing recognizance on the slim chance he’d be able to nab Kieran. “How long would you be gone?”

Mom considered her hands carefully. “Until you figure out how to get this mess with Sean resolved. Until Kieran is no longer in danger.”

All the mistakes I’d ever made flashed through my mind--a wedding to a man I hardly knew, Keaton’s face when I told him about Kieran, Kieran bloody and scared, Simon…a lot of Simon. A tear slipped down my cheek and I swiped at it. “When do you want to go?”

“Your dad made reservations for a flight this afternoon.” Her no-nonsense-I’m-not-asking-I’m-telling tone left little room for negotiation. The decisions had all been made because my parents, once again, believed I’d failed. Telling me was nothing more than imparting information. She covered my hand with hers. “We want you and Kieran to be safe.”

I turned to Simon, unreasonable in my anger. The rational part of me knew he hadn’t forced this on me; the part in charge of my mouth blamed him for breaking up with me all those years ago. Bitterness burned my tongue as I breathed in a huffy puff of air. “So, my safety is where you come in?” The venom in my voice should have warned him away, but he grinned. A second later, at my angry huff, he sobered and used his fork to toy with food on his plate.

Instead of slinking away to hide from my wrath, he shrugged. “Depends on you, I guess.”

I nodded. “And if I say I don’t want your help?” Which I didn’t. I wanted his gun.

He grinned. “I have a couple options I’m working on.”

My eyebrows shot heavenward as I whipped my head to look into his eyes.

“Not that, dirty girl.” He chuckled, then stopped when I frowned. My mother was sitting between us, and innuendo had no place in my day. Nothing about the situation amused me. “I can convince you--or try to--or I can park my car out front and watch you from the driveway. Of course, kicking me out means two of us would be watching you from the street and no one would be in here making sure you’re safe.”

I pulled my cell from my pocket and stabbed Sean’s number into the keypad. After one split second of indecision, I hit send and drilled my fingers against the table top until he answered. “Sean, why are you doing this?” Just talking to him stole my confidence and my voice shook.

My mother’s gasp almost drowned out his reply. “I want my family back.”

“You didn’t want us when we were your family.” He’d wanted something, maybe a wife and a kid, but not what I’d given him.

“No one walks away from me.”

My skin prickled while a mixture of fear and anger hammered in my chest. “I walked away from you because you hurt my boy. And we’re not coming back. God, Sean.” I’d found my fury, but buried it as though he could reach through the phone and hurt me.

“He’s our boy.” His voice rose as anger charged him.

I’d heard it happen a hundred times or more, and I could tell without seeing his face.

“And you go ahead…keep telling yourself I can’t make you come home to me. I can, and I will. By the end of the week, you and
our
boy better be home.”

“He’s
my
boy, and I’m not scared of your threats.” I could probably have been more convincing if my voice hadn’t cracked, but that one weakness didn’t diminish the power building my convictions. I’d almost let Sean destroy him once. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“You better not be telling people what happened, at least not your warped twisted little version, or I’ll kill you.”

I’d been beaten, kicked, held prisoner in our house… Of course, my courage came easy at nine hundred miles away, with Simon opposite me and my Dad’s gun case not fifty feet from where I sat. “I would be scared, but you’d have to stay sober to do it, and we both know that isn’t your strong suit.”