Can't Shake You (30 page)

“But I want
you
.”

“Maybe right now. But people like Maddie and Fletcher aren’t gonna be shy about reminding you how much better you could do. And you know what? They’ll be right.”

She shook her head. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. All that matters is how we feel about each other and, through all of this, that’s been the one constant we’ve had. Three years ago, I fell for you and, standing here in front of you now, you are still the man I want. I love you, Josh. Don’t you know that by now?”

Jesus Christ. He covered his face with his hands and cursed. She loved him. Yeah, he supposed he knew, but still... “Carissa, I don’t want to be like your father, taking so much from you and then breaking your heart.”

She shook her head. “Not possible.”

“Babe.”

“Everything you’ve taken, I gave willingly. I haven’t been blind. And even if you do break my heart, loving you for a little while will be worth it. You’re a risk I’m willing to take.”

He dropped his hands and tipped his head to the side, holding her gaze, his emotions pouring from him with every shaky breath he took. He loved her strength, knew it would help get her through.

“I get that you’re scared,” she continued on. “And that’s okay, because I am too. But I realized something about myself this past week, thanks to you.” She reached out to take his hand and he let her. God, he was so pathetic. “I’m done running when the going gets tough. You know why? Because love is worth the heartache. I might’ve been too scared to follow my heart before, but I’m not that wounded girl anymore. This time, Josh, I
will
wait for you. As long as it takes.”

“Carissa, please—”

“Well, isn’t that the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard?”

The hairs on the back of Josh’s neck stood and he instinctively shoved Carissa behind him as he spun to face their intruder.

“And here I thought she was doing the inspector again.” Alex Kelly chuckled from a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans like he’d been standing there awhile. His grin widened. “Or maybe you’ve both been double dipping, Car. Two friends at once. Hell, sounds like fun to me.”

Josh gave a low, provoked growl. “Get the fuck out of here, Alex. This isn’t your concern.”

“Public property, man. I’ve got just as much right to be here as you and your whore.”

Josh leaped forward, but Carissa caught his hand and tugged him back. “Don’t,” she warned. “Please.”

“Aaw,” Alex sounded. “If I would’ve known there were benefits to working for you, I might’ve tried a little harder, Car.”

Grinding his jaw, Josh shook off Carissa’s grasp and stalked forward until he and Alex were nose to nose.

“Ooh, the Marine’s got balls after all, huh?” Alex bumped his chest against Josh’s, then reached up and pushed him backward.

Oh hell no. Josh launched himself forward so fast the other man didn’t have a chance to prepare. Both went flying through the air, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. Josh grabbed Alex by the front of his shirt with one hand, his other fist clenched and ready to relocate the asshole’s teeth to the back of his throat. But Alex got off the first hit, connecting with Josh’s cheekbone and jarring his face to the side. He wasted no time returning the favor however, cracking the other man’s nose and sending a spray of crimson onto the grass and down the front of Alex’s shirt.

“Hudson! Jesus Christ!”

Ears ringing and mind numb, Josh barely registered the arms pulling him off of the low life contractor. It took him a moment to realize Mark had been the referee and that he was helping Alex to his feet too.

“Go on and get out of here,” Mark said to Alex as he staggered around, trying to regain his bearings.

“You saw that, right? I wanna press charges,” he slurred, wiping blood from his face.

“Yep, I saw,” Mark replied. “And you swung first, asshole. So leave. Now. Before I take
you
in.”

Alex cursed under his breath, but he took the sheriff’s advice and stumbled away.

Josh touched his cheek and came away with blood of his own. Then he heard Carissa’s hiccup from behind him.

He turned to face her, not at all surprised to see her arms wrapped around her waist as she cried, her eyes wide and panicked, her face flushed and wet.

“Josh,” she sobbed, reaching out for him again, but he stepped back and shook his head.

“What he just said? There’s gonna be more of that.” He began to walk backwards, putting more space between them. “Let me take the fall, okay? It’s what I should have done from the beginning and it’s the least I can do now.”

T
hey say when one door closes, another opens. This was the thought that floated around in Carissa’s mind as she slowed her car and made the turn onto the long, familiar driveway, early Sunday afternoon.

She wasn’t convinced the saying was entirely true in her case—at least, she hoped it wasn’t—but it had still propelled her in the direction of a conversation and a visit that was far too long in the making.

She stopped in the bend of the circular drive and sucked in a deep, shaky breath. She had no idea what she might find behind this particular door, but opening it couldn’t possibly be any more difficult than the one Josh had slammed in her face in Friday night. In fact, this? This was going to be cake compared to the thought of losing the man she loved forever.

Stepping out into the bright, July sunshine, she took a moment to acclimate and to her surprise, she almost smiled. Not a whole lot had changed. The apple trees in the front yard were maybe a little bigger than she remembered and the wishing well lawn ornament was more weathered. But her mother’s Sweet Williams were still just as beautiful. And her father’s truck was still just as dusty.

Pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, she made her way to the house. It was late enough in the day that her father would be up, but hopefully early enough that he wouldn’t be too far gone in his daily inebriation. She hated making such assumptions, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think anything had changed since she’d last been home, years ago.

The front door was propped open, allowing the warm, humid breeze to flow through the screen door and allow the melodic sound of Patsy Cline’s Crazy to waft out onto the porch. Along with the aroma of...chicken pot pie?

What the...?

“Dad?” She knocked on the frame of the screen door, but her curiosity propelled her inside without an invitation. It was her childhood home after all. Knocking was more of a nicety than a requirement, right?

Once inside, her eyes widened at the scene in before her. The hallway was no longer paneled with the gaudy faux wood she’d hated as a self-conscious teenager. Instead it had been dry-walled and painted a pretty, modern sage green. Her graduation picture still hung beside her brother’s in the same spot it always had, but the other side of the hall, which had been decorated with shelves of her mother’s knickknacks, now sported a beautiful landscape scene.

A lump lodged in her throat, but before she could fully consider what the changes meant, her father appeared in the doorway, a dish towel draped over his shoulder.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d had a beard and his salt and pepper hair had been so long, it completely curled over his ears. He’d also been wearing clothes she was certain he’d slept in for days, and he’d wreaked of stale, but potent alcohol.

Today, he was clean-shaven and his hair, now almost entirely gray, was buzzed short. He was wearing a pair of clean jeans and a snug Henley that showed off the definition in his shoulders and arms. And he smelled like her favorite Sunday supper.

Carissa nearly sobbed, because for the first time in more than ten years, she saw the man she’d grown up with. The man her father had been before her mother died. Strong and completely stone sober.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said quietly, so thrown off kilter she couldn’t put together anything more.

“Afternoon, sweet pea. You’re just in time for an early dinner.” Like they’d seen each other just yesterday, he winked and angled his chin toward the kitchen.

“You’re kidding me.” She went ahead of him and, sure enough, there on the stove sat a deep, steaming baking dish of her mother’s favorite recipe. “When did you start to cook?”

“Oh, I’ve always cooked. But I started your mom’s Sunday tradition about a year ago. Makes for great leftovers during the week.” He took a couple plates from the cupboard and went about filling each of them. “Don’t be shy now. Pour us each a glass of milk and have a seat.”

Still dumbfounded, she nodded like an eager little kid and did as he said. She couldn’t stop staring at him though, expecting to wake up from a daydream and have him morph into the man she thought she’d find today. “You...look really good. You’ve done something different with your hair.”

He smiled, new lines creasing around his rugged features. “It’s either keep it short or admit I’m going bald.”

A laugh broke through her shock. “Haven’t you heard? Bald is beautiful.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “I suppose gray is too, huh?”

“It’s very distinguished.” She set the cups on the island and leaned forward on her elbows, watching him. Still in awe. And feeling completely, unexpectedly at home. “That smells delicious.”

“Of course, it does. It’s your mom’s specialty.” He grinned again and made an open appraisal of her as he slid her plate forward. “So, what’s his name?”

“Excuse me?” Carissa blinked.

“The guy who’s put those ugly shadows under your pretty eyes.”

“That obvious, huh?” She pushed her hair self-consciously from her face and exhaled as she sat.

“I haven’t seen you in more than two years, sweet pea. Something serious has to be going on for you to come all this way just to see your old man. Considering you’re a beautiful, single young woman—last I heard anyway—I have to assume that something is related to a man.”

“It is and it isn’t,” she admitted. “Mostly I needed to see you, but I don’t think I realized how badly until I got here. I want to clear the air, Daddy.”

Clay nodded his head. “So do I.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re sober?”

“Three hundred and forty three days.”

“Daddy, that’s wonderful.

He nodded again, humbling stirring his fork around in his food.

“I’m sorry that I—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Carissa Joy. I pushed everyone away after your mother died. That’s on me, not you.”

“I could have been more supportive. I could have—”

“You bent over backwards for me. What I needed was to lose you too, in order to realize what you’d done for me.” He turned to face her, his eyes watery. “I guess you could say I had to spend some time at the bottom in order to appreciate life at the top. It took a while to figure it out, but I knew you’d come around too, once you healed.”

The ache in Carissa’s chest burst open, as did the dam of tears behind her eyelids. Coming around the counter, her father wrapped her in a hard embrace, and she clung to him like she had the first time she’d fallen off her bike and scraped both her knees and elbows. Like she had when she’d suffered her first broke heart. And like she had when they closed the casket and said goodbye to her mother forever.

“I closed myself off,” she whispered, fat, salty tears wet her lips. “I was so afraid to hurt like that again.”

Clay smoothed down her hair, kissed her temple, and held her close. “I know, honey, I know. But you can’t go through life without feeling, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. I had to learn that the hard way.”

“I thought it would be easier,” she said into his shoulder, the cotton of his shirt growing damp. “But pretending I didn’t need any emotional attachments didn’t work out so well. And it sure came around to bite me in the ass, let me tell you.”

Clay chuckled. “It usually does.”

“I’ve made some bad decisions, Dad, and, in turn, I’ve hurt people I really care about.”

“This guy one of them?”

She nodded and, though telling her dad about her sordid love life wasn’t one of her prouder moments, she didn’t miss a single detail. “I should have followed my heart, instead of trying to fight it at every turn. I knew, Daddy. I
knew
he was the one, but I still got involved with Reed. It was like I was trying to subconsciously sabotage myself. So that no matter what, I’d never been able to have Josh and never be happy. Never have that love that you and Mom had and therefore never risk getting my heart broken.

“Worse, I got involved with him again, thinking I could keep my heart out of it, when, really, it’s had the starring role in this whole screwed up situation from the get-go.” She wiped at her face and shook her head. “I know Josh cares about me, but I’ve made things so complicated. I can’t blame him for not wanting things between us to get any messier. We wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for the choices I’ve made.”

“Now, now, it doesn’t sound like you were the only one fighting your feelings.”

“Maybe not, but I was the one who took up with his best friend.”

“I don’t have to tell you that how pointless it is to dwell on the past, sweet pea.”

She nodded. “I know. But I don’t know what to do now, how to move forward.”

Clay lifted his hands, cupped her face, and smiled. “You’re like your mother in so many ways, including your lack of patience.”

She laughed through the emotion straining in her chest. “That’s so true, it hurts.”

“The answer is right in front of you, Carissa.” He smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks and wiped away her tears. “You need to do what you didn’t before.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Patience, baby doll.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Don’t hide from your heart—trust in it. And give the boy some time to come around.”

That was all well and good, and she’d told Josh she’d wait, after all, but... “What if he doesn’t?”

“He will. I happen to know a thing or two about stubborn men just like him.”