Deception (4 page)

He eyed the distance between the van and the house and began his awkward shuffle to the front porch, Tess beside him every painful step of the way. It’d been four days since they’d told him he had to live with Tess during his recovery. As if he were some damn invalid who couldn’t make a decision on his own. Of course as soon as he was given his walker and had attempted to walk, he’d known what a fool he’d been. Not that he’d admitted it and not that he would anytime soon either.

This wasn’t at all the way he envisioned his homecoming.

Yeah. That was him all right. Home for the holidays.

Shit.

The door swung open before Tess could put her key in the lock, and Roger stepped out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex all but growled.

Roger looked him over with a critical eye. Tess’s sister rushed forward, opening the door wider. “Roger thought you might need some help.” She took hold of his arm in an attempt to help him.

Alex glanced over her pregnant belly then back to Roger before he pulled away and gripped the walker. “I’m fine.”

The three stood back as he placed the walker in the entryway then heaved himself up the small step. He shoved away the image of the thousands of times he’d bounded into this house, never giving that small raised piece of concrete a second thought.

Roger watched him in silence and Alex scowled. “This isn’t a damn freak show.”

Shannon touched his arm. “I’m sorry this happened.”

Alex shoved down the urge to shake her hand away, realizing he was being an ass to Tess’s family. Although they weren’t his favorite people, he usually tolerated Shannon’s theatrics because she was Tess’s sister, but the two of them were grating on his last nerve.

“We should go,” Roger said quietly. “Tess, let us know if you need anything.”

A stiff wind blew in from the open door and Alex shivered as he made his way into the living room. It felt good to be home.

Home
.

The house he and Tess had picked out together and decorated together. His apartment had never been home to him. Just a place to park his ass between shifts.

It looked the same. Except the photos of the two of them were gone. His anger multiplied at the thought that she’d shoved their pictures in a drawer somewhere because she was so damn eager to be rid of him. And now here he was, back at the house. An invalid.

“I’m sorry.” Tess closed the door. “I didn’t ask them here.”

He didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what the hell to say to her anymore. Before she’d asked him to leave there had been nothing but stony silence between them. It’d been a long time since they’d had a decent conversation.

She sighed, apparently frustrated as always with his lack of communication, and went down the hall to free Othello.

His dog ran toward him and for the first time since waking in the hospital, Alex smiled. “The Big O! How ya doin’, boy?” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Othello squirmed in ecstasy and pressed his large body into Alex’s good leg.

“You should rest.” Tess stared at the dog and crossed her arms.

“Don’t baby me.” He straightened. Othello butted his hand and licked his fingers.

“Well,” Tess said. “Okay. Are you hungry, then?”

“I could eat.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and Othello followed, looking back at Alex with hopeful brown eyes.

“I’m coming,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the walker.

He whistled when he entered the kitchen. For as long as he could remember, Tess had wanted a new oven and refrigerator for her small catering business. Now a stainless steel gas oven stood in place of the old one. The refrigerator had been swapped for a restaurant-sized double-door job. Canister lights lit an island work area as big as the bathroom in his apartment. Cherry cabinets, granite counters and a terra cotta floor completed the rehab.

He lowered himself into a kitchen chair. Same table and chairs. The set they’d picked out together shortly after they got married. He ran his hand over the scarred surface. At least she’d kept the table and chairs.

“Business must be good,” he said.

“Pretty good.” She opened a cabinet and took out some plates.

“I like what you’ve done.”

“Thanks.”

There was a long silence as Othello settled his head in Alex’s lap and Alex stroked his ears. “So, Shannon’s pregnant again.”

“Yes.” Tess pulled bread out of a built-in breadbox that hadn’t been there before.

“How many does this make?”

“Four.” She reached for the peanut butter then opened the fridge for the jelly. She slathered several pieces of bread with the peanut butter and jelly, and placed two sandwiches on a plate. She’d always loved to bake but cooking hadn’t been her favorite.

“Does it bother you?”

“I’m fine with it.” Grabbing the plate and a bag of chips in one hand, she opened the fridge again, took out two cans, and kicked the door closed. She placed everything but her root beer in front of him.

Alex took hold of her hand before she had a chance to escape to the other side of the kitchen. A panicked look crossed her face but she didn’t pull away. “Are you really fine with it?”

“I’ve accepted it.”

He dropped her hand and turned to his food, disappointed that it had come to this. If he’d had any illusions of fixing their marriage, they were gone now. She’d made sure of that while he lay in a hospital bed with a shattered knee and an equally shattered career.

Tess leaned against the island and sipped her root beer while Alex ate his sandwiches.

“I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Are you?” He ate a chip and watched her, missing nothing. Not the fleeting look of pain. Not the tense way she held her shoulders or the nervous habit she had of playing with the tab on her can.

“That’s not fair, Alex. Of course I’m glad you’re okay.”

He concentrated on his chips, ashamed of his childish behavior and the need to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough. They both had.

Othello stood and sniffed under the table.

“He’s missed you,” she said.

“Have
you
missed me?”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she put her pop can down and turned away. “You can take my bedr—um, the master bedroom. The mattress is more comfortable in there. I’ll take the guest room.”

Alex braced his hands on the walker and stood. He followed her through the short hall to the two bedrooms in the back, the thump-shuffle of his slow gait echoing off the walls. Once again she’d made him feel ashamed. Embarrassed he’d asked if she’d missed him. Humiliated she hadn’t answered.

She stepped into their—
her
—room and headed for the closet.

For the past five years, their wedding picture had sat on the nightstand. Now a popular paperback and a glass of water sat there.

He shuffled to the bed and lowered himself onto it. Hearing the bedsprings squeak, Othello raced in and took a flying leap onto the mattress where he rolled to his side.

Alex laughed and rubbed the dog’s tummy. Othello opened one eye, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Tess walked across the hall into the bathroom and Alex stood. Leaving the stupid walker behind, he followed Tess using a combination of hobbling and hopping. It was only a dozen or so steps but when he grabbed hold of the bathroom doorframe, sweat was beading on his upper lip and he felt both hot and cold. Blood rushed from his head and he swayed.

Damn.
Fainting is not an option, Juran
.

Everything went dark and his hands lost their grip on the doorframe.

“Alex!”

He tumbled, his knee screaming in pain and his body hitting something hard.

When he opened his eyes, his head was cradled in Tess’s lap and her fingers were running through his hair. The scene would have been cozy if he wasn’t lying half under the pedestal sink.

“You passed out.”

“I don’t pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “You just wanted to check the floor to see if I’d mopped lately, right?”

“Right.” He traced her jaw with his finger.

She looked at him with the shadows of six months of separation between them. “Alex…”

“Not now, Tessie.”

His hand cupped the back of her head. She came willingly, easily, her breath fanning his face, her heat warming him.

“Tess, I—”

A wet nose shoved its way between them. Othello whined and licked Alex’s face.

Chapter Five

“You should have died, Juran.”

Alex moaned and tried to roll over, but pain shot from his knee straight to his brain.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

Alex’s eyes flew open. He’d been home from the hospital for four days but it still took a moment to realize the white walls weren’t hospital walls and the window looked out over his backyard instead of a parking garage. He pushed the covers aside, dislodging Othello. The dog whined and jumped off the bed with a huff. He shook his head, clutched his knee and swung his legs off the bed to sit on the edge. He ran a hand down his beard-stubbled face and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

What had that dream been about? And why was this the third night in a row he’d had it? Othello nudged his elbow with his cold wet nose and Alex patted him absently, thinking of Tess fast asleep in the next room and how much he hated that each night they’d awkwardly say goodnight and then part. They were strangers living together. Saying the right things, avoiding any unpleasantness.

He hated it.

Now that he was back, he missed even more the way it used to be. The laughter and the fun. The closeness.

He leaned forward to grab his walker, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. It took a few moments to position it.

“Damn glad no one’s here to see this,” he said to the dog.

Eventually, he reached the living room and stopped in front of the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Moonlight reflected off the falling snow, making the room glow. Tess had put up a Christmas tree and he looked for the ornaments they’d purchased together. Before they were even married they’d had a tradition of buying an ornament in each city they visited. Sort of a holiday scrapbook that hung on the tree. He’d always loved decorating the tree with her. They would laugh and remember their vacations together.

This year Tess had decorated with glass balls found in any discount store. Just another reminder that their memories meant so little to her. He turned back to the window only to encounter Tess’s reflection in the glass.

Face scrubbed, her hair brushed and falling almost to her waist, wearing flannel pajamas that were two sizes too big, she looked sixteen. Too young to have been married and divorced. Too young for the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if he looked older to her. Had the divorce aged him as well?

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked her reflection.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He touched the needles of the tree. “Where are our ornaments?”

“In the basement.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts too much to look at them.”

Adopting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he said, “So, get rid of them.”

“I can’t.”

“You got rid of me. What’s a box of ornaments?”

She sighed, pulled her hands up into her sleeves and stepped closer to the tree. “Getting rid of the ornaments would have hurt more than putting them on the tree.”

“So you want the memories, just not the person attached to them.”

She spun away. Instead of mere inches separating them, a couch, a dog, five years of marriage and six months of separation lay between them.

“I need to go to bed. You need to sleep too. Tomorrow’s your first physical therapy session and I need to get up early to start baking. Barbara’s been handling my business for the time being, but she can’t do it forever.”

“Tess?”

A heartbeat of time passed. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He’d never said that before. Never apologized for all the pain he’d caused. Too little, too late, he knew. Two simple words couldn’t even begin to heal a marriage full of broken promises.

She nodded and disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. Alex grabbed the walker and scooted closer to the window. Pushing the vision of Tess in her oversized pajamas out of his mind, he thought back to the night he’d been shot. It was all he’d been doing since he awoke to the realization he couldn’t remember a damn thing. And it was easier than thinking of his failed marriage.

The lieutenant and the chief had been patient but he knew they needed his memories before they could move on with the investigation.

There were images. Small things. Like the John Deere cap. Jason’s lifeless eyes. But everything in between was a solid wall of darkness. Nothing.

Damn his malfunctioning brain. He
had
to remember who killed Jason. Because what if the killer knew where Tess lived?

He stared at the back lawn, at the newly fallen snow that created a pristine landscape, and breathed deep the scent of pine.

A shadow by the maple moved. Othello padded to the window. The hackles on the back of his neck stood up and he growled.

The full moon and the snow illuminated a figure darting from the tree. Alex’s heart kick-started as the shape swung toward the house and accelerated at a dead run.

“Tess!” Alex spun around. Blinding pain shot up his leg and his knee gave out. He grabbed the small table beside him but it toppled and the Tiffany lamp that sat on top bounced off him and hit the wall.

Othello began barking. Tess came running in.

“Get down, damn it.” Alex motioned for her to drop to the floor.

She skidded to a halt right in front of the window.

Chapter Six

Alex jerked Tess down on top of him and covered her mouth with his hand as he rolled. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.

Beneath his chest he could feel the fast beat of Tess’s heart and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. He put his mouth close to her ear. “Call 911. Tell them there’s an intruder on the back lawn.”