Flushed (19 page)

Too late. Kerry scooped up the ring and, apparently
mistaking Kim’s warning for an invitation, lobbed the damn thing in Kim’s
direction just as Bob’s shoulder struck him in the chest.

The rest seemed to happen in slow motion. Kerry’s arms
pinwheeled as he fought for balance. His collision with a surprised-looking
Steven. Their sickening skid to the edge. The section of gutter breaking loose
under their combined weight.

“Kerry!” Kim scrabbled over the roof—throbbing head, bad
form, flat palms—too late, too late. His brother and Isabelle’s ex had gone
over the edge, landing on the hood of Kim’s Jeep below. Thank god he’d parked
so close to the house. “Kerry!”

He held his breath, waiting for hopeful signs. Of all the
times Kerry had pushed in and tried to help, this was the first he could
remember being glad of the backup, the advice. He wanted the chance to tell
Kerry. He needed to thank him for being a big brother Kim could count on.

Kerry moved sluggishly, untangling himself from the
stunned-looking Steven who seemed to have cushioned the fall. At least the
moron was good for something. Kim had only a heartbeat to feel glad of Kerry’s
safety before a muffled cry behind him had his pulse hammering anew.

Isabelle.

Just as Kim looked up, Bob fell on her and the two of them
started to roll.

Isabelle’s head struck the shingles and the textured paper
sanded a raw spot on her forehead. She’d been on her knees, stuffing the ring
on her finger when he knocked her flat. Bob. She knew by the smell of him, the
weight of him, the cruel way his fingers bit into her shoulders. Then he put
all that weight into motion, holding her tightly as he rolled with her. First,
her face to the sky, then intimate with the shingles while he pressed her down,
and on and on. If she began screaming, she might chip a tooth. If she began
screaming she’d surely never stop.

She jammed at Bob with her elbows—easy when she was on top
of him, painful when she wasn’t. She tried to kick, but she couldn’t keep track
of the blurred world canting around her, let alone her own body’s place in it.

Her own nearness to the edge. A big fall. A concrete
landing. A death on the driveway. Another death. Kim’s brother had gone
over…Kim calling after him, unanswered—

Oh god.

If Bob went with her—if she landed on him—would it save her
life?

No. The fall would kill her. The fright would kill her.

Her knees, bent from trying to kick, struck the roof hard.
Her impact spread them wide and she suddenly stopped rolling. Bob lost his grip
on her and slid down-roof. She should move. Get farther away. Farther up-roof.
She couldn’t. Her hands hurt and her face stung and she was terrified and
crying, which pissed her off, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t
help herself.

Crap, crap, crap, crap.

Kim had never felt more helpless than when Bob launched
Isabelle toward the edge of the roof. There was no way to stop them rolling
without an anchor or rope or some sort of help. All he could do was try to keep
up, his heart in his throat, his head throbbing.

Isabelle whiplashed to an unexpected stop on the sloped roof
and Bob slid free. She appeared to be safe. Bob’s face was unrecognizable
beneath swollen, bloody scratches, his eyes red-rimmed and crazed with
adrenaline. The man was an animal. That made him much more dangerous than Kim
had thought.

“It’s over, Bob,” he said.

“When you give me the ring,” Bob snarled.

“Not my decision to make,” Kim said, gut churning with his
own adrenaline.

Bob grunted. “No wonder you have a girl’s name. You are so
whipped.”

“No wonder you take things from other people. You have no
friends,” Kim said, hoping he wouldn’t be sick. He figured Bob must be tired
too, for him to be talking so much.

Isabelle lay on her side, legs drawn up, head in toward her
chest. He couldn’t see her face, only her scraped-up feet and ankles. The red
gem flashed like a signal lamp from the bent knuckle of her index finger. She’d
caught Kerry’s throw, the one intended for him. Amazing. He wished she hadn’t.
He hoped she was okay. If Bob had hurt her, he wasn’t sure what he might do to
the man. Assuming he could do anything, the way he was feeling.

Motion caught his attention. Bob was moving up-roof.
Isabelle’s body was between him and Kim. Persistent bastard. Kim stood up.

His vision was instantly swamped with pulsing clouds of
purple and gray, his equilibrium so off-bubble he hadn’t a clue whether he was
standing straight or about to tumble. He hurriedly bent his knees and put a
steadying hand flat to the shingles. Lower center of gravity. Reduced danger of
injury. He just had to wait for his vision to clear.

When Kim suddenly stood up, Isabelle knew there was trouble.
When Kim nearly keeled over, she knew he was in no shape to handle it.

Over.

It was over. Bob’s shadow was falling across her and it was
over.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she were safe inside the
house. Wishing she’d never known about the ring. Wishing her life hadn’t been
derailed, that it was filled with undamaged hats and men who didn’t cheat and
comfy friends at Monday-night dinner parties.

But it wasn’t. Her comfy life was over. She lived among
shattered glass and Charlie’s infidelity and rooftop chases. And Kim Martin’s
kisses. And his kindness.

And hordes of women in lustful pursuit.

Bob’s pulped features swam into view, utterly mindless, his
teeth bared. Testosterone. She’d had quite enough of that crap. “Men suck,” she
snarled. She drew back her fist and let fly. She connected with the side of
Bob’s head and he dropped like a bag of wet laundry.

The sound of Bob crumpling to the roof was one of the better
things she’d heard today, but it couldn’t compare with what she heard next.

The sound of approaching sirens.

Kim sat beside Isabelle on the shingles as the police
manipulated ropes and pulleys. Isabelle was without a doubt the most amazing
woman he knew. Acrophobic or not, she’d clocked Bob unconscious. The police
were taking him off the roof with a rescue litter.

“You going to tell me that’s safe?” she asked, staring at
the rescue operation.

“I wish I could tell you otherwise,” Kim said. “I wouldn’t
mind Bob taking a few more nicks and scratches.”

Down below, Steven was already in custody. Paramedics had
seen and released Kerry. That was as much as Kim had been able to get from the
rescue crew, but knowing Kerry’s injuries were minor put his mind at ease.

“I wouldn’t mind if they dropped him on his head,” Isabelle
said.

“Yeah.”

“Stacey is in love with him and he’s not who she thought he
was, not even a little bit. It’s so unfair.” Her fists were clenched, her chin
on her knees, an angry, sitting-up version of the fetal position. In spite of
her fright, she was functioning. In fact she didn’t seem as frightened as
before. Strong willed. A lioness. Amazing.

“She looked at him the way she wanted to look at him,” Kim
said. “All he had to do was play into that.”

“I’m sure it will make her feel better when I say, ‘Oh,
well, you were stupid,’” Isabelle said.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Isabelle.”

They had Bob strapped into the litter and were lowering him
off the roof.

“Men suck.”

Did he say strong willed? She was certainly stronger than he
was. Kim watched the police work as a piece of himself died. He’d given his
all, he’d told her how he felt. Could be she still wasn’t ready for a
relationship, but it felt as if she just didn’t want him. He’d had enough of
that for one lifetime. He was done.

“Charlie sucks,” she added unexpectedly.

“I thought Charlie…” Kim started, then shut up. What was the
point?

“Charlie cheated on Gina. Probably more than once. And I’m
the one telling him how to get her back because he’s my brother and I love him
and it’s so unfair.”

That was it. Another man Isabelle had trusted had been
unfaithful in a relationship. All men were cheaters and liars and unless Kim
decided to become Kimberly, he would forever be guilty by association.

“Kim?”

“Mm?” he asked, not sure he could handle it if she had more
on the subject. He was tired. He was done.

“I don’t care if it’s safe. I don’t want to go that way.”
Her voice broke his heart all over again, hoarse and frayed. Before he could
think to protect himself, he put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned
against him, warm and fragile. She grabbed at his shirt. She began punching
him, chest and ribs and shoulders. Not so fragile. He held her tighter. She
punched him harder. Luckily, she didn’t have room to swing the way she had on
Bob. He held her as she pummeled him for being a man and he looked at the roof
and he tried to make his brain work in spite of the emptiness inside.

If she wouldn’t go down in the litter, how was he going to
get her down the ladder? Maybe the police would lend them a climbing harness or
two and he could—

“Austin,” she said, still punching him. “Why didn’t you tell
me, you son of a bitch?”

“I know,” he said. “I thought of it a dozen times, but there
was always something. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do long-distance. It will destroy me. I’ll see you
with pretty blondes in yoga tops, or auburn waitresses or French girls who give
you cologne and venereal disease.”

Kim knew she wasn’t trying to be funny, but he couldn’t help
himself, and once he started laughing, it was hard to stop. After a while, she
stopped punching him, merely vibrating in his arms. Maybe she was laughing too.

He played one of her curls through his fingers, his chest
aching. If she weren’t so proud, things might have been different. There would
have been none of the “no dating” nonsense and confusing brush-offs and
maddening misunderstandings. But then, if she weren’t so proud, she wouldn’t be
Isabelle. Wouldn’t be his lioness.

“If we were long-distance, ‘Belle, I would still be with
you. You alone. I love you.”

And that’s when he realized she wasn’t laughing, she was
crying. Isabelle was crying. Fierce Isabelle, angry Isabelle, reduced to tears
over him.

“Don’t cry,” he said, feeling desperate. “I’m not worth it.
Ask Kerry. Ask anyone.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I trusted you.”

And that was the rub of it.

“I’ve no good excuse, not about Austin. I should have found
a way to bring it up. Maybe even when we first talked about how much I love
climbing. That’s why I’m going. Meet people, make contacts, build a business.”

He should have spoken up that morning, for sure. Once it
seemed clear she’d green-lighted a relationship—or at least sex—a decent guy
would have made the effort.

“Maybe I
do
suck,” he conceded, still holding her.
“Do I get points for sucking in a new way, at least?”

She punched him again, but weakly. Her face was to his
shirt, hidden from him. “New?”

“I’m a one-at-a-time guy. I once dated a plumbing client who
turned out to be not quite divorced. Now
that
sucked. So I know what I’m
about when I say, no cheating. Not ever.” Was he telling her that just in case
she’d overheard Kerry bring up that painful mistake? Not entirely. He was also
sticking up for his gender. And himself.

One of the police, a twenty-something blond man wearing a
black ball cap with “Dallas Police” embroidered on it and a climbing harness
over his uniform shorts, walked across the roof and crouched near them. “Excuse
me, folks, but we need to get you off the roof. We’re ready for your
statements.”

As the cop extended a hand toward Isabelle, she shrank
against Kim. Getting her off the roof—getting her moving again at all—had just
become the only argument that counted.

He’d told her she demanded his best. It was time to see how
much better he could be.

Isabelle leaned into Kim as she stared at the cop’s extended
hand. He was offering to help her up? She was already up. She was more up than
she ever wanted to be again. Ever.

“Do we need to get another litter here?” the cop asked. He must
have seen the panic in her eyes.

“She has her own style, Officer,” Kim said, his arm still
warm around her. “Give us a minute?”

“I won’t do it,” she said when the cop had gone, hating that
heights brought out the cowardly two-year-old inside her. “I can’t.”

“Have you ever been to Monahans State Park, out I-20, past
Odessa? Seen those awesome dunes, like every kid’s idea of
Arabian Nights
?
One great big sandbox?”

She nodded, wondering what he was getting at. “When Mom and
Daddy Trey were first married, we all went there on the way to Big Bend.” She
hadn’t thought of that in years.

“You remember how you can rent a sled at the park office?”

“One of those saucers.” A big plastic concave disc with a
couple of nylon grip straps attached.

“That’s right. And you’re thinking it’s going to be fast and
wild, like on snow. Only it’s not. They give you a chunk of wax to rub over it,
but even so, it’s awkward sledding, right?”

She hadn’t ever sledded on snow, but she nodded anyway.

“It’s like—” he straightened his legs, leaned back and
scooted down-roof on his butt. His expression dared her to follow suit.

He was trying to get her off the roof. She agreed with being
down, but part of her would prefer to just close her eyes and have it be over.
Not that that was likely.

“Remember?” he prodded, nodding encouragement.

She did it before she could talk herself out of it.

“Well, okay,” he said, casting a critical eye over her as
she did, “but it’s really more like—” He scooted again.

She locked gazes with him and followed.

They reached the edge. Below, an ambulance and police cars
with flashing lights punctuated the chaos of human activity. Why were there so
many people?

Some she recognized as her neighbors, mostly neighbors’
children, all looking up. Expecting her to fall, maybe hoping she would.

“Hey,” Kim said, squeezing her hand to get her attention.
Much as she wanted to look away from the edge and the drop and the spectators
held in suspense, it seemed impossible.

“Do you like to dance, Isabelle?” He squeezed her hand again.

She swallowed, finding her throat too tight to speak. Her
pulse boomed in her ears. It was such a long way down. Dancing. Moving at all.
It was out of the question, at least until she noticed he’d let go of her hand.

“Kim?” She looked around in a panic.

“Right here.” He was over the edge, getting on the ladder as
if it was no big deal.

“Don’t leave me!” God, she hated the desperation in her
voice.

“Of course I won’t. I’m just checking the ladder. It’s a lot
more secure than last time you were on it.”

“Yes?”

He patted the top rung. “Like a rock. Come see.”

She scooted sideways until the ladder was in front of her
feet. Her fingertips were likely bleeding, as hard as she pressed into the roof
shingles, trying to hold on.

“So you never answered me about dancing,” he said, so calm
and casual, as if his lip weren’t oozing blood.

She nodded because he was nodding. Following him was easier
than thinking.

“Come closer, then,” he said, holding out a hand.

She inched down, knees bent until her heels were at the edge
of the shingles. The gutter seemed shockingly cool by comparison as the toes of
her bare foot came to rest.

The edge. From here there was nothing but air and danger and
the chance these would be her last moments on earth.

“Oh god.”

“Look at me, Isabelle,” Kim said, still calm. Beyond him,
the view was treetops and neighbors’ roofs. She didn’t want to look over
neighbors’ roofs. “Right here,” he said, drawing an invisible circle around his
face with his finger.

“You’re bleeding.” Her teeth chattered.

“You say that to all your dance partners?”

His hand was once again outstretched, waiting patiently to
get her off the roof. He hadn’t told her not to be scared or even that she
shouldn’t worry.

She flashed back to the night of the break-in, how he’d
given her room to scream and curse—the first man in her life who hadn’t tried
to contain or control her. And here he was, still giving her space to make her
own decisions, even as he worked to get her out of a dangerous situation.

She looked into his beautiful ringed eyes and saw a man who
had offered more than gifts or sex or fun. He had offered her partnership.

I love him.

The truth of it made her breath catch in her chest.

“Yes,” she said, reaching for his hand. She meant,
Yes, I
believe you. Yes, I admire you. Yes, I know you will never let me fall.

She couldn’t say any of it right now with all the empty air
still between them and the safety of the ground.

His touch was almost safety enough for her. Her shivering
eased and she was able to follow his simple instructions about turning around,
even though she couldn’t hold his hand as she did it. He always had a hand on
her—ankle, hip, shoulder—guiding her dreamlike transition to the ladder. Oh,
those sandpaper fingers.

She couldn’t picture their positions on the ladder, Kim’s
warmth at her back. He covered her, his body between her and the vastness of
space. Their rhythmic descent might have been sex, her learning to answer his
movements with her own, no words needed.

One at a time, he’d said. No cheating, he’d said.

She’d fallen for some sweet words in her time. But all
along, Kim had been showing her the truth of who he was. She’d just been too
closed off to let herself see.

He’d criticized his brother for needing a sure thing even if
it meant passing by the chance at something amazing, but the same was true of
her. She’d made a habit of avoiding anything risky. Look at her chosen
business—building methodical, organized solutions for people’s homes. An
inside-the-box service if ever there was one. And of course, she had very tidy
five-year and ten-year plans for Space Craft.

There was no such map for her heart. Being burned by Daniel
and Steven—and Daddy before them—had left her hyper-vigilant in that
department. It was exhausting.

At her back, Kim shifted another rung down, his sleeves
brushing against hers as he adjusted his position. Kim lived with risk daily.
He was good at managing risk. Maybe some of that confidence and flexibility
could rub off on her. She bent her knee, lowering herself to follow his descent,
and to her surprise, her bare sole touched concrete.

“I can’t believe how brazenly you’ve been buildering, right
under the cops’ noses,” Kim whispered in her ear. “You are an extraordinary
woman.” He released the ladder and stepped back.

Immediately, she missed his warmth, his touch. Then sounds
rushed in. Applause. Even some cheering. It seemed very loud, as if Kim had
protected her from the whole world and all its chaos. And now he’d left,
helping her remember he’d be leaving again, soon. For Austin.

For once having her feet on the ground didn’t seem such a
good thing.

She turned to face the police and the neighbors and curious
children on their bikes. But Kim was looking at her while a paramedic taped his
hands and cleaned his face, an unspoken promise that they hadn’t said goodbye.

Goodbye.

He loved her.

He was leaving her anyway.

She gave her story to the police. And yes, she was pressing
changes, absolutely she was pressing charges. But her heart just wasn’t in it.
Her heart was in pieces, most of them on the roof.

When it was her turn to be cleaned up, the same paramedic
who’d worked on Kim examined her. He earned her unladylike commentary by
pouring hydrogen peroxide on her finger where she’d worn the ugliest of all
rings and asked her when she’d had her last tetanus booster.