Forever After (11 page)

She sighed. “Burgers. Definitely.”

“Burgers it is.” He shifted the truck into reverse, but keeping his foot on the brake, he turned to her, looking sheepish. “Do you mind if we make a quick sweep through town first … see if we can find out where the fire was?”

“Sure … of course.”

“Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Sure.” She tried to put him at ease with her smile, but right now he reminded her too much of Zach.

He was crazy to be having these fantasies. Especially after last night.

12

L
ucas lopped an arm over the steering wheel, stuffed another French fry in his mouth, and tried to ignore the throbbing in his knee. That pain was nothing compared to the emotional trauma he felt reliving the fiasco from an hour ago. Heat rose to his cheeks and he was grateful for the cover of darkness the pickup’s cab afforded.

Jenna’s words soothed his embarrassment somewhat, but he felt ridiculous for thinking he had anything at all to offer the firefighters of Station 2. On their way back downtown, they’d met the line of emergency vehicles returning to the station, and all had appeared quiet when they drove by the homeless shelter.

He sighed. No matter how desperately his heart longed to be back on duty again, he’d proven tonight that physically he was not ready to sit behind a desk for more than a few hours, let alone fight a fire. He was worthless. And he had no business thinking of himself as a firefighter anymore. Those days were over. It was time he faced that fact.

Beside him, Jenna sat in silence. He’d felt helpless and small in front
of her tonight. Why would a woman ever want to be with a man who couldn’t even take care of himself, much less protect her?

He quickly wiped the thought away. How dare he even think of Jenna in that way. This was his best friend’s wife he was thinking about. A woman in mourning who was living with Zach’s parents, no less. He was crazy to be having these fantasies. Especially after tonight.

“You’re sure you’re all right?”

The genuine concern on her face only made him feel worse. “I’m fine.” He choked down another bite of his hamburger. It stuck in his throat, despite how hungry he was.

He swallowed hard, took a deep breath. “Listen, Jenna. I—I’m sorry for how this night turned out. I really didn’t mean for it to be all about me.”

“Would you quit? I’m just glad you’re okay. And hey”—she winked—“just look how you took my mind off my issues.”

“You feel like talking? About your issues? Now that I’ve got your mind off of them.” He gave a dry laugh.

She joined him, then shook her head, turning serious. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. The whole town is probably wondering if I’m out of my mind. I’m not sure I really had a choice. The sad thing is, considering my options, moving in with Zach’s parents is probably what I would have chosen regardless.”

His face must have given away his confusion because she went on to explain. “My other options were getting a full-time job, finding a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. I—” She dropped her head and blew out a heavy breath. “I just couldn’t face going back. I’ve come too far.”

“Going back? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. You don’t know where I come from.
What
I come from.”

He waited for her to explain, wondering at the faraway look that came to her hazel eyes.

“White trash.”

“Huh?”

“You know how they always talk about the wrong side of the tracks? Well, that’s where I grew up. I suppose my mom did the best she could, but my sister and I grew up with nothing. I never knew my dad. He bailed before I was born. If it hadn’t been for food stamps and Goodwill …” She grimaced and closed her eyes as if speaking of her past was physically painful.

He tried not to let her see his shock at the revelation. For some reason he’d assumed she was a blueblood, like Zach. She’d certainly worn the role well as a Morgan. “Zach never mentioned any of this. But that has nothing to do with who you are, Jenna.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah … Tell that to his mom. I met Zach, and when we got married, I swore I would never go back to that life again.” Something like anguish flashed across her face, and he regretted steering the conversation this direction.

“Wow. I’m sorry.” It seemed there was nothing they could talk about that didn’t bring pain.

She met his eyes and changed the subject. “Sorry, ancient history. And I really do feel bad ragging on Clarissa like this. They’ve been good to me—her and Bill both. I guess I should be trying to put myself in their shoes. If the tables were turned, I would be none too thrilled about having my in-laws move in with me in
my
house.” She made a comical face that said, “Heaven forbid!”

“So what are you going to do? Suck it up and live by their curfew, or start looking for a job and a place to live?”

“Ouch. You make it sound so cut-and-dried.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know there were other options.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m going to assume that was tongue-in-cheek.”

He smiled in reply.

“Even if I found a job tomorrow—a good job—it’ll be months before I save up enough to pay the bills.” She looked at her watch. “You
know what, it’s getting late. I’d probably better get home—” She stopped abruptly.

He saw the stark realization cloud her face: she didn’t have a home anymore. And he hadn’t helped matters any. She’d needed a shoulder to cry on, and he’d only stirred up more pain.

He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine a little. “I’ll take you back to your car.”

She nodded.

They rode in silence to the coffee shop where her car was parked. He thought about the guys back at the station and actually felt homesick, remembering what it was like to come back from a run, comparing stories, debriefing, joking around if everything had turned out okay—and sometimes even if it hadn’t, coping the only way they knew how.

It killed him not to know what was going on with the people he still considered family, with the place he still considered home. He should have been out there with them, working beside his buddies.

Instead he was here, making Zach Morgan’s beautiful wife miserable.

She’d just drifted off when a sharp rap on the window near her head made her sit up with a start.

13

I
t was ten after nine when Jenna pulled into the Morgans’ driveway. Her breath caught. The porch lights and all the yard lights were on. And inside the house almost every window was aglow. What was going on?

Surely they hadn’t called the police because she was eight minutes late? But there were no vehicles on the wide drive. She parked the car and ran up the brick walk to the front door.

Clarissa met her in the foyer.

“What’s happened? Is Bill okay?”

“Bill’s fine. He’s in the kitchen. Where on earth have you been? What were all the sirens for? We were worried sick.”

“I told you I was going out.”

Clarissa pressed her lips into a hard line. “We need to talk.” She turned on her heel and strode to the kitchen, the sirens apparently forgotten.

Mindlessly Jenna followed.

Bill was sitting at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in front of him, his head down.

“Sit.” Clarissa indicated a chair on the side of the table that backed up to the wall.

Jenna pulled out the chair and sat, her back straight, hands in her lap, feeling like a schoolgirl who’d been called into the principal’s office.

Clarissa didn’t sit but placed her hands on the high back of the chair across from Jenna and closed her eyes. “If you are going to be living here in our home, as our guest, we need to get some things straight.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. She stared past her mother-in-law but didn’t say anything. This ought to be good.

“Bill and I have come up with a few rules. We’re not trying to run your life, Jenna, but if you’re going to live with us, we can’t have you just going your merry way doing whatever you please whenever you please.”

Jenna glanced at Bill, who was working hard to avoid her eyes. She knew that when Clarissa said “Bill and I” she meant “I and I alone.”

“First of all, we need to know where you’ll be. We’re not going to give you a curfew, obviously.” She gave a humorless laugh. “But it’s not fair for us not to know your whereabouts. It would worry us sick to have to wonder every night when you’re coming in—or
if
you’re coming in. And certainly we need to know whether to expect you for dinner. As you know, I have club and guild luncheons several days a month, so we’ll all do lunch on our own.”

She seemed to forget that Jenna belonged to several of the same social organizations, though she hadn’t attended any of the meetings since Zach’s death.

Clarissa waited until Jenna proved she was paying attention by looking directly at her. “It would be nice to have dinner together several nights a week. Goodness, that was always important to us when Zachary was a child. It’s what families
do
.”

Bill had not yet uttered a word, and Jenna silently begged him to stand up for her. But Clarissa droned on with patronizing talk about how important it was for Jenna to clean up after herself in the kitchen and keep her room tidy. When she reminded Jenna to wipe her feet
before walking on the expensive living room carpeting, that was the last straw.

“Clarissa, I am not a child!” She held up a hand, as much to calm herself as to apologize for her outburst. “I have no plans to trash your house or track mud on your precious carpets.”

“Of course you don’t.” Clarissa’s expression turned contrite. “I just thought we should go over the guidelines so we’re all clear on what’s expected.” She looked at Bill as if to get his approval. He had scarcely moved since Jenna sat down and didn’t budge now except to nod briefly at his wife.

Jenna tested Clarissa, scooting her chair back an inch. The older woman’s hand shot up. “Just a minute. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

In a flash of insight Jenna understood what this was really about.
Bryn.
Of course. All these rules and regulations were merely an introduction to what Clarissa really wanted to say. Moving her chair back up to the table, she braced herself, physically and mentally.

“I’m afraid Bill and I are going to have to insist that as long as you’re living under our roof, you avoid Bryn Hennesey.”

Jenna started shaking her head.

“No, Jenna. Hear me out. You can surely understand how difficult it is for us to have her living in the same town, let alone camped out on our doorstep.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, that’s exactly what it will be if we give our approval for you to run around with that girl.”

“I’ve been running around with ‘that girl’ for months now. I don’t see what difference it makes that I’m living here.”

Clarissa’s jaw tensed and the irises of her eyes turned to steel. “Then let me put it more succinctly. If you choose to remain here, you
will
have nothing to do with Bryn Hennesey.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” She almost laughed at the absurdity
of it—like an echo of an argument she’d had with her own mother when she was thirteen. “First you want to know my whereabouts twenty-four/ seven, and now you’re going to dictate who my friends are?”

“Call it ‘dictate’ if you like. We’re simply saying that if you choose to remain friends with that woman, you are, in essence, choosing to live elsewhere. I should think the reasons are obvious, but in case they’re not, in case you can’t defend the memory of your
husband
, then let me remind you that your so-called friend was responsible for the death of our only
son
!” Clarissa’s voice cracked on the word. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Then I guess you’ve made my choice for me. I love you and Bill, but you are not going to decide who my friends are.”

Clarissa pressed her lips into a firm line, and Jenna watched the color drain from them.

A flash of memory came, and for an instant she saw Clarissa as she’d been the day of Zach’s funeral. A mother who’d lost her son. Her only child.