Nothing Between Us (28 page)

“Well, look who’s up and smiling a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile so early in the morning,” Leesha said as she adjusted the angle of her monitor for the video call.

Georgia shrugged. “Always happy to talk to my infinitely wise therapist.”

“Bullshit,” Leesha said, leaning back in her chair. “That is a morning-after smile if I’ve ever seen one. You’ve had that same smile every time I’ve talked to you lately. I guess things are still going well with the neighbor?”

Georgia tried to swipe the goofy smile from her face. She could see it staring back at her in the little video chat box in the corner, but she couldn’t seem to keep it down long. Since last Saturday, when she’d stayed overnight at Colby’s for the first time, each day had been another step forward, another victory—not to mention another hot night. “Things are going really well.”

Complicated. But well.

“He’s a great guy. I’m having a good time with him.” And Keats. But she wasn’t going to tell Leesha that part. Her best friend wasn’t one to judge, but Leesha would flip the shrink switch and analyze it to death. She’d probably tell Georgia she was acting out or rebelling or something.

Hell, maybe she was. But right now, for the first time in over a year, she felt like there was sun shining on her face. Things were looking up.

“Uh-oh,” Leesha said. “He’s a great guy? You’re not getting serious about him, are you?”

Georgia rubbed her lips together, smoothing the balm she’d swiped on before running over from Colby’s house to her own to make it in time for this call. “Would that be so awful?”

Leesha grimaced. “Babe, I’m glad you have that capacity in you still. But now’s not the time to be starting something serious. It’s only a few weeks before we need you to move back here. I don’t want to see you get attached to a guy and be heartbroken when you have to break it off.”

Georgia knew Leesha was speaking the truth, but she didn’t want to hear it this morning. Not after the amazing two weeks she’d had with the guys. The past few days had been the best of all. Waking up in the morning surrounded by their warmth and affection had felt more right than she wanted to admit to herself. And even though she knew it was temporary, she didn’t want to think about the end when it felt like so much was just beginning. “I could come back here after the trial.”

Sympathy crossed Leesha’s face—the
oh-honey
look. “The trial could take months. He’d have to wait on you. And what if . . .”

Georgia raised her palm, her happy mood plummeting. “Don’t. I know what you’re going to say.”

What if Phillip is acquitted?
That was what Leesha was going to say. Georgia didn’t want to consider that possibility, but of course, she had, over and over again. It kept her awake at night.

Leesha sighed and opened a drawer in her desk. She pulled out a stack of envelopes and set them on top of her day planner. “I wasn’t going to mention it because I didn’t want to add to your plate, but the lawyer said that you have the right to make the decision on it since technically it’s your mail.”

Georgia leaned forward, wanting to reach through the screen and pick up the stack. “What are they?”

“Letters from Phillip,” Leesha said, her frown lines marring her flawless mocha complexion.

Georgia’s skin chilled. “I thought those had stopped when I moved away.”

“No, he only adjusted where he sent them. He’s sent one every couple of days to my office since the last restraining order expired, but they’re addressed to you. I’m sure I broke some law, opening them without your permission, but I needed to make sure they weren’t threats or anything we could use against him in court.”

“He’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, he is. But you should know they’re long love notes. He says he wants to forgive you. He asks for you to take your accusations back. He wants to be together no matter what, blah blah blah.”

Georgia closed her eyes and rubbed them. “He’s so goddamned sick.”

“And obsessed, Georgia. If he walks out of that courtroom, he’s not going to give up on you. You need to be prepared for that, have a plan.”

And that was when what Leesha was really trying to tell her settled in. Phillip wouldn’t stop. If he went free, he would focus everything he had on finding Georgia. And when he did, everyone she cared about would be at risk again. Maybe he wouldn’t “hurt” her because he
loved
her. But if he showed up and saw she was in a relationship, he would go mad with rage again. Both Colby and Keats would be in the line of fire.

Phillip had tried to kill a man she had seen only a handful of times. He certainly wouldn’t hesitate to go after the two men Georgia was sharing a bed with every night.

She would never be free if Phillip walked. She’d never be able to care about someone without wondering if Phillip was watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to quietly take that person out.

She sat her elbows on her desk, put her face in her hands, and screamed in frustration.

“I know, sweetie,” Leesha said. “I can’t imagine how impossible this feels right now. But we still have a good shot at getting him locked up. And if that doesn’t happen, we’ll figure out something for you so that you can feel safe. Renew the restraining orders, register things in a different name.”

“I don’t want to be some goddamned sitting duck the rest of my life, Leesh,” she said, getting more pissed than scared now. “I can’t take it. I’ll kill the motherfucker first. I’d rather be in jail than running away my whole life.”

Leesha frowned. “Let’s not go with that plan. Though I don’t blame you for considering it. Even when I know he’s too smart to do anything to me because it’d be too obvious right now, he’s got me looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. I check under my car for brake fluid every morning. I can only imagine what things have been like for you.”

“There’s got to be something we can do, something more than we’re doing already.”

“The best thing you can do is get yourself strong enough to come back home and face him in the trial. Your testimony is the best shot we’ve got.”

“Oh, I’m going to be there,” Georgia said, not putting up bravado but really, truly believing it for the first time. “This bastard is not going to win. I don’t care if I need to ask one of the guys to sedate me and carry me into my plane seat. I’m going to get there.”

Leesha’s expression turned puzzled. “One of the guys?”

Shit. “Nothing. Long story.”

Leesha still looked confused, but she didn’t push. “I know you can do this—and without sedation involved. You’ve been making leaps lately, just don’t let up now. Train like you’re going to be climbing Mount Everest. Every day push yourself a little more. We need you here, babe.”

“I know,” she said, nodding and making plans in her head. “I promise. I’m not going to let anything . . . or anyone get in the way.”

—

Keats stared at the screen on the laptop, the letters starting to merge together after a while. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“How’s the résumé coming?” Georgia asked from her spot on the couch. She’d had her head buried in a stack of edits all morning and hadn’t said much to him at all. When he’d asked her if everything was okay, she’d assured him she was just busy. But he didn’t believe that work was what was bothering her. He’d sensed something was wrong when he’d first walked in today. She’d been distracted and jumpy. But obviously she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Keats stretched his neck and closed out of the window he’d been staring at—which had not been his résumé. He’d finished that on Wednesday and had already emailed a few out to job listings. “Okay. I think it’s pretty much ready to go. But I’m having trouble concentrating today.”

She marked her place in the stack of pages. “Worried about Colby?”

“He’s been up at the school for hours. That can’t be a good sign, right?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He has nothing to hide.”

“But they talked to my father. That’s bad, George. He probably made Colby sound like some pedophile.”

“Did Colby say that?”

Keats shook his head. “All he would tell me was that they met with my father on Tuesday. But I heard him talking with his boss last night on the phone before you came over. I couldn’t decipher most of the conversation, but he was angry and called someone a backwoods bigot. I’ll give you one guess who he was talking about.”

Georgia frowned. “He seemed okay this morning.”

“He puts on the all-is-well face because he doesn’t want us to worry about him. He’s good at helping people with their problems, but he sucks at sharing his own.” Keats shifted in his chair. The thought that Colby was taking any flack for what happened back then made him want to jump out of his skin. “I just hate that he has to deal with this.”

“It’s awful,” she agreed, concern on her face. “But I’m not sure there’s anything we can do to help except be there for him if he wants to vent.”

Fuck that. He clicked the laptop closed, the address on the screen imprinted on his mind, and set it on the coffee table. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit on his hands and hope for the best. George and Colby might be optimists, but he’d learned not to make that mistake in life. You couldn’t trust that things would turn out okay, because so many times they absolutely didn’t. Even if it wasn’t right. Even if it wasn’t fair.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans, nervous energy making his hands tremble.

Georgia must’ve picked up on his agitation because she set aside her papers. “Hey, you okay?”

He wet his lips. “You up for an outing this afternoon?”

Her forehead scrunched. “We already did all the errands I needed this morning. What’d you have in mind?”

“You want to keep practicing, right?” That was what she’d told him when he’d walked in this morning. She’d been raring to go, ready to run those errands, a new resolve in her whole demeanor.

“Sure. I mean, every little bit helps.”

He nodded. If he tried to do this for himself, he’d chicken out. But if he could convince himself that he was getting in the car to help Georgia and going where he needed to go to help Colby, maybe he wouldn’t freak the fuck out.

“It’s a little bit of a drive. And I’m not going to promise that I won’t turn around halfway there. But if you’re willing to come with me, I might be able to do it.”

Her face was the picture of concern now. She leaned forward. “Where are we going, Keats?”

“I need to see my father.”

Keats couldn’t get out of the car. They’d driven the forty-five minutes, found the address Keats had memorized from the computer, and parked across the street. But the walk from Georgia’s car to the tired-looking house a few yards away seemed to stretch for miles in Keats’s mind.

There was an older-model Ford truck sitting in the driveway with a Dallas Cowboys bumper sticker. Keats had no doubt it belonged to his father. The truck was an updated version of the one Keats had grown up with. His dad had simply switched colors when he traded in the other.

But Keats couldn’t quite grab hold of the fact that the man who had tormented his memories for so long was in there, living some quiet life in small-town Texas. So many questions filled his mind. Had his dad grieved him? And what had his father told Keats’s older brother when he’d come back from overseas? Keats had always felt bad about leaving his brother behind without a word. They’d been close when they were kids, even though Justin was five years older. But when Justin had hit his teen years and become a star football player and then gone into the Marines, fulfilling all that their father wanted him to be, Keats had spent a lot of time resenting his golden boy of a brother. That hadn’t been Justin’s fault. Their father had created those bad feelings by always comparing the two of them—Keats always coming out on the short end.

But the biggest question of all that plagued Keats as he sat there was how would his father react to seeing him now?

Keats pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, a wave of nausea overtaking him.

Georgia took his hand. “You don’t have to go in, you know? No one is making you do this.”

Keats clasped her hand and tried to take a deep breath. She’d been intensely calm the whole ride down here, a solid support there next to him. He wouldn’t have been able to make it this far without her there. If she of all people could put her anxiety aside and be calm on his behalf, he could be brave enough to face this. “I need to see him.”

“Want me to go in with you?”

He leaned back in his seat and turned to look at her. “George, I can’t ask you to do that. My dad can be ugly and angry and mean. I’ve already asked you to do too much by dragging you so far from home.”

She peered at the house, then turned back to him. “I want to go with you. You and Colby have backed me up when I’ve had to face difficult things. Let me back you up for this. I’ll be more worried sitting out here.”

He blew out a breath. Part of him wanted to tell her no, to handle it on his own because God knows he didn’t want Georgia to see the version of himself that his dad brought out in him. But the other part was damn relieved to not be facing it alone. Because he didn’t get scared of much. He’d taken on much bigger guys in fights and hadn’t flinched. But there was something about facing his father that made him feel helpless and small again.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of it. “Thank you, George.”

“Anytime,” she said, that warm smile giving him the last burst of confidence he needed.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

They climbed out of the car and made their way to the door. The grass needed to be cut. His dad would’ve never let him get away with letting it go this long.
Get your ass out there and clean that yard up. Can’t you do anything useful?
Keats had a moment of panic right at the last second, hearing that familiar angry voice rattle through his head, but managed to lift his hand and knock. Seconds passed, and Keats began to wonder if they’d gotten the wrong house or if maybe his dad was at work. But right when he was about to turn away, he heard heavy footsteps on wood floors. Keats’s spine went stiff.

The door swung open and all the breath rushed out of him.

The man on the other side was still broad and intimidating in size, but his blond hair had grayed at the temples and there were more lines in his face than Keats remembered. His dark eyes met Keats’s, and Keats couldn’t move. His father blinked rapidly a few times, his attention shifting between Keats and Georgia. But when his gaze settled back on his son, Keats knew that his dad recognized him.

Keats’s throat felt like a fist was closing around it. “Hi, Dad.”

His father coughed, though it sounded more like a horse chuffing, and glanced back over his shoulder like he was considering shutting the door and walking away. Finally, he looked back to Keats. “What are you doing here?”

The question didn’t sting as much as it probably should’ve. Keats hadn’t exactly expected a warm reunion. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He made a sour face, looking fully put-upon by their presence. “Do you need money? Because it’s not like I have—”

“Excuse me,” Georgia said primly, stepping forward from where she’d been hovering behind Keats. “Did you ask him if he’s here for
money
? You just found out your son is okay and alive and that’s your first question?”

“George,” Keats said, reaching out to touch her elbow. “It’s fine.”

“No, excuse
me
,” his father said, narrowing his eyes at Georgia. “But I don’t know you and you’re on
my
porch. I can ask damn well what I want. And if my son didn’t bother to find me for the last however many years it’s been, then why should I think he’s looking me up for any good reason now?”

Nice. His father didn’t even know how many years it’d been since Keats had left. Glad he was so concerned.

“Well, most people would be happy to know their kid is alive,” Keats offered in Georgia’s defense.

His father’s lip curled. “I knew you were alive. They told me when you went to the cops.”

“What?” That punched the starch out of Keats. “They told you?”

“Yeah, I told them you owed me my best gun and the money you stole from me, but they didn’t do a damn thing about it.”

The news that his father hadn’t bothered to come look for him shouldn’t have surprised Keats. Alan Keats wasn’t the kind of man who chased. He would’ve been waiting for Keats to crawl back and admit he couldn’t make it on his own.

That was probably what he thought this was. Keats coming back to admit defeat and ask for help.

“Can we come in?” Keats asked, holding his ground.

“Why?” his father groused.

Georgia made a little noise of disbelief, and Keats almost smiled. She was kind of cute when she was pissed on his behalf.

“We need to talk. It’s not about money. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

His dad didn’t look pleased at all. “And who is this, anyway? I don’t let strangers in my house.”

“This is Georgia, my—”

“His girlfriend,” Georgia said, taking Keats’s hand and surprising the hell out of him.

His father’s heavy eyebrows shot up. “You into women now?”

Keats knew that Georgia was posing as his girlfriend to help him out, to let his dad see he was wrong about Keats’s preferences. But Keats found that he no longer gave a shit what his father did or didn’t think. “I date both.”

His father’s face twisted in disgust. But he opened the door and let them in, muttering to himself the whole way.

The house was simple on the inside, utilitarian. His father had never had much of an eye for nice things. It was as if he wanted to live his life like he was still in the Marines—neat corners and neutral colors.

They all sat in the living room, his dad in a worn brown recliner and he and Georgia on the couch. The room had a stale smell, like microwaved soup and faded Pine-Sol. Keats had the intense desire to be anywhere but there.

But the urge to leave wasn’t about fear anymore. As Keats watched the man sitting across from them, he no longer saw the larger-than-life football coach who could make him cower with his booming voice and intimidating presence. Instead, he saw an aging man with a toxic personality in a lifeless house. A man who didn’t know how to love anyone.

Maybe his father had been different once upon a time. Keats’s mom had died when he was three, so he didn’t really know if his dad had loved her. But whatever the case, this man was a bitter and miserable person now and would die that way. So Keats could only muster up one emotion for his father now—pity.

“So what is it you want?” his father said finally. “I don’t have all day.”

Keats’s anger flared at that, all that resentment bubbling to the surface. “I want you to shut your mouth and stop lying to lawyers about Colby Wilkes.”

“Now, wait just a minute,” his father said, leaning forward. “If you think you can walk in here and talk to me like that—”

But Keats wasn’t going to stop. He’d shut up at his father’s request too many times. “No, you need to hear this. You have no business stirring up shit for Colby. That lawyer is grasping at straws and you know it. Colby Wilkes never did anything wrong to me.”

“Right. ’Cause two gays hanging out after school every day was all about the guitar lessons. That school needs to own up to its negligence.”

Keats’s fists balled against his thighs. “Are you serious? Is that what this is about? You’re trying to get a court case going for yourself?”

“They put that man in charge of children and look what happened.”

Un-fucking-believable. This was about
money
? Keats had read in the news stories after he went missing that his father had threatened to bring a suit against the school, but there hadn’t been enough there for him to go through with it. Now the guy was looking for a new angle. “Colby Wilkes was the only decent adult I knew back then. I sure as hell couldn’t count on you.”

“He put those disgusting ideas in your head.”

Keats scoffed. “You think he turned me
bisexual
? Come on, Dad. Even you can’t be that dumb.”

“I’ve heard enough. I won’t be insulted in my own home.” His dad’s voice was going into that megaphone zone again.

Keats quickly glanced at Georgia to make sure she was okay and not getting panicky. But he shouldn’t have worried. Her jaw was set, her eyes blazing with anger. She looked ready to take down his father on her own.

“I’m not leaving until you promise to drop the thing with the lawyer. Tell him that I came to talk to you and that if he has any questions about what happened, he can call
me
. I’ll tell him the truth. I had a crush on Colby. But he never crossed a line. And when I tried, he turned me away.”

His father stood. “You have some nerve coming here and ordering me to do anything. Get out of my house, Adam. And don’t bother me with this shit—”

“Adam?”

The voice came from somewhere behind Keats, and he swung around. Georgia turned with him. The shocked face that greeted Keats made him lose all his gumption. “Justin.”

Keats’s brother stood frozen in the doorway, leaning on crutches. Keats’s gaze traveled down to the spot where Justin’s right leg used to be. His pant leg was neatly folded up at the knee joint. There was nothing below it anymore.
Jesus.

“Adam,” Justin repeated, his eyes going glossy with tears. “It’s really you?”

Keats stood, not sure what to do with his big brother’s tears. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him cry. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“He was just leaving,” Keats’s father bit out.

Justin’s attention snapped to his father. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s
Adam
, Dad.”

“I know damn well who he is.”

His brother swung himself on his crutches with what looked to be practiced ease toward Keats and pulled him into a crushing one-armed hug. Keats didn’t know what to do but hug back. “Hey, big brother.”

The embrace only got tighter and Justin’s chest bounced with silent sobs. “You’re okay. I can’t believe you’re okay.”

That was when Keats realized Justin hadn’t known. His dad hadn’t bothered to inform him that Keats was alive. For Justin, his little brother had just come back to life.

And he cared. His badass Marine big brother was sobbing.

Emotion welled in Keats as he hugged Justin back in a fierce embrace. And before long, his face was wet, too. Because he was happy to see his brother. But also because he realized how much pain he must’ve put him through when he’d run away. He’d wanted to hurt his dad. But he’d never intended to hurt Justin, too.

Justin finally leaned back, eyes red, and smiled. “I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not having some weird medication reaction or something.”

Keats laughed and swiped at his eyes.

“I’m so freaking happy to see you,” Justin said, shaking his head. “I never believed what they’d said about you. You had too much fight in you. But after all these years passed, I started to lose hope.”

“I’m so sorry,” Keats said, the guilt weighing heavy on him now. “I never wanted to put you through that.”

Justin grabbed Keats’s shoulder, his grip strong. “I know why you left. I don’t blame you.”

They both looked toward the empty recliner.

During their hug, Keats had heard the front door slam shut and the rumble of an engine. Keats glanced down at Georgia, who was watching him and Justin with shiny eyes. “So he left.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Keats said, putting his arm around Justin, careful not to knock his crutches. “Now we can relax and catch up. Georgia, I’d like to introduce you to my brother.”

She smiled and stood, putting her hand out. “So nice to meet you.”

Justin took her hand to shake it.

“Justin, this is my girl.”

And even though Keats knew that wasn’t exactly true, right then he wanted nothing more than to make it so.