Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (34 page)

This town, these people, it was all that she'd been searching for her whole life. A place to call home. A place to belong.

She'd been lost for so long, she thought, staring into Josh's beautiful eyes. Doing her best to make the right choice so she wouldn't get hurt. Wouldn't be left. But living that way meant missing so much. It meant missing the best parts.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered. “With the race, with the baby, with the future, I want you to know I don't regret any of it. I love you.”

Josh put his hands on her shoulders, then kissed her. “I love you, too,” he said when he straightened.

The floor seemed to lurch a little, then still. She felt every muscle freeze in shock. “W-what?”

He grinned. “I love you, Charity. You're everything I've ever wanted. I love being with you, how I feel when I'm around you. I want to be the man in your life.
The person you can depend on. I want us to be a family. For always. I want you to marry me.”

The words bounced around in her brain like a dozen pinballs. Individually they made sense but together they were impossible to believe.

“You love me?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her again. “As soon as the race is over, we'll work out the details. Where we'll live, when's the wedding.”

His lips continued to move, so she would guess he was still talking. But she wasn't listening.

The race. How could she have forgotten? This was all about the race. About being famous and important. About being the guy on the poster.

“I haven't said I'll marry you,” she pointed out.

“I know. When I win—”

“That's what's important, isn't it? Winning. I don't want to be with someone who has to be worshiped by millions, Josh. I want to be with a guy who wants me. Just me and our kids and maybe a dog.”

“I
do
want you. I'm not staying on the circuit. I just need to prove I'm worthy.”

What crap, she thought bitterly. “That's just an excuse to be fawned over. Winning the race doesn't matter to me.”

“It matters to me,” he told her. His jaw was set, his expression determined. “My mother left me because I was broken. She didn't want to bother. Angelique left when I couldn't race anymore.”

“I'm not either of them.”

“I want you to be proud of me.”

“I already am.”

“I need to be proud of myself.”

Which was the truth. This was about him and how he felt. She knew that. But would it end with one race? Could he hear the crowd and then walk away? No.

“I'll win and then we can be together,” he said.

He was everything she'd ever wanted. The man she loved, the father of her unborn child. But he asked for the impossible.

“I won't be with you if you race,” she said. “I don't want to be with someone who needs to win to feel whole.”

The door next to them burst open. Pia stuck her head out. “Oh my God! They said yes. We're getting the hospital. Isn't that the best?”

“The best,” Charity whispered, knowing she had won and lost in equal measures that morning.

CHAPTER TWENTY

J
OSH SAT AT THE BAR
, sipping from his glass of water. It was three days before the race and he was in the best shape of his life. His carefully choreographed workouts had honed every muscle, tightened every reflex. He'd done the work—now all he needed was a little luck.

“For a guy on the verge of being a hero, you don't look happy,” Jo said. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head and continued to stare at the bar.

Jo glanced around, as if making sure no one could hear, then leaned close. “You'll do it, Josh. I've seen you practicing. You've been right in the middle of the pack and there hasn't been a problem. You're fine. You have to believe that.”

He slowly raised his head to stare at the woman across from him. Her eyes were soft with understanding.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I know you were scared for a long time, but you did it. You figured out how to beat the fear. I don't think I could have. To go through what you did? No way. But you're the man.”

The impossible truth slammed into him. His mouth went dry. “You knew?”

“That you couldn't ride anymore? Not counting those late-night rides you took all the time. That was dangerous. But I guess it was the only way you could get through it, right?”

He felt exposed and more than a little stupid. “You knew?” he repeated.

“Um, yes.”

He swallowed and straightened. “Let me guess. Everyone knew. Everyone in town.”

“Not everyone. Most people. We didn't want to talk about it. You needed space to heal. It made sense.”

The past two years replayed in his mind. A montage of highlights, so to speak. He remembered how carefully he'd hidden his bike, how he'd ridden in the dark, too ashamed to be out in the light. How everyone had teased him about being out having sex, when they'd known exactly what he was doing.

He didn't know if he should crawl under a rock or be grateful.

“You look confused,” Jo said.

“That's one way of putting it.”

She smiled. “You're one of us. We love you.” Her smile widened. “I'm speaking generally, of course. I don't want Charity coming in and beating me up.”

“You think she could take you?”

“Love does interesting things to a woman. Gives her strength.”

Maybe, but he wasn't sure Charity loved him as much as she claimed. She certainly didn't understand him. Riding wasn't about being the guy on the poster, as she claimed. It was about being himself. He had to do this—prove that he could. Then he could walk away and get on with his life.

A couple of guys finished up a pool game and walked through the bar.

“Good luck on Saturday, Josh,” they called as they left.

“Thanks.”

“You okay?” Jo asked.

He nodded.

When he'd been a kid, Fool's Gold had taken him in. The town was still there for him, in ways he hadn't even known about. He wanted to say he owed them, but it wasn't like that. They were a family.

He wanted to stay here, to be here with Charity. He wanted to marry her. When the race was over, he would explain again, he promised himself. Somehow he would make her understand. He finally found the one woman he was meant to be with. No way he was letting her get away.

* * *

T
HE MORNING OF THE RACE
dawned bright and hot. Charity busied herself in her room until she was supposed to meet Marsha, then made her way downstairs.

Mary, the woman at the front desk, waved. “You still flying from the hospital agreeing to build here?”

“It's great news,” Charity said, doing her best to sound cheerful. “For all of us.”

“My little sister wants to be a nurse. She's excited.”

“I'm glad.”

“You off to watch the race? Josh is so going to win.”

Charity smiled and kept walking. No, she wasn't going to watch the race. She would be there at the beginning, because she was part of city government and she would be expected. But then she would leave. What was the point in staying?

Josh said he needed to win. She believed that. If he lost, he would keep trying. If he won, he would be sucked back into that world. She was just a regular person—how could she compete with the immortality of fame?

She walked more quickly, wanting to get to Marsha's house before anyone else spoke to her. Nearly everyone in town was heading to line up along the race route. Thousands of visitors crowded the streets, so she didn't have to do much more than smile and slip between milling groups.

“Quite the crowd,” Marsha said when Charity arrived. “Every hotel room is booked and the restaurants are full. It's going to be a good weekend.”

“I'm glad,” Charity said, following her grandmother into her living room.

They'd arranged to meet and walk over to the start line together. But instead of getting her purse and
pulling out keys, Marsha headed for the sofa. Charity saw several photo albums lined up on the coffee table.

“What are those?” she asked, pointing.

Marsha put her arm around Charity's waist. “Just some old pictures. Don't worry. This will only take a second.”

Charity settled on the sofa. “Are they of my mom?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to spend her morning looking at Sandra.

“Not exactly.” Marsha sat next to her and flipped open the first album. There were several pictures of a young boy on crutches.

Charity recognized Josh right away. He'd grown up, but his smile was still the same. Heartbreakingly appealing. Would their son or daughter have that smile?

“I remember the first time I saw him walk across the street,” Marsha said. “He moved so slowly. I could tell that every step hurt him, but he never complained. He couldn't remember much about the fall and his mother didn't talk about it.”

She turned the page, showing more pictures of Josh. In some he was with another boy, in a few, he was alone.

He was so physically perfect now that it was difficult to reconcile the adult with the child.

“He's come a long way,” Charity said, aware of time passing.

How was Josh feeling in the hours before the race
started? Tense? Confident? He'd worked the program and conquered his fears. Despite the fact that it would mean he would leave her, she found herself hoping he would win. It was what he wanted, and she loved him.

“His mother rented a room in a cheap motel. One of those horrible places with bugs and rooms by the hour. It's since been torn down.” Marsha flipped another page. “He never brought a lunch to school or had any money to buy one. The principal told me how he would sit in a corner of the cafeteria, carefully not looking at any of the other students. He must have been starving.”

Charity's own stomach tightened. “She didn't feed him?”

“Not enough. We arranged for him to get a hot meal every day. That helped. He was bright and friendly. He enjoyed school, all the kids liked him. I made an appointment to talk to his mother. I told her I wanted to help. But when I showed up at the motel, she was gone. Josh was standing in the parking lot. He said she'd gone out to the store, but she would be back. He'd already been waiting for three days.”

Charity felt her eyes start to burn. This time she didn't fight against the tears, mostly because ten-year-old Josh deserved them.

“How could she have done that?”

Marsha shrugged. “I can't begin to understand her. You know what happened after that. The town took him in. He joined the Hendrix family and started riding
a bike as part of his physical therapy.” She closed the album and looked at Charity.

“He's never forgotten what happened. How his mother simply left him. He believes it's because he wasn't whole.”

Broken, Charity thought. He described himself as broken. Less than. As if anyone who really knew him could find him wanting in any way. But he wouldn't believe that. And proving himself meant just what he'd said. Being worthy.

She stood and clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh no. He really does have to ride in the race, doesn't he? It's not about winning, although that would be nice. It's about healing.”

“Not being broken,” Marsha agreed.

Charity brushed the lingering tears from her face. “I told him I wouldn't be with him if he rode. I told him…” She covered her face. “Why was I so stupid?”

“A question people in love have been asking themselves for thousands of years.”

Despite everything Charity laughed. She lowered her arms. “Is this you trying to help?”

“Do you feel better?”

“I don't know. Is it too late?”

“Do you really think an argument is enough to make Josh fall out of love with you?”

“No, but I made him feel bad. He has to race. Of course he does. He's not going anywhere afterwards. Why couldn't I see that?”

“Maybe you haven't had anyone to believe in before.”

She hadn't, Charity realized. Until now. “I believe in you,” she told her grandmother. “And I love you.”

Marsha smiled. “I love you, too. Now I think we have a race we need to get to.”

Charity nodded. They both hurried out of the house. There were throngs of people even on this quiet residential street. Marsha led the way, weaving through the crowds and slipping easily through clean, tidy alleys.

“Don't worry,” her grandmother told her. “We have plenty of time. They can't start the race without me.”

When they came out on the main road, they found themselves among a multitude of cycling enthusiasts.

Marsha turned and pointed. “The bike race starts over there. Put on your official ID and you can get right to the starting line.” She checked her watch. “You have five minutes before I make a few introductory remarks and Pia starts things.”

Charity hugged her. “Thank you so much.”

“You delight me, child. Now hurry.”

Charity pushed her way past families and couples, slipping into the tiniest openings, excusing herself when she bumped into someone. It was bright and hot. How did anyone ride a bike in weather like this?

She pushed and wiggled and darted her way through to the beginning of the race. Here the crowds were even thicker and there were barricades in place
to keep everyone back. Probably so the line didn't get covered with enthusiastic viewers.

Charity ran up to a deputy and smiled at the young woman as she showed her official ID. “Hi. I'm Charity Jones. I'm the—”

The deputy grinned. “I know who you are. You got the hospital to come here. They're putting in a special children's wing. My cousin has cancer. Not having to drive so far all the time is going to be great.”

“That's great. Um, can you help me get through?”