The Reasons to Stay (Harlequin Superromance) (22 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Y
OU
’
RE
WHERE
?” When several shoppers looked up from the aisles, Adam walked into the drug room and closed the door.

Priss’s voice sounded continents away. “Are you and Nacho okay?”

“You’re in
jail
and you’re asking if we’re okay? Are you drunk?”

“You know I don’t drink. And you need to calm down.”

He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Sandy Otto wouldn’t listen. I got mad, and things got a little out of control.”

“What are they holding you for?” His brain cranked in the background, working through how one went about wiring bail money.

“A couple of things. But the one I probably won’t be able to plead out is the assault on a police officer.”

“Jesus, Priss. When I get out of control, I disagree strenuously with an umpire. This is all new to me. Let me think. Will they let you out on bail?”

“Yeah, but—” she hesitated a heartbeat “—it’s a lot.”

“That’s okay, hang on...” He reached for a scratch pad and pulled a pen from the breast pocket of his jacket. “Tell me how much and where I wire it.”

She told him.

“It’s going to be okay. Now, you hang loose. Help is on the way.”

“Adam, I want you to know, I’m going to pay you back. Every penny.”

“We’ll worry about that later, Hart. Are you safe where they’re keeping you?”

“Yes. But—no, dammit. That’s not what I want you to know.”

When he heard her sniff, his heart thumped, hard. He wanted to crawl through the phone and break her out of that damned jail. Why couldn’t the Tigers have been playing in Phoenix?

“I want you to know. No matter what happens after this, I love you.”

Click.

He stood staring at the display on his phone. “Did you just say what I think you said?” His voice came out all wavery, his throat clogged with emotions too big to get through.

He knew the guts it had taken for her to pick up the phone and call him for help.

He couldn’t imagine the courage it took for her to admit, at what he was sure she considered her weakest moment, that she loved him.

She loves me.

Joy threaded up through his chest like bubbles from the bottom of a champagne flute.

If his little scrapper had the guts to do that, what excuse did he have not to face what he feared most?

“Oh, hell, no. You’re not telling me you love me and then hanging up.” He dropped the phone in his pocket and fired up the computer to check flights to Tampa.

It was time to ring that damned bell.

* * *

“W
HAT
’
S
WRONG
?”
Nacho stood frowning in the doorway of the school office.

“Everything’s fine. We almost forgot your dentist appointment today.” The last thing he wanted was to explain within earshot of the secretary that Nacho’s guardian was in jail.

Nacho scanned Adam’s face. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” He put a hand on Nacho’s shoulder and steered him out of the office.

When they pushed out the glass door into the sunshine, Nacho shook off his hand. “What happened?”

“I’ve got to fly to Tampa. My mom has agreed to watch you until—”

“What’s wrong with Priss?”

He glanced at the tats on the backs of the kid’s fingers, imagining the life he’d lived so far. He could handle the truth. “Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Nacho planted his feet. “Tell me now.”

“I do not have time for this. I need to be at LAX in two hours.” Adam glanced around the thankfully empty lot.

Nacho crossed his arms. “She’s my sister.”

“Okay. She got arrested, trying to talk to that ball player. I’m going to bail her out and bring her home.”

A smile spread over Nacho’s face. “Wow. Go, Priss.”

“Now can we go? I’ve got to drop you off and get to the airport.”

“I’m going, too.”

“No.” Adam strode for Mona, lounging topless beside the SUVs like a bad girl at a football camp.

Nacho followed, sliding over the door and plopping into the seat. “Seriously. Can I go?”

“No.”

“Come on, Adam. I won’t be any trouble, promise. I’ve never been on a plane before.”

“Kid, this is not a vacation. It’s not a joy ride. Your sister is in trouble.”

“I know.”

Adam turned when Nacho touched his arm.

The tough mask was gone. The kid looked scared. “Please let me go. She’s all I’ve got.”

He squinted at the kid. “Are you working me?”

Nacho held his gaze, tracing a cross over his heart. “Swear.”

If the county got wind of her arrest, Priss would lose custody of Nacho in a heartbeat. He’d be sent back to the group home. Adam’s chest tightened. God, he’d hate to see that happen.

The kid’s got at least as much at stake as you do.

“Okay. If you promise
not
to be a problem.” He clicked his seat belt. “
And
providing I can get you a seat.”

“Yay!” Nacho held up a fist to bump. “We’re gonna rescue Priss from The Man.”

“You’ve been reading too much fantasy, kid.” He bumped, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret this.

Thanks to the gods of old cars, once they stopped in for a change of clothes and to tell Adam’s mother the latest development, Mona started right up. The ride down to LAX was uneventful. That is, except for the fear that built in Adam like an approaching storm. It gathered in his muscles, slowly tightening them as if in preparation to withstand a gale force wind.

And when they walked into the terminal, it began to blow.

Beside him, Nacho looked everywhere at once, chittering like an agitated squirrel.

Adam tried to block it out, listening instead to the thunder rolling through his mind.

Nacho stopped at a huge floor-to-ceiling window. “How cool is that?”

A 747 lifted off the runway a few hundred feet away. Though the noise was dampened by the thick glass, the air vibrated with the power. Fear shot along Adam’s nerves, and when it hit the ends, they cracked and sizzled like cut live wires.

Like the ones their plane had snagged on, all those years ago.

They found their gate and sat. Well, he sat. Nacho stood at the window watching the busy ground crews.

Shit. Who am I kidding? I can’t do this. Hell, I can’t even stand to look at the brochures I bring home; I just go get more. I’ve never gotten higher than twelve feet up the rock wall at the gym.

You are going to do this.

Walk down that tube? Into that aluminium casket? Then sit there for hours and act normal while you wait for it to go down?

You need to get to Priss.

You know you were meant to die in that crash.

If you can’t do this, you’re not man enough for a strong woman like Priss Hart. She’ll eventually figure out that you’re a coward and you’ll lose the only thing that—

“Tower to Adam.” Nacho stood front and center, waving a hand in Adam’s face.

He swiped his fingers through the sweat at his hairline. “What?”

“If it’ll take your mind off it, I could go steal something from the newsstand.” Nacho plopped into the next plastic chair in line.

Adam shot a look around, thankful that not many people flew on Sunday. “Did your sister tell you?”

“Come on.” Nacho did his whole-body sigh thing. “Like anybody can’t tell you’re scared. Kids are small, not stupid.” He pointed. “You’re shredding your luggage tag.”

He looked down at the backpack he’d thrown their change of clothes into, just in case this took longer than he hoped. “Can you go up to the counter and get another one for me?”

Great.
He pulled a pen from the pocket of the backpack. Now he was going to have the little hard-ass on his butt, cataloging his every move.

Nacho returned. “Here, give me the pen. You’re not gonna be able to write so anyone can read it.”

Adam handed over the pen.

Head down, writing, Nacho asked, “So what happened?”

Adam’s hands twitched. He tightened his grip on his thighs. “You don’t want to know. It’ll make you nervous on the flight.”

“Dude. This is your issue, not mine.” He looked up, straight into Adam’s eyes. “Not to sound like Oprah, but it helps to say it out loud sometimes.”

“How do you know?”

Nacho just shrugged and went back to writing.

So he told him. The sanitized SparkNotes version.

Nacho listened, rapt. “Damn. You’re brave to do this.”

One bubble of fear escaped with his snort. “I’m not on the thing, yet.”

A woman’s voice announced, “Delta flight 255 to Tampa, leaving out of terminal eight, Gate 22.”

Nacho stood.

Heart hammering, Adam didn’t. There was something wrong with his knees.

I can’t do this.

“Hey, Adam.”

“What?” He ground the words from between locked jaws.

“The Duke said that courage is being afraid and saddling up anyhow. Besides, just because that happened in one plane, doesn’t mean all planes are bad.”

The echo of what he’d told Priss about “nice guys” all those weeks ago made him look up into the eyes that were so like hers. “You know, if you keep taking after your sister, there may be hope for you yet.”

“Call for all rows to board Flight 255 to Tampa out of Gate 22.”

Adam flinched.
How am I going to do this?
His fingers shook even though they had a death grip on the seat of his chair.

“Hey.” Nacho stood, hand extended. “Come on. We gotta go save Priss, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” His words came out jittery but he managed to stand.

Nacho’s hand slipped into his. “If you tell my homies I held hands with a guy, I’ll make your life hell. You know that, right?”

“You’re assuming we’re going to live through this.”

They boarded the plane together.

Nacho had asked for a window seat. Adam took the middle, figuring if he was sandwiched in it would make it harder to run.

At the stewardess’s suggestion, he pulled his belt tight. Then pulled it tighter.

“Wow, is this amazing or what? I never thought I’d get to go anywhere on a plane.”

“How could you expect so little of life?” Adam slid his hands under his legs to hide the shake.

Mouth tight, Nacho stared out the window.

Way to go, ace. Where this kid came from, a plane ride was as likely as you becoming an astronaut.

Shame loosened his terror.

“That’s another good reason to choose your career wisely. You want to have the funds for the good stuff.” When the engine drone rose, Adam grimaced. “Not that any part of this is the good stuff.”

“How much do you think I’d make as a custom painter?”

Revenue expectations and retirement plan explanations carried Adam through takeoff with only one minor panic attack when the captain powered back at cruising altitude.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” Nacho stared out the window. “Oh, cool, I’ve never seen the tops of clouds before.”

Adam had to look. And he found he could, just, because the ride was so smooth.

Nacho pointed. “It looks like you could bounce on them. But—” his smile dissolved “—I knew that was bull.”

“What?”

“Ah, nothin’.”

“Tell me, Nacho.”

He scanned the clouds. “Once, in the kid warehouse, a minister came to talk to me. He said that my mom was an angel living in the clouds with Jesus.” He wiped a finger down the window. “I knew that was just a story to make me feel better.”

Adam’s heart squeezed but not from fear. “You believe this plane is going to stay up in the air, right?”

“Course I do.”

“Why?”

“I learned that in school. It’s ’cause of the way they shape the wings.” He cupped his hand to demonstrate. “The air goes over it, and makes lift.”

“How do you know? Look out there. I can’t see it.”

“Because you can’t see air. But that’s what—oh.” One corner of Nacho’s mouth lifted and he glanced over. “You’re different than I thought.”

“Ditto, dude.”

Nacho smirked and rolled his eyes. “Don’t say ‘dude.’ It is so not you.”

“All right, deal.” Adam reached out his hand and they shook on it. “You know, I have kind of a plan for when we see Priss. But it won’t work without you. You want to hear it?”

“Does a bear shi—um. Yeah.”

Just then Adam did something he never thought he’d do on a plane again.

He smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY

W
HAT
THE
HECK
is taking so long?

Even the prostitute had made bail hours ago. Priss paced her three steps to the bars. Now she knew how a stray mutt at the pound felt. Except people came to see them. No one had come back here in a long time. Her gut twisted, only partly due to hunger.

What if Adam had to borrow the money?

You’ve asked too much. You should have worked this out on your own.

Yeah, but how? Stage a breakout? The forty dollars she had on her was a fart in the wind to that bail. And Nacho had to go to school tomorrow. If the county found out she was in jail, they’d take him from her.

She wrapped her arms around her burning stomach. “God, how did I honk this up so bad?”

You didn’t think, that’s how.

She was used to reacting, dancing and juking her way out of trouble when it found her. But that only worked solo. Besides, she’d vowed to leave all that shit behind.

But she hadn’t left her temper behind and look where that had led.

Okay, so you’re going to have to change.
Again. She’d try to blend in, to toe the middle-class line from now on. It wasn’t her. She’d hate it. But if it would give Nacho a safe, even-keeled home life, it would be worth it.

Her main focus had to be Nacho.

She straightened her shoulders and finger-combed her hair. She’d let it grow out. She’d wear ironed cotton clothes and proper loafers. She’d trade Mona in for a mommy-mobile.

No more temper. No more mutt.

She stopped, hands on the bars, peering down the hallway.

How long does it take to wire money? Maybe after he hung up, he got fed up and decided to let you cool your heels.

How would she know?

The money wouldn’t show up, that’s how.

Her stomach continued its attempt to consume itself.

She remembered Adam, standing behind the drug counter in that sexy white coat, smiling while an octogenarian told him about her great-grandbaby. She remembered him out in front of the drugstore, apologizing to Nacho.

Adam was a true-blue nice guy. If he said he’d bail her out, he would—even if he wanted nothing to do with her after this.

Two hours later, despair had set in.

Set in, hell, it had camped out, lit a fire and commenced a drunken party.

She sat on the cold cement bench, knees pulled up, resting her aching forehead on them.

Clang!

The metal door at the end of the hall slid open, and she bolted upright. Footsteps, then a cop stepped to her cell. “You made bail.”

Thank you, God...and Adam Preston.

There was an open-ended ticket home in her backpack at the hotel and the forty bucks she still had would buy her a cab ride to the airport. Luckily, the police station was only two miles from the hotel. Shouldn’t take long to walk.

She bounced on her toes, waiting for the cop to quit fumbling and get the door open. Her stomach rumbled but it was just going to have to wait until she got home.

Home.
Warmth spread through her.
You’re going home soon.

No matter what awaited her in Widow’s Grove, it couldn’t ruin the perfect feeling of having a home to go to. She followed the cop down the hall to a window where another police officer handed over her fanny pack and her baseball cap.

“Thanks.” She flipped it and put it on backwards, then remembering her vow, took it off and put it on right.

No more mutt.

When the cop unlocked the last door, she walked into the lobby of the police station, eyes on the door to the outside. If she jogged—

“Hey, where you going?”

Nacho?

He ran over, threw his arms around her and hugged her hard. “You saved me from the kid warehouse. So we came to save you back.”

Closing her eyes, she put her nose to his hair and pulled in the scent of kid. Her kid.

She glanced up, and when Nacho let her go, guts jumping, she took the few steps to where Adam stood, hands in the back pockets of his jeans, his expression unreadable.

Nacho followed her, not touching, but close.

“You flew?”

“What else could I do? You hung up on me.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Couldn’t have done it without Nacho’s help.”

Nacho beamed.

“Priss—”

“Please, just let me get this out first.” If she waited she wouldn’t have the guts to say it. “It goes without saying—I’m going to pay you back as soon as humanly possible.”

When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand and addressed Nacho.

“I did a lot of thinking today. I put some things into perspective. First, we’re staying in Widow’s Grove.”

Nacho pumped a fist. “Yes.”

“It’s past time I grew up. My focus from now on is you and making the best home that I’m capable of. If it means becoming a soccer mom, I’m going to—”

“Hang on. I’m not signing up for that crap.”

“Dude, it’s just a euphemism, relax.” She turned to Adam. “And I want you to know that things are going to change. No more stray mutt. I’m going to—”

“But I like mutts.” He spread his hands. “They’re loving, fiercely loyal, and they’re brave.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “My life was way too boring before you two burst into it. You both helped me discover my own courage by witnessing yours.” Adam’s eyes bored into her. “You don’t have to give up your priorities in order for us to have a relationship.

“Okay. But I think we all have things we can learn from each other. What do you say we call a truce in keeping score and just see where this leads?”

Watching them both, Adam waited.

“I’m in,” Nacho said.

She’d have never believed there was a place for her to call home. And yet, in Widow’s Grove, she’d found it. She’d never imagined having her own family, but then her brother dropped into her life. She’d never believed in wanting such a thing because it didn’t result in having. But could it be that having
was
possible?

She wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain; if she didn’t reach out and grab the chance, she’d never find out. And with this man, it felt safe to reach.

A calm happiness welled in her as she took Adam’s hand. “Oh, yeah, sign me up, too.”

A smile transformed his face, softening the tight lines. His eyes promised things. Good things. He squeezed her hand. “Okay, then. Let’s go home.”

They walked to the door. Adam held it open, slipped an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. “By the way, you hung up before I could tell you. I love you, Priss Hart.”