The Summer He Came Home (30 page)

Read on for an early look at

The Christmas He Loved Her

Coming October 2013 from Sourcebooks

The cemetery where his brother rested was a desolate place in late November. It sat upon a drab green hill, surrounded by a forest of pine and birch. In the distance, Crystal Lake shimmered through skeletal tree limbs like wisps of blue silk as a cold wind swept inward and drew white caps on top of the water.

Jake Edwards pulled his jeep over to the shoulder, cut the engine and slowly exhaled. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly they cramped, and though he stretched them out and tried to relax, it was no use. He was wound tighter than a junkie in rehab, and he drummed a methodical tune along the dashboard as he gazed out the window. This particular cemetery was the oldest in town and many of Crystal Lake’s founding families were buried within its borders. Grand mausoleums and tombstones rose against the dull gray sky, painted dark, like a macabre, city skyline. He stared at them for several long minutes, eyes hard, mouth tight, as a light rain began to fall. It was nothing more than a drizzle really and created a mist that hung over the cemetery, though he only had eyes for the row just beyond the large oak tree.

Row number thirty-six. His brother, Jesse’s, row.

The darkness in him stirred leaving the taste of bitterness on his tongue. He let it settle. He let it burn. Hell, these days it was the only thing that told him he was still alive.

A crow flew lazily in the sky, slicing through the haze until it swooped low and settled on top of a large, stone angel not far from him. The bird ruffled its feathers in slow controlled movements. It cocked its head, then turned and stared at Jake—small beady eyes steady, as it slowly blinked.

Abruptly, Jake turned the key and put his jeep in gear. He continued down Lakeshore Road because he sure as hell wasn’t ready to deal with the cemetery yet.

His parents were expecting him, but first he had one more stop—a certain someone he needed to see. A certain someone he was damn sure had no desire to see him, and he didn’t blame her one bit. Not after the way he’d left things.

Jake Edwards had screwed up and it was time to set things right.

Five minutes later he stepped out of his truck and slung a worn leather bag over his shoulder as he glanced up at a small cottage set back a few hundred feet from the road. At one time it had been a carriage house and was a solid structure built entirely of large blocks of gray, weathered, limestone. A simple white spindled porch ran the length of it, with empty baskets hung at each corner, their usual treasure of poppy-red geraniums long dead.

An old, rickety rocking chair moved gently on its own there, the legs squeaking as it moved back and forth, pushed by either the crisp breeze that rolled in off the lake, or the ghost of Josiah Edwards, an ancestor said to haunt the woods.

Jake pulled the collar of his leather jacket up to his chin and shuddered as a strong gust of wind whipped across the still green lawn. He glanced up at the sky once more. Clouds gathered, a bulbous display over the lake, their slate gray color barely discernible amongst the gloom.

They were definitely snow clouds.

Jake took a step forward, eyes narrowed as his gaze took in an expensive Mercedes parked near the house next to a rusting and faded-yellow Volkswagen. He wasn’t sure who owned the Mercedes but the rust bucket he knew well. The ancient beetle had seen better days that’s for sure, but then it had been a broken down mess when she had first bought it.

The car belonged to his sister-in-law, Raine, and in a world gone to shit, was something that hadn’t changed.

Jake slowly perused the property. He spied a weather beaten bench near the tree line and knew that if he took the path that led through the woods to his right, he’d end up at his parent’s home—eventually. It was still a hike, several miles to be exact, but this parcel of land, boasting an acre and a half of prime waterfront, had been a wedding present to his brother and his then-new bride, Raine.

A familiar ache crept across his chest and for a moment he faltered, his eyes squeezed shut. He pictured the three of them, Jake, his brother Jesse, and Raine decked out in their wedding finery. It had rained that day, a good omen according to some, and Raine’s dress was tattered along the hem from dancing outdoors in the mud while his brother’s tuxedo had remained crisp and clean. Jake’s tux, however, was as ruined as the bride’s dress. They’d posed for a picture, the three of them, there beneath the ancient Oak, near the bench.

Jake sighed and opened his eyes, resting once more on the empty bench. It needed a fresh coat of paint. He shook the melancholy from his mind and strode toward the house, his long jean-clad legs eating up the distance in no time, each step placed in front of the other with an assuredness that belied the turmoil he felt.

Jake Edwards had left Crystal Lake nearly a year and a half ago and damned if he’d not been heading home ever since. He’d just not known it until now. And even though he was pretty sure Raine Edwards wanted nothing to do with him, he was going to try his best to make amends. It was the least he could do. For Raine. For Jesse.

And maybe, for himself.

He stepped up onto the porch and heard voices inside. His gut rolled nervously. She had company. Maybe now wasn’t a good time.

His dark eyes drifted toward his jeep. Ten seconds and he could be outta here before anyone knew better. He took a step backward, weighing his options, his jaw clenched tightly as the all too familiar wave of guilt, anger, and loathing washed through him.
Coward.

Jake ran his fingers through the thick mess of hair atop his head and tried to ease the tension that settled along his shoulders. He’d not seen Raine since the fourth of July, and they’d not parted on good terms. They’d both said some things…hurtful things, but he’d made everything worse by taking off for what had only meant to be a few weeks to clear his head. The few weeks had turned into months and those months had bled into nearly a year and a half.

Jake blew out a hot breath and reached for the door when it was suddenly wrenched open and a bundle of gold streaked past his feet and barked madly as it did so. It was a ball of fur that ran crazily down the steps, with a chubby baby frame barely able to manage them. He stepped back and then the puppy was forgotten as he stared down into the face that had haunted him his entire life it seemed.

Huge round eyes the color of Crystal Lake on a stormy day, widened, while the small bow mouth fell open in shock. Her skin was pale, the kiss of summer long faded and the angles were sharper, more defined. She looked fragile. And beautiful. And delicate. And…

“You cut your hair,” was all he managed to say—barely.

Her fingers twisted in the uneven, ebony ends that fell a few inches past her jaw but didn’t quite touch her shoulders. It was a reflex action and damn, if it didn’t tug on the cold strings still attached to his heart. She pulled on a long, curling piece, tucked it behind her ear and her hand settled against her chest, tightened into a fist.

She wore a pink T-shirt,
Salem’s Lot
etched across her breasts in bold, black font. The old, worn jeans that hugged her hips looked dog eared and done for, the ends rolled up past delicate ankles, leaving her feet bare, her toenails painted in chipped, blue polish.

For a moment there was nothing but silence and then she moistened her lips, and exhaled slowly. “Your hair is longer than it’s ever been.”

The sound of her voice was like a returning memory, one that filled the emptiness inside and stretched thin over his heart.

He nodded, not quite knowing what to say. He’d officially left the military six months ago and hair had been the last thing on his mind. The closely cropped style he’d sported his entire adult life was no more. Now it curled past his ears, the dark brown locks looking more like his buddy Cain’s, than what Jake was used to.

“It’s been…a long time.” Her words were halting, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak.

He held her gaze for a moment and then glanced away. The old wicker chair still rocked gently in the breeze and the golden bundle of fur that had shot out of Raine’s house was sniffing the ground near his jeep.

“Yeah,” was all he managed and even that was hard.

“Nice that you made time for your father.” A touch of frost was in her voice now and he glanced back sharply.

Awkward silence fell between the two of them as he stared down into eyes that were hard. Had he expected anything less?

“He’s been sick for a while now.” Her chin jutted out. “You know that right?” Accusation rang in her words.

A spark of anger lit inside him. So this was how it was going to be. “Yeah, Raine. I know.”

Her mouth thinned and a flush crept into her pale cheeks. “Well why the hell did you wait so long to come home to us?”

“I couldn’t get away,” he said flatly.

She arched a brow and shivered. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t.”

He took a step closer and reiterated.
“Couldn’t.”

He knew part of it was bullshit. If he’d really wanted to come home earlier he could have. The guys would have understood. But he’d never admit that it was only his father’s health taking a wrong turn that had finally brought him back. Because that would mean admitting the reason he’d stayed away for so long was right in front of him.

All five feet four inches of her.

Her toe tapped against the shiny, wooden planks at her feet and her eyes narrowed into a glare that told him everything. Raine Edwards was pissed.

She cleared her throat and raised her chin.

She was more than pissed.

Jake squared his shoulders. This was good. He’d rather her mad as hell then weepy and soft. Mad he could handle. Soft and needy, not so much. Not from her anyway.

“You going to invite me in or are we going to have it out, here on the porch?” Jake arched a brow and waited. Nothing was ever “easy” and “gentle” between himself and Raine. There had always been that friction.

She and his brother Jesse had been like yin and yang, while Jake and Raine were like oil and water.

From the time they were kids—how many nights had Jesse given up and gone to bed long after the two of them argued over the most minute detail, of whatever the hell it was they happened to be discussing? From Scrabble to politics to music and everything in between.

Raine’s mouth thinned and she stepped past him, clapped her hands, and yelled “Gibson” as she did so. The puppy’s head shot up, its round body quivering as it answered her call. The dog ran toward the house, chasing a leaf as it did so, weaving an intricate path until it climbed the stairs and barked at her feet.

She scooped the puppy into her arms and laughed as it struggled to lick her face. Something inside him thawed in that moment. Something that he’d encased in a wall of ice. It was painful and the dread in his gut doubled. He’d known this was a bad idea, but it was a bad idea he needed to see through. He owed it to Jesse even if he was a year and a half late.

And he owed it to Raine after the way he’d left things.

She stepped back and arched a brow. “You planning on spending the night?”

“Excuse me?” Jake answered carefully, not understanding her angle.

Raine licked her lips, the heightened color in her cheeks a healthy pink in an otherwise pale face. She pointed toward his bag. “Did you pack extra boxers and your toothbrush?”

“No.” Jake shook his head. “This is just…”

She turned before he could finish and indicated that he follow her inside as she strolled down the hall, the puppy still in her arms, hips swaying gently. He couldn’t help himself. His eyes roved her figure hungrily, taking in every inch from the top of her head to the bottom of her bare feet. His mouth tightened, a frown settling across his brow because he sure as hell didn’t like what he saw. She was too thin. Too pale.

Too much like the ghosts he saw wandering the base in Fort Hood. War widows and widowers, distraught families, and friends. All of them had that look. Christ he saw it every day he looked in the mirror, but Raine…damn, he wanted more for her.

Then maybe I should have done something about it.
He winced at the thought, mostly because it was the truth.

The house was brightly lit, the sun that shone in through the windows creating warmth against the rich, oak floors. For a second Jake faltered as the heaviness of the moment slipped over him. So many memories he’d tried to forget. He’d helped his brother restore the entire main floor the last time they’d been home on leave nearly two years ago. It was the last time all three of them had been together.

A male voice interrupted his train of thought and for a moment the hot flush of something fierce washed through him. He jerked his head, hackles up and stared at her in silence, hands fisted tightly at his sides.

Raine paused in the doorway that led to the living room/dining area and glanced over her shoulder—eyes still questioning, mouth still tight.

“Look what I found on the porch,” she announced and walked into the living room. Jake took a moment and then followed suit, halting just inside the room.

“Son of a bitch!” Mackenzie Draper, one of his oldest buddies, set his beer onto the low slung table in front of the sofa and rose, a smile splitting his face wide open. “You didn’t say anything about coming home for the holidays.”

Jake grinned. “It wasn’t in the plans last time I saw you.”

“Wait a minute,” Raine interrupted. “When did you see Jake?” Her gaze focused on Mac, who shifted uncomfortably.

“I had business in Texas a few months back and we got together for a drink.”

“Texas,” Raine muttered. “Right.”

She turned stormy eyes his way and Jake flinched at the hurt and accusation that colored them a darker hue. He felt even more like a shit.

“Nice that you have time for
some
of your friends, Jake.”

“It wasn’t,” Mackenzie began, “planned really. I had a couple of extra days and we got together.”

Raine set the puppy down. “That’s a hell of a lot more than I ever got.” She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her words.

Jake ignored the taunt and remained silent, his eyes locked onto Mackenzie’s. His friend was dressed in an expensive suit, tailored to fit his tall frame, the charcoal gray a nice choice against the plum shirt. Though his collar was loose and a thin black tie lay on the table in front of him, Mac always looked
GQ
ready. With his thick, dirty blond hair and vibrant green eyes, he’d been labeled a pretty boy his entire life.