When We Met (15 page)

He forced himself to remain in this moment, to introduce himself and shake hands with the kids. He learned their names and their stories. But all the while, all he could think about was his son. The son he would never see again. The son he hadn't been able to save.

* * *

T
ARYN
STUDIED
THE
graphics for the preliminary presentation for Cole and the LL@R team. She wasn't sure they'd captured the spirit of the company yet. But as she studied the pictures and lettering, she had the thought that maybe she and Angel could brainstorm some kind of art project using computer graphics. The Acorns would love it. There had to be an FWM bead for being creative. There seemed to be a bead for everything else.

But not art for the sake of it, she thought. There would have to be a practical use. Posters for a festival, maybe. Or an awareness campaign. It seemed that every month celebrated something. They could pick a cause and design posters. The girls would love that.

She went online and started searching for lists of what was celebrated when. There was national ice cream month—something she could seriously support. Maybe a day was better, she thought. Something about community service might be nice. National something...

She continued to search online. Her phone rang and she picked it up. “This is Taryn.”

There was a pause before the caller spoke. “It's Justice.”

Taryn stopped typing. There was a problem. She could hear it in his voice. “What is it?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “Angel had a meeting this morning with Raoul Moreno. He's a local former football player.”

“I know who he is,” she told Justice. Raoul was the one who had invited the boys to Fool's Gold in the first place. They'd played in his Pro-Am golf tournament and subsequently changed her life forever. Although she was less annoyed about that than she had been.

“He got back and went into the workout room. He's on a punching bag.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, not sure what to do with the information.

“You should get here as soon as you can,” Justice told her.

The statement wasn't a request.

“Give me five minutes,” she said, and hung up.

Which was about how long it took her to grab her bag, head to her car and drive the few blocks to CDS. When she arrived, she parked, then hurried inside. Justice was waiting by the door.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said with a shrug. “He won't talk to me or Ford. I can't find Consuelo, so...”

“I'm glad you called.”

They were walking down the hallway. She was aware of a thunking noise that got louder with each step. They walked into the big workout room and she saw Angel hitting the punching bags over and over. Even from across the large space, she could see he'd taped his hands and yet blood seeped through the tape and dripped onto the floor.

But what really scared her was the look on his face and the expression in his eyes. It was as if he'd seen a monster. No, she thought. Not a monster. Something much bigger and more frightening. He'd seen into the pit of hell, and whatever was there was coming after him.

She took a step toward him. Her high heels made her sway on the mat. She bent down and took them off, then walked barefoot to where he continued to punish the bag. Or maybe just himself.

She stopped next to him. “Angel.”

He looked at her. She could tell he wasn't seeing her. Not at first, then his eyes cleared.

“Taryn? What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you. Come on. We're going to my place.”

“What? Why?”

He was pale. Sweat drenched his T-shirt. When she touched his upper arm, his skin was clammy. She pulled gently.

“Come on. Let's go.”

She'd thought he might fight. Instead he nodded and moved toward her. She led him across the mats. After stepping into her shoes, she headed for the front of the building. Justice met them in the hall. He handed Taryn a small black duffel bag.

“A change of clothes,” he said.

She took them. “I'll call you later.”

She and Angel walked out of the building and toward her car. When she'd unlocked the passenger door, he got in without being asked.

She watched him fumble with the seat belt. But his hands were taped and swollen and he couldn't move his fingers. She bent down and fastened it for him, then kissed his cheek.

He turned toward her. For a second, she would have sworn she saw tears in his eyes. Then he blinked and it was as if they'd never been there at all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
NGEL
DIDN
'
T
SPEAK
on the short drive to Taryn's house. She kept glancing at him, trying to see if he was okay, but she couldn't tell much from his profile. When they got to her place, she guided him inside. She checked the duffel and saw that Justice had given her a full set of clothing, so she led Angel to the bathroom off the master and started the shower.

After kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her jacket, she pulled off his T-shirt. He toed out of his sneakers and pulled off his socks, then stood immobile while she carefully unwrapped the tape on his hands.

She went as slowly and carefully as she could, but she knew she had to be hurting him. His skin was cut, raw and bruised. Blood seeped from open wounds. He looked as if he'd been in a hell of a fight and she supposed he had been. She wondered who the opponent had been and suspected it had been himself. But why?

When she was done with the tape, she opened the shower door. “Finish undressing,” she told him. “Take a shower. I'll be back in five minutes.”

He nodded. She went out and closed the bathroom door behind him. She exhaled slowly when she heard him close the shower door.

She changed her clothes quickly and then dug out an old first aid kit. By the time she returned to the bathroom, Angel was toweling off. His blood left stains on her towel, but she didn't care.

After he was dressed, she took him to the dining room, where she'd set out her supplies. At least now his hands were clean. She used an antiseptic spray and the largest bandages she owned to patch him.

“Is this going to be okay?” she asked. “Should you go to a doctor or the hospital?”

“Just a few scratches,” he told her.

His voice was low and rough. As if he hadn't spoken in days. Or had been screaming until he was hoarse. She knew neither was true. She kept her hands lightly on top of his, careful not to put any weight on his wounds. She studied him.

His hair was mussed—damp and sticking up in places. He was pale. Still broad through the shoulders. Powerful, yet not fully with her.

“Angel? What happened?”

He looked at her. There was something in his eyes, she thought. A vacancy. For a second she wondered if he even knew she was in the room.

He swallowed. “We were both so damn young, Marie and I. Kids, really. I was a new recruit and she worked in her uncle's store. Her family wasn't happy about us dating. Not at first. But I was like that stray dog you can't shake. No matter what, I wouldn't go away. So they accepted the inevitable and we got married. Two months later, I shipped out.”

He was still staring at something she couldn't see. Telling the story to her or to someone else? Maybe himself? She knew it didn't matter. That in the telling came whatever healing he would have today.

He swore. “I missed her and I loved what I was doing about the same. Which made for a difficult time. When I got home a year later, she held out a baby boy. She'd been pregnant and hadn't told me. She'd said she didn't want to worry me. That I was doing dangerous things and needed to concentrate. She'd named him Marcus, after my dad.”

“That must have made you feel good,” she said quietly. “Happy.”

“I was. We were. We were a family and I loved them both.”

She moved her hands to his forearms and squeezed. She didn't know why he was dealing with this today, but she could feel his pain. “It's not your fault. It was an accident.”

“If I had been there... If I had been driving...”

“It's not possible for one person to protect another from life.”

“I know.” His voice filled the room as he roared the words and stood. “I know that I couldn't shield them from accidents and pain. But I should have tried. I should have been there. I loved them and I didn't keep them safe.”

He crossed to the window and stared out at her small yard. She watched him, not sure what to do. She could intellectually understand his pain but couldn't know what it felt like in her heart. Because she'd never allowed herself to love that much. Not even Jack, who had squeezed his way in more than anyone else.

She'd never been in love, had never wanted to be. Faced with his tangible grief, she wondered if it was ever worth it.

“What happened today?” she asked.

“I talked to Raoul Moreno. He wants my help with an antibullying program he's starting. I said I would and he took me to the high school. I talked with some teenagers there. Boys.”

He turned slowly and faced her. His jaw tightened, as if he was holding in as much as he could.

“You know the irony?” he asked. “When I went to see Mayor Marsha about volunteering and she told me about the FWM, I thought I'd be working with boys. I figured I knew what that was like because of Marcus. Then, when I found out about the girls, I freaked.”

She smiled. “Yes, I was there.”

His mouth curved up slightly, then twisted again. “I was wrong. Being with those kids nearly did me in. All I could think about was Marcus. What he was like, how he died. I could barely talk. Raoul covered for me. I'm going to have to tell him what happened.”

And get over it, she thought. Because there was no way Angel was going to back away from the challenge.

“I didn't know what to do,” he admitted. “The bag's a safe place.”

By “bag” he must mean the punching bag, she thought. Hitting that was safer than driving too fast, or getting drunk and then driving. Her gaze dropped to his bandaged hands. Not that it was an easy way to deal with emotion.

“I'm sorry to put you through this,” he told her.

“Why?” She stood and crossed to him. “You're feeling what you feel. You had a wife and a child. You lost them both in a horrible way and every now and then you're in a bad place.”

He looked into her eyes. “That's it?”

“What else would there be?”

“You could tell me to get over it. That it's time to move on.”

“Not my job or my style,” she said.

His love for his family had nothing to do with her, except maybe to point out that nearly everyone was capable of that kind of commitment except her. Love required trust, and there was no way she would go there. She'd made a choice a long time ago and saw no reason to change her mind.

He reached for her and pulled her close. His strong arms held her tight.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Anytime.”

He didn't speak, which was okay with her. Because if he did, if he'd said he would take her up on that, it would send them to a place that neither of them wanted to go. Marie would be the love of his life for as long as he lived. Taryn knew she would never be able to trust anyone with her heart. It made them perfect for each other. Neither of them would allow things to get serious.

While the realization should have been comforting, instead she felt an odd sense of sadness. As if she'd lost something important. Something she'd almost been able to grasp, until it had somehow slipped away.

* * *

“I
F
YOU
WORE
FLATS
,
this wouldn't be a problem,” Larissa said as Taryn parked in front of Jo's Bar.

Taryn looked at her friend. “You're wearing flats. You could have walked.”

Larissa grinned. “I was being supportive.”

“By driving with me and then complaining about my shoes. It's an unusual way to show support.”

“I'm an unusual person.”

When Taryn had come in to work this morning and seen the lunch date on her calendar, she nearly canceled. Since picking up Angel the previous afternoon, she hadn't been able to shake the sense of her world being out of whack. Then she'd reminded herself that life had to go on and hanging out with girlfriends was about the most affirming activity she knew.

Taryn collected her tote and got out of the car. The crocodile-and-glittered-python satchel bag had been delivered that morning. She'd seen it online the day after Angel's snakebite and had bought it in a gesture of solidarity. So far Larissa hadn't noticed, which was good. Larissa didn't believe in using animals or reptiles for bags or shoes. Although, as Taryn liked to point out, Larissa did occasionally wear leather.

They walked into Jo's Bar and saw that Isabel, Felicia and Dellina had already claimed a table. The three women waved them over. Taryn smiled as she approached, not wanting anyone to know she wasn't feeling her perky best.

She couldn't shake what had happened yesterday with Angel. After the incident with the punching bag, he'd stayed with her. They'd slept together and in the morning he'd made love to her—swollen hands and all. She could say that, yes, he was back to who he had been...but
she
wasn't. She was still wrestling with all the emotion he'd been dealing with. The pain and suffering.

She wasn't sure what she was feeling, so she didn't know how to make it better—or make it go away. Either would be a help. But instead she was left wallowing in something she didn't understand and the growing sense that she might well be in over her head.

She and Larissa had just taken their seats when Consuelo joined them. Jo walked over with menus and mentioned she had a new pulled pork nacho plate, if they wanted to try those.

Isabel groaned. “I'm trying to lose ten pounds.”

Dellina smiled at her. “Don't take this wrong, but you're always trying to lose ten pounds. The pulled pork nachos sound great.”

Consuelo studied Isabel. “I could work up an exercise program,” she offered. “Get you into fighting shape.”

Isabel shook her head. “I don't want to fight anyone. To be honest, I think I'd rather complain about the extra pounds than do something about them. No offense.”

“None taken.” Consuelo turned to Taryn. “You should do less cardio and more weight training. You have good core strength, but another five pounds of muscle would make a big difference in your metabolism.”

Taryn thought about the weight room at Score and knew that any of the boys would be delighted to take her through a workout.

“I'd rather have a root canal,” she murmured. “And now I want the nachos, too.”

Larissa leaned toward Consuelo. “So you're secretly working for Jo's nacho vendor?”

“I guess,” Consuelo muttered. “Now I want a margarita.”

Dellina grinned. “That sounds great. But I feel compelled to point out it's only lunch. Alcohol means a very slow afternoon.”

Isabel tossed her menu on the table. “I'm walking.”

“I'm gestating,” Felicia said. “Jo has agreed to make me a nutritious smoothie that will aid fetal development.”

“We drove,” Larissa said, glancing at Taryn. “It's her shoes.”

Taryn reached for her bag and dug out a pair of flats she kept tucked away for emergencies. “I can stagger back to the office if you can.”

Larissa's eyes lit up. “I say we go for margaritas.”

Consuelo rested her head on her hand. “Me, too. Getting drunk sounds like fun.”

Isabel waved at Jo. “A pitcher of margaritas for the table. And nachos.”

Jo studied them. “You girls are getting wild. Everyone walking?”

They all nodded.

“Margaritas it is. And a smoothie for Felicia.”

Less than five minutes later Taryn was sipping the cold sweet-tart drink and waiting for the tequila to work its magic. She couldn't remember the last time she'd sat around with girlfriends over drinks and just had a good time. Probably because she'd never been very good at finding girlfriends. After her mom had left, she'd emotionally shut down. She'd been too scared of her dad to invite anyone over. What if he'd shown up drunk?

After running away, she'd spent all her time trying to keep herself fed and safe. She hadn't had time for wasted afternoons. Eventually whatever small girl-talk skills she'd managed to acquire had atrophied. Until she'd moved here.

Not that she was going to tell the boys she was really settling in to life in Fool's Gold.

“I am very close to the unveiling of the newly remodeled Paper Moon,” Isabel said, reaching for her drink. “I'm really happy with how everything has turned out.” She looked at Taryn. “Madeline is working out well. She's come into her own with the bridal half of the business.”

“Better for you.” Taryn knew that Isabel preferred working with the designers and buying inventory than dealing with the emotional ups and downs of brides-to-be.

“It is. She's really patient with them. She can handle the mothers and mothers-in-law, which is an art.” She paused. “I really want to keep her in the store. Right now a monetary bonus isn't going to happen, but I was thinking maybe a small percentage of ownership.”

Dellina glanced between them. “That sounded like a question, not a statement. Are you looking for advice?” She turned to Taryn. “I didn't know you'd been in retail.”

Taryn could already feel the tequila going to work—probably because she was starving. No doubt Isabel was reacting to the same. Otherwise, this was a conversation they would have had in private.

“I haven't,” Taryn said, deciding there was no point in hiding the truth. Not that it had ever been a secret. More like something she hadn't shared with a bunch of people. “I'm an investor in Isabel's business.”

“More than that,” Isabel told them. “She basically paid for the remodeling. I used my savings to put a large down payment on buying the business.”

Consuelo raised her eyebrows. “Buying local?”

Larissa stared at her. “That's so nice. I'm surprised.”

Dellina chuckled. “You're saying she's not nice?”

“What?” Larissa shook her head. “No. Of course she's nice. It's just not always obvious. Like this.” She clapped her hands together. “You have to let Madeline be a part owner. It's so perfect.”