Читать книгу The Real Mr Right - Karen Templeton - Страница 8

Chapter Two

When Kelly’s phone buzzed at some ungodly hour the next morning, she checked the display, then stiffened. However, tempting as it was to let the call go through to voice mail, she knew Rick would only keep calling until she answered. More than once, she’d considered getting a new number. But even as messed up as things had been, she still hadn’t been able to completely cut him off. Not that she could have, anyway, with the kids.

After last night, however...

Still dressed, she unwrapped herself from the heavy Pendleton blanket that had been folded at the foot of Sabrina’s bed and crunched forward, forking her fingers through her tangled curls before answering.

“Where the hell are you?” Rick said.

Meaning he’d been by the apartment. Squeezing her eyes shut, Kelly hugged the brightly patterned blanket to her cramping chest, reminding herself of how far she’d come, that she was brave and strong and no longer vulnerable to Rick’s guilt trips. To his threats, veiled or otherwise. That she was nobody’s victim, dammit. “You don’t need to know that right now.”

“The hell you say. And that’s not answering the question.”

Anger propelled her off the bed, even if she did cling to the bedpost for support as she shoved her still-socked feet into her sneakers. “Yes, it is—”

“It’s not right, Kelly,” Rick whined in her ear, “not knowing where my kids are. Why are you punishing me like this?”

Dear God—was he serious? She sank onto the edge of the rumpled bed, her free arm strangling her trembling stomach. Had she dreamed last night? Or misinterpreted things that badly?

Then she remembered his voice, low and cold, uttering words she would have never dreamed she’d ever hear come out of his mouth, even at his worst, and her strength returned. “This isn’t about punishing you, it’s about protecting our children—”

“That’s bull—”

“You threatened them, Rick!” she whispered, praying the kids were still asleep. “Said if you couldn’t have them, then neither of us could.”

“What? Where the hell are you getting this?”

“From you. Word for word.”

A beat or two passed before he said, “Even if I did say that, you’ve got it all balled up, I couldn’t have possibly meant—”

“I know what I heard, Rick. And how you said it. You telling me you don’t remember—?”

“I don’t, swear to God. Whether you believe me or not.”

Kelly sighed so hard it was almost painful. “Well, you did. Whether you believe me or not. Look, I know we’ve had this conversation a hundred times already, but I’m going to say it again—you need help. And if what went down last night doesn’t bring that home for you, I don’t know what will. And until you get that help—” she fisted her free hand “—I’m not letting you anywhere near the kids. End of discussion, I’m done.”

Shaking slightly, she disconnected the call as Matt appeared at the open bedroom door, startling her, his arms crossed as if nothing short of a tornado would budge him. While she probably looked like a headlight-blinded possum a split second before splat.

Wondering how much he’d heard—and deciding she didn’t care—Kelly splayed her fingers through her hair again, then let her hand drop.

“Kind of hard to have a meltdown with you gawking at me like that.”

“You think I’ve never seen a meltdown before?”

“Not from me you haven’t. And trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“Somehow, I doubt you can top Sabrina in that department—”

“Matt! For heaven’s sake—don’t you have someplace, anyplace, to be?”

He shoved his fingers into his jeans’ pockets, revealing a dark green corduroy shirt underneath a beat-up leather jacket. Black, of course. To go with the beard stubble, even more pronounced than it’d been last night. “Yeah, actually,” he said on a rush of air, “I’m expecting a delivery at the house, then I’m headed into the city. But it can wait—”

“No. Really. We’ll be fine.” Kelly tried to smile, failed, went with a frustrated growl instead. “Dammit—I thought I’d feel relieved once we got away. Instead I feel... I don’t know. Like...like maybe I overreacted.”

Matt’s expression darkened. “And what was the alternative? Stick around until something bad did happen? Like you said yourself, sometimes you gotta listen to that voice.”

“Then why can’t I trust that? If it’s so right, why am I second-guessing myself?” Her hand shot up. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Not that you could. And, anyway, you don’t need to get sucked into this any more than you already are. But thanks. For letting us stay here.”

“No problem,” Matt said, then extended his hand. “Give me your phone.”

She pressed it to her chest. “Why?”

“So I can plug in my number, why do you think? And I want yours, too.” When she hesitated, he pushed out a breath. “I’m not gonna stalk you, for God’s sake. Just give me the damn phone.” So she did, and watched with the strangest mixture of relief and worry as he deftly added his number to her contacts. “You need anything, you call, you hear me? And before you give me any this-is-my-problem-not-yours crap... I get that, okay? Doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.” He handed back her phone, then dug his out of his jacket pocket. Waited.

She sighed, told him then frowned. “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, for all intents and purposes we’re strangers—”

“Like hell.” Matt slipped his phone back into his pocket, then slammed his hands into his jacket pockets. “I mean, yeah, on the surface, you have a point. But we saw each other nearly every day for years. That hardly makes us strangers. In fact, I’m guessing both Sabrina and my dad would say you were family. Not to mention my mom, if she were still here. And they’d all three wring my neck if they thought I’d left you to swing in the breeze. So deal with it.”

She almost smiled. “Is there another option?”

“No.” He started to leave, turned back. “Abby should be up soon, the dog’s already been out and everything’s fair game in the kitchen. I’ll be back by two, but if you need anything—”

“Yeah, yeah, got it. Thanks.”

He gave her a long, disquieting look, then huffed out a breath. “Just so you know? I’m not entirely unconflicted about this. Like you said, I’ve only got your side of the story. That said, I’ve worked my fair share of domestic abuse cases, saw more times than I can count women who didn’t follow their instincts, who either didn’t see or didn’t want to see the warning signs. Or were too scared to act on them. So if what you’re saying is true...then what you’re doing? Takes balls.”

With that, he finally left. Only somehow his presence remained, all that ubermacho protective energy vibrating around her. Through her. And she thought, This is bad.

Because what she had brewing here was a perfect storm of overwrought, celibate woman colliding with honorable hunk...to whom, alas, Kelly wasn’t less attracted than she had been in days of yore.

So, yeah. Hell.

By rights, she should have felt more safe, more secure, that Matt took his protective role so seriously, his justified ambivalence notwithstanding. He’d keep her babies safe, and that was all that mattered. And God knew it would be so easy to simply...let go, let someone else do the thinking, the planning, the worrying.

Except leaning on men—her father, then Rick... She’d done that her entire life. Until that support got ripped away and she’d nearly drowned in her own insecurities.

A ragged breath left Kelly’s mouth as she squatted to dig clean clothes out of the jumbled mess inside her suitcase. She wasn’t stupid. And heaven knew if pride had been an issue she wouldn’t even be here. But there was a fine line between knowing when to ask for help and expecting other people to fix your problems for you. Having barely figured out the difference, for damn sure she wasn’t about to slip back into old habits. Not just for her sake, but especially for her children’s.

Meaning as much as the old Kelly ached to let Matt be Matt, the new one didn’t dare.

* * *

Showered and dressed in at least a clean variation of what she’d worn the day before, Kelly checked on her still-sleeping children before following the heady aroma of brewing coffee to the kitchen. By now the sun had hauled its butt up over the horizon, blasting the space with light and making the countertops glisten more than the patchy snow outside. Matt, bless his heart, had made enough coffee for half the town, and Kelly gratefully filled the huge mug sitting by the maker.

She took that first, glorious sip and sighed. Amazing, what a shower, sunshine and a shot of caffeine could do to brighten one’s mood. Or at least make one feel...hopeful. What tomorrow—shoot, the next hour—would bring, she had no idea. But right now things were better than they had been last night. And that she could work with.

The Newfie clicked over to the French doors, parked her big old nose against one of the panes and rolled back one eye. “No,” Kelly said, and, with a heavy sigh, the dog lumbered off to plop down in a pool of sunlight. Wow. If only the kids were that easy to wrangle.

Inside her jeans’ pocket, her phone vibrated in tandem with her mother-in-law’s ringtone, and the hopefulness wavered.

“Hi, Lynn,” she said softly, searching for something, anything, the kids would eat, since her cooking skills were totally lost on them.

“You really took the kids away?”

Lucky Charms! Yes! “I really did.”

“Far?”

“Far enough. Doubt Rick and I will run into each other in the supermarket.” An unlikely possibility, in any case, since Rick hadn’t seen the inside of a grocery store in decades. She unearthed a pair of plastic bowls from the cupboard, set them on the counter.

“Why now?”

Kelly leaned against the counter, her heart hammering as she squinted into the sun pouring into the formal dining room through two sets of French doors. Since the last thing Kelly wanted to do was add to Lynn’s pain, she’d refused to gripe to the woman about her son, either before or after the divorce. Now was no different. One day, maybe, she’d tell her...everything. But not this morning. So a little fudging was in order. “Because, for one thing, he keeps showing up drunk—”

“Showing up where? To your place?”

“Yes.”

“When the kids are there?”

“That would be his point, unfortunately. And when he’s drunk he’s...not a nice person And last night he called—really late—and he got pretty...belligerent. And I just felt we needed to get away. At least for a while.”

“Without telling Rick where you went?”

“Yes.”

A moment’s pause preceded Lynn’s quiet comment. “So what you’re saying is he’s getting worse.”

The despair in the older woman’s voice seared Kelly’s insides. “I’m so sorry, Lynn, I know this must feel like I’m punishing you, too—”

“And why should you be sorry? This isn’t your fault.”

Kelly swallowed, trying to ease the thickness in her throat. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”

“For God’s sake, sweetheart... I do have two eyes in my head. Okay, maybe I had a hard time at first, accepting the truth—what mother wants to believe her own son could turn into...” Kelly heard Lynn take a shaky breath, and tears welled in her own eyes. “Into s-somebody she doesn’t even recognize anymore. But I saw how hard you fought to keep your marriage together. And frankly, if it’d been me in the same situation? I don’t know if I could’ve held out as long as you did.”

Her former mother-in-law’s kindness nearly did her in. And only further muddled the whole sordid mess.

“Thank you,” Kelly whispered, and Lynn made a sound that was half laugh, half sigh.

“For what?”

“Being...you.”

That got a snort. “Like I’m going to be somebody else? So maybe this’ll be the kick in the pants Ricky needs. Maybe one day—soon, God willing—he’ll pull his head out of his butt and see what he’s doing, get back on track. And who knows? Maybe the two of you could work things out—”

“Lynn. Please...don’t.”

Another sigh. “I know. It’s just... I want you to be happy, sweetheart. For all of us to be happy again. Like we used to be. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”

Finally, Kelly picked up the box of cereal, started to pour it into the bowls. “Not a bad thing at all. And I won’t keep the kids from you, I promise—”

“Hey. That’s mine.”

At the young woman’s Jersey-tough voice, Kelly dropped the box, sending little marshmallow and sugary oat bits skittering across the kitchen floor and the dog into a feeding frenzy. Wresting the box from underneath the Newfie’s elephant-size paw, she heard Lynn say, “Okay, I gotta get going. But you call me anytime, okay? I love you, baby—”

The person attached to the voice clomped across the floor, snatched the box off the counter. Glowered at Kelly. Who pointed to her phone, then said into it, “I love you, too, Lynn.”

“I know, honey. I know.”

Her chest aching, Kelly disconnected the call and slipped her phone into her pocket, then faced the wiry little blonde in jeans, hoodie and a scraped-back ponytail who probably didn’t weigh as much as Coop. Without makeup, she looked about twelve. And yet, as Kelly watched Abby dump cereal into a bowl and clomp back toward the island—in a pair of the ugliest work boots on God’s green earth—she decided in a barroom brawl, her money was on the pipsqueak.

“Abby?” she said, even though Kelly would have known her anywhere, she looked exactly like her mother. If leaner and meaner.

“That’s me, yep.” The bowl set, Matt’s sister veered back toward the coffeemaker, only to glare at the mug in Kelly’s hand. Oops.

“Matt told me to help myself to anything, I didn’t realize the cereal was yours—”

“And the mug.”

“O-kay! Here, I’ll find something else—”

“Fuggedaboutit.” Twisting her ponytail in her hand, Abby slammed open a cupboard door, grabbed another mug. Banged the door shut hard enough to make things rattle. Opened the fridge, grabbed milk, slammed that door, too.

“Um... I take it you’re not a morning person—?”

One hand shot up, cutting her off. The other poured her coffee, lifted the mug to her mouth. Two, three sips later, Abby let her head loll back, her eyes drift shut. She opened them again, took another swallow then sighed.

“Sorry. I’m a bear before my coffee.”

“I can relate. I’m Kelly, by the way.”

“Yeah. Matt texted me, told me you and your kids were here.” She made a face. “That I should be nice.” Abby turned, smushing her skinny little butt against the edge of the counter. “Like that’s even an issue, I’m always nice.”

Kelly smiled. “So you don’t remember me?” At the young woman’s head shake, Kelly said, “Your sister and I were best friends. I remember when you were born. In fact, I used to change your stinky diapers.”

She took another swallow. “Gross.”

“It’s okay, you were so cute we didn’t mind.”

Snorting, Abby carted her mug back to the island, climbed onto a stool and poured milk over her cereal. Shoveled in a bite. Something felt slightly off, but Kelly couldn’t quite put her finger on what. That Abby sounded and acted a little young for her age, maybe? Then again, did Kelly even remember what twenty-two sounded like anymore?

“I do sorta remember you,” Abby said, a smile finally appearing as she chewed. “You and Bree used to let me watch stuff Mom and Daddy would’ve had a fit about if they’d known.”

“Did we scar you for life?”

For a moment, a shadow dimmed the smile. “No,” Abby said quietly, then dispatched another bite of cereal. Chewing slowly, the blonde sat back, arms folded over her flat chest, her gaze questioning and astute, and Kelly instantly recognized the childish act for what it was—an act. Girl was sharp as a tack. Sharp enough, most likely, to see through any truth dodging on Kelly’s part. Especially when she asked, “So why are you here? I mean, when’s the last time you saw any of us?”

“It’s been a while. But I’m still in touch with Sabrina. Sort of.”

“Who doesn’t live here. Which I assume you know.”

Kelly blew out a breath, then refilled her coffee mug. Obviously Matt’s text hadn’t been elucidating. “Just needed a break, that’s all.”

“From?”

Her shoulders bumped. “Life,” she said, and Abby’s eyes narrowed. Exactly like Matt’s—a thought that brought on a brief, though piquant, shudder—even though they weren’t related by blood. Except then, with a shrug, Abby slanted forward again to resume eating.

“Hey, I don’t know you, got no reason to get up in your business.” She swallowed, then shrugged. “Matt’s another story, though, being a cop and all. Although I’m not sure how beholden to the badge he is at the moment, since he’s on leave.”

Kelly frowned. “On leave?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly a secret, I’m surprised he didn’t say anything. Something about accumulated vacation time? Since he apparently worked some ridiculous hours after his divorce. Wait—did you know—?”

“Yes. Sabrina told me.”

Abby nodded. “None of us liked Marcia very much. She was way too la-di-da for this family, that was for sure. But when things fell apart, so did Matt. Not in a dramatic way, I don’t mean that—this is Matt we’re talking about. But he kinda went all pod-person on us. Looked like Matt, sounded like Matt, but the real Matt wasn’t home.” She chuckled. “At work, yeah. But not at home. Anyway...if he didn’t take his days, he was going to lose them. Or so he said. So he’s around a lot, working on his house, bugging me. Big brothers are hell. You got any?”

Wow. Nothing like a little caffeine and carbs to ignite the jabberfest. “No, I’m an only child.”

“Count your blessings. So were you and Matt close? When you were kids?”

“Not really, no.” Even if not by Kelly’s choice. A nugget of personal info she’d keep to herself. “He did his own thing, Sabrina and I did ours.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Still, you should see Matt’s place while you’re here. He’s put in some reclaimed stuff from the shop—the mantel is the bomb, from some nineteenth-century farmhouse.”

Nope, not even penciling in that little field trip. Because, you know. Frying pans, fire, yada, yada.

Then two yawning children wandered into the kitchen, seeking hugs and nourishment. This I can do, Kelly thought as she set their filled bowls on the island and heaved her wild-haired daughter up onto a stool. And Abby immediately sucked Coop into a conversation, exactly as Jeanne would have done, and the ache in Kelly’s chest eased a little more.

Because, for the moment, it was good to be back. To feel safe again.

Only then she thought of Matt. His eyes. His smile. His...everything. But especially his I-got-this attitude.

And that feeling-safe thing?

Gone.