Broken Angels (3 page)

“Aren’t you going to turn that thing off?” Noah’s question cut through the cloud of smoke enveloping them.

“It’ll stop on its own in a few seconds.” Zach barely recognized his own voice. It was gravelly, flat and resigned.

A sharp snort punctured the air. “Loser.” The smoke dissipated a tad, and Zach caught sight of Noah bending over. The insolent child swiped the monkey, then took off at a run.

“Noah,” his sister bellowed. “Give it back! I want it!”

Zach pitched aside the towel and went in search of another window he could pry open. A bitter taste spread through his mouth. He was messing this up, big-time. His eldest nephew didn’t respect him, his niece didn’t know what to make of him and the baby cried like a banshee whenever he got within three feet of him.

He tried the window by the fridge, managed to crank it open a notch, and a warm gush of fresh air trickled in.

Will’s cries settled into a miserable whimper interspersed with hiccups. Noah and Kristen raced up the stairs, stomping and arguing the whole way.

Zach leaned on the sill and let the clean air fill his lungs. Maybe Becca was right. He couldn’t do this alone, no matter how badly he wanted to. The plan—her plan—was for her to move in next week, after she took care of a few things.

He still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. How could they possibly live together given their history? They’d tear each other apart, or worse, end up in bed together.

That couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it. He’d rather take his chances with the three sugar-smiled devils than risk going down that old road again.

She hated him now. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her icy tone, and that irrefutable truth stung like a bitch. She thought he’d abandoned her, that he hadn’t wanted her because she’d failed to bear him children. That was total bullshit. All he’d ever needed was her, but she’d been too busy beating herself up to see it.

If she ever realized he still wanted her, everything he’d accomplished by leaving her would be lost. She’d torture herself with impossible fantasies again, and he’d have to helplessly sit by and watch the woman he loved slowly tear herself apart. He’d be damned if he’d put her—or himself—through that again.

He had to call her and tell her the deal was off.

He never should have agreed in the first place. Not that it would have made a difference. When Becca had her mind set on something, she was like a runaway train. There was no stopping her. It was this single-minded focus that had cost them their marriage and nearly destroyed her.

The alarm stopped shrieking. Finally. He glanced over at a now unnaturally quiet Will. The boy watched him with an accusing glare that oozed disappointment.

“Sorry, buddy.” Zach reached for the phone. “Trust me. It’s for the best.” He’d dialed the first three numbers when the doorbell rang. “Probably one of the neighbors wondering if I’ve burnt the place to the ground yet.”

The baby furrowed his brows in a way that made Zach feel like the worst kind of fool. Unlike his older brother, Will couldn’t voice the word
loser
, but he didn’t have to. It was written all over his pudgy, tear-stained face.

Embarrassment saturated Zach’s bloodstream as he took in the war zone around him. “I’ll be surprised if they don’t report me.”

The doorbell rang a second time. Zach slanted another glance at Will. “Something tells me they’re not going away.”

Hiccup. Drool. Chest-heaving sigh.

The kid was no help whatsoever.

Zach bit the bullet and went to answer. Another earthquake struck the moment he swung the door open. The ground beneath his feet shifted. Something inside him cringed and rejoiced in one painful heartbeat.

Becca stood on the doorstep, looking shy and provocative as hell. Sunlight poured over her, a golden flood that made her hair shimmer like aged brandy. An odd prickle hopped along his spine. The wind blew, sent those wicked curls rioting around her face. His body stiffened in more ways than one.

Her eyes met his, distant, guarded. On either side of her, two large suitcases lay propped at her feet—both a threat and a tantalizing promise.

Chapter Three

Rebecca tried to smile but managed nothing more than a twitch of the lips. Her stomach wrung at the sight of Zach looking so harried. His dark hair was wild and mussed, as if he’d just crawled out of bed, but the tired lines around his eyes told her he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Long grooves carved deep trenches in his cheeks, giving him a tough, angular look. Alarm leapt across his face upon seeing her.

“Hi,” she managed to squeeze out.

“What are you doing here?”

His words crushed any compassion his disheveled appearance had triggered within her. “Great to see you, too.”

“Sorry.” He ran his palm over his face, inhaled slow and steady. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just wasn’t expecting you till next week.”

She forced a smile again and almost succeeded this time. Above her, a tall elm brushed the sky with green-tipped fingers. It shivered in the breeze, and from one of its bristly branches a song sparrow happily serenaded the warm summer day.

“I wrapped everything up early,” she explained. “Sent the article to the magazine this morning, so I’m all yours.” She winced at her choice of words.

Briefly his gaze met hers, dark and stormy. Something churned within them—pain, regret and a well of yearning so deep it turned her bones to dust. Then the shutters closed, and she convinced herself she’d imagined the whole thing.

Reluctantly, he moved aside to admit her, but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t want her here; that was as clear as the day was bright.

Ignoring the sharp stab of disappointment that skewered her, she bent to retrieve her suitcases. Zach had the same idea, and his fingers grazed hers, sending small electrical sparks ricocheting along her nerve endings. She looked up. His face was only inches from hers. Instant heat crawled through her veins. His gaze tangled up her insides until she had no choice but to jerk away.

She hastened into the townhouse and gladly left him to haul her bags in after her. The first thing that struck her was the smell. “Is something burning?”

“Not anymore,” came his clipped reply.

She scrunched her brows and took a few more tentative steps forward. Wispy threads of smoke curled overhead. Heaps of toys littered the floor. From the kitchen, a heartrending whimper punctuated the air, followed by a hiccup.

“What happened here?”

Zach dropped her bags in the hall and quickly latched the door. “Didn’t you hear the tornado warning?”

“Tornado warning?”

“Yeah, three to be exact. Two did most of the damage. The third—” he angled his head toward the kitchen, “—was in charge of sound effects.”

The ceiling above her head quaked, and angry howls shattered any illusion of tranquility this place might have at some time possessed. Seconds later, two scruffy-haired kids came barreling down the stairs, tugging and shoving each other the whole way.

“I told you two to cut it out,” Zach warned in that stiff tone she recognized all too well. He didn’t lose his patience often, but when he did, his voice grew strained, rough, like a taut rope just beginning to fray at the edges.

The kids ignored him and bulldozed their way into the living room, their small feet sending Lego pieces skittering across the weathered floor. They wrestled over a stuffed baboon. At least she thought it was a baboon.

For the first time since she’d known him Zach appeared lost, defeated. An aura of hopelessness encompassed him, and it tugged at her heartstrings despite herself.

He’d lost weight. He’d always been lean, but now he was nothing but muscle and bone. At six-foot-three he should have looked lanky, but he didn’t. His square shoulders, wide chest and sinewy arms gave him a swimmer’s build, though he wasn’t much of a swimmer. He’d nearly drowned when he was a kid, and even now he had an irrational aversion to water. He much preferred biking, hiking and running. Back in school he’d been the track and field champion. She’d never missed an opportunity to watch him run. Those long, muscular legs of his coated in a sheen of sweat, bulging and straining as he’d leapt across the track, had captivated her, left her dry-mouthed and tongue-tied.

Of course, she was three years younger than he, and back then he hadn’t spared her a glance. To him, she’d been nothing more than his little sister’s nerdy best friend. To her, he’d been the sun around which her whole world had revolved.

Everything has changed, and nothing.

Once again he couldn’t care less about her, and yet her heart still betrayed her with a painful series of thuds whenever he drew near.

Noah and Kristen vaulted over the couch, still playing tug-of-war with the baboon. The material sundered under the pressure, and the stuffed animal’s arm tore off, sending Kristen toppling backward. She landed on an end table, where a porcelain lamp sat. The lamp tottered, then crashed to the ground. Simultaneously, the baby let out a yowl loud enough to wake the dead.

“Look what you did!” Noah roared. “It’s all your fault.”

His sister’s bottom lip quivered as tears gathered in her clear blue eyes.

Rebecca had seen enough. Ignoring the knot of unease that twined in her gut, she cut through the mess to confront the kids. “What are you two doing? Look at this place.”

Two pairs of stunned eyes turned her way. “Aunt Becca,” Noah cried. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Obviously.” She picked up the severed arm of the toy.

“Can you fix it?” a thin voice whispered. “Mommy always sews our stuff when they tear.” Kristen’s dampened gaze sparkled like diamonds on snow. A tender ache coiled in Rebecca’s chest. Her fingers itched to stroke the girl’s sunny blond hair, to soothe her with a comforting touch or a bolstering hug, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her arm. It felt heavy, weighed down by the merciless sum of her regrets.

Instead, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

In the kitchen, Will’s howls escalated. With an oath, Zach stomped out of the living room. Moments later he returned with an inconsolable Will tucked in the crook of his arm. The baby kicked and screamed, gasping, a red flush staining his round cheeks.

Zach cooed and made funny faces, all the while trying to mask his panic and failing miserably. He looked so awkward, so terrified, she couldn’t help the amusement that tickled her throat. Before she knew it, she’d laughed out loud.

“What’s so darn funny?”

“You’ve got
the look
.”

He arched two puzzled brows. “The look?”

“Yeah,
the look
. The one you get whenever you’d rather chew on broken glass than do whatever it is you’re doing.”

Denial spiced with indignation sparked in his eyes. “I don’t have
the look
.
The kids and I are getting along just fine. Aren’t we, kids?”

Will stopped bawling, and a victorious smile bounced across Zach’s full mouth. His triumph, however, was short-lived. The baby nestled his face in Zach’s shoulder, then violently hurled all over him.

Horror soaked Zach’s features when he saw the long streak of white vomit trickling down the front of his black T-shirt. “Shit.”

Rebecca bit her lower lip to keep from laughing again. “No, puke.”

He watched her through narrowed slits, his expression downright murderous.

That was when it struck her. Zach Ryler didn’t want her, but maybe—just maybe—for once in his life he needed her. And that simple thought made this whole ordeal somewhat bearable.

It took several hours before some semblance of peace settled over the townhouse again. While Rebecca boiled a pot of spaghetti, Zach and the kids worked to tidy the place up. Everyone was then rewarded with a nice meal, some orange juice and a box of Oreos. After lunch Zach put Will down for his nap, and Kristen and Noah snuggled on the couch to watch their favorite cartoon,
Spongebob Squarepants
.

As Rebecca finished washing the dishes, Zach collapsed in a chair, propping his elbows on the kitchen table and supporting his head with the heel of his palms.

“You look exhausted.” She turned off the faucet and went to join him at the table. “Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll hold down the fort for a while.”

“I’m fine.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

He shrugged. “Couple of weeks ago. Can’t seem to drift off even when I try. Too many thoughts in my head.”

She understood. The mind could be a cruel, unforgiving thing, unwilling to grant you even a few hours of respite.

“I’m guessing you’re taking some time off work?” Throughout their marriage Zach had been obsessed with his career, often working seventy-hour weeks, but she couldn’t remember ever having seen him this weary.

“I had six weeks of vacation time saved up. I haven’t had much reason to use it these past two years.” He raised his head and their eyes locked. Something hot and gripping passed between them, laden with meaning. She could’ve sworn she caught a note of remorse in his voice, heightened by a trace of loneliness that perfectly matched her own.

She averted her gaze; she had to. “What are you going to do with your place in Beacon Hill?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Sublet it. It’s a nice area. I’m sure it won’t take me long to find another tenant.”

She glanced out the window at Union Park, where trees fluttered in the wind, fountains gushed amidst lush green grass and neat rows of Victorian townhouses stood framed by quaint brick streets. She thought of the higher-end Beacon Hill with its Federal-style rowhouses and its narrow, gas-lit sidewalks, only a stone’s throw from downtown Boston. “And you’ll be happy living in the South End?”

“Why not? It’s the kids’ home. They’re more comfortable here, despite what happened. Took them to my apartment for a few days while this place was being cleaned up. All they cared about was going back home.” He rubbed his temples as if to relieve some invisible weight. “Plus, this area has kinda grown on me. It’s metropolitan, close enough to downtown and still kid-friendly. Did you know there are eleven parks here?”

Her mouth curled despite herself. “Something tells me you’ve become acquainted with each and every one of them.”