Hard Silence (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“He said he’d meet us by the taxi stand.” Evan craned his neck around the passengers milling in front them. “Do you see it?”

Abby shrugged her bag onto her shoulder as Evan dragged her through baggage claim at O’Hare. Sweat slicked her skin—the cold sweat that preceded nausea—and dread slowed her steps. The feelings had been her constant companion all day, through flights, layovers, turbulence and crowds. But now it was so much worse. Because Jeff had said he’d meet
Evan
at the taxi stand. He didn’t know there was an
us
coming.

She spotted the sign just as Evan slipped from her grasp.

“Jeff!”

Rather than intruding, Abby lifted her camera, capturing the reunion and drinking in the sight of the man in her frame. Jeff’s smile was as broad as Evan’s. In a Cubs cap, a rain slicker, jeans and sneakers, he looked like a college jock instead of a professor. Through the lens, she watched the moment he spotted her, saw confusion give way to shock. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, he darted his tongue across his bottom lip and braced his hands on his knees. And she resisted the urge to run to him and knock him to the floor, to cling to him and beg until he forgave her. Because he would, and she’d vowed every five minutes all morning that she wasn’t going to do that to him. Not unless he asked her to.

He walked to her and stopped just out of reach. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She could do this. She’d practiced it. “I won’t. Intrude. I’ll get a. Hotel. And meet you on. Sunday.” She swallowed the words she wanted to say.
I’m sorry. I love you. Please come home.

“Okay,” he said as he slid his fingers between the luggage strap and her shirt. “At least take the taxi with us.”

Sparks cascaded under her skin, opening wounds she’d thought were scabbed over. They’d itched every day while she lived without him in the house on the hill, eavesdropped on Skype conversations, and worked in his office. And she finally admitted that this trip was a way to scratch them, to see if they still bled. After all, sometimes you scratched and the old tissue just flaked off.

She should have known better. Under Jeff’s wary gaze, she felt like she was hemorrhaging internally.

“How was your flight?” he asked as they walked to the door.

Evan answered for her. “It was cool. A lot of the time we couldn’t see the ground, and it looked like snow. But then it started to storm, and the plane jumped and bounced. Mom was scared, but I took care of her.”

“Good man.” Jeff held the door for her, and she risked a deep breath just for the familiar smell. She shouldn’t have, because then she wanted to burrow into his jacket and never let go. Somehow she kept walking to the curb, where she climbed into the waiting cab and put Evan next to her, using him as a shield. He stayed there for all of two minutes before he scrambled over Jeff and climbed to the window, craning his neck. “Gosh, look at all these cars. Have you ever seen so many people? We flew over the lake. There have to be some great big fish in there. Did you rent a boat? Do you know what’s in all these buildings?”

“Seat belt, Ev.”

“Mind your mom.” Jeff scooted closer to her and put his arm across the back of the seat. His warmth threatened to erode all of her convictions, especially when his breath tickled her ear. “I wish I’d known you were coming. I would’ve planned differently.”

She’d been afraid to tell him, afraid he’d say no. “I won’t hover. Gray gave me a list of places to see.”

His hand closed around her shoulder. “Are you going to look at me at all?”

It seemed like she’d done nothing but stare at him. She tilted her head and looked into his mossy green eyes. “There was a. Two-hour. Layover. In Den-Denver.” Inhaling deeply, she plowed forward on the exhale. “Can you imagine
Evan
alone for two hours?”

His smile was brighter than she’d remembered. How was that possible? “The terminal would never be the same. We’re stopping by the lab first. Would you like to see it?”

She should just stay in the cab and keep going to a hotel. Gray had given her the name of the one closest to Jeff’s building. This was the perfect place for their weekends to diverge, for her to make good on her promise not to hover. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Hey, Jeff!” Evan tugged on his sleeve. “What are they building over there?”

He looked out the window. “I don’t know. What do you think it is?”

“A heliport. We saw one of those on a movie last week. Remember, Mom? Don’t you think it looks like a heliport?”

She leaned across Jeff to look out the window at the sea of concrete, glass and asphalt, swimming with people and vehicles. The building concerning Evan zipped by in a blur. “Maybe.”

“And that one there.” Evan pointed at something else. “That looks like the building from
Mission Impossible.
Do you think it is?”
He kept asking questions until Abby became more interested in sightseeing than staying on her side of the car. Then Jeff’s hand slipped to her hip, and she forgot about Chicago entirely. He was strong and whole, and his heartbeat drowned out Evan’s monologue. She let herself listen to the strong, rhythmic thud, remembering all the times she’d curled against him while he slept and vowed to do whatever it took to keep him safe. And she had. Even if she was empty for the rest of her life, he’d be free.

“Abby?”

The question rumbled against her ear, and she realized she’d gotten too close, stayed too long. He was tense against her, as though he was afraid of her and unsure of how to untangle himself. Embarrassment heated her skin even as tears burned her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said as she straightened and moved back to her side of the car.

He looked like she’d hit him. “Abby—”

“We’re here, sir,” the cabbie said.

Letting Evan monopolize Jeff’s attention, she stayed quiet and apart from him through the metal detector and into the elevator. When the doors opened to a room full of equipment, long tables, and white-coated staff, Jeff stopped them next to a row of lockers. He stowed their bags and retrieved two lab coats. He gave the smallest one to Evan. “This is for you to wear so we know you work here. And it keeps stuff on your clothes from contaminating evidence.”

He helped her into a coat and straightened the lapels. When he stayed close and kept his hands on her shoulders, she looked up into his uncertain gaze.

“Abby—”

“What’s this do?” Evan called from the middle of the room, interrupting him.

Jeff left her to continue the tour, and Abby tagged along as he talked about every machine and introduced each technician. She gave up on the science and watched Jeff work. For the first time today, he relaxed. He was
her
Jeff—laughing, teasing, listening to Evan’s questions and answering them without talking down to the little boy. She knew firsthand how good he was at what he did, what it meant to him, and now she got to see what he meant to his staff. This was where he belonged, and he’d stayed gone far too long. Because of her. Letting him go had been best.

“Is this the famous Evan?” a happy voice sang. It belonged to an equally happy, pretty woman in a lab coat and glasses who put her hand on Jeff’s shoulder a second before she put her arm around him. “And you must be Abby.” She extended her hand. “I’m Trish Phillips, Jeff’s assistant director. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jeff had told her about Trish, the woman he trusted more than anyone on his team. He’d said she was a smart, funny, capable partner. He hadn’t mentioned that she was pretty.

Trish stooped to Evan’s level. “I’ve worked up an experiment just for you. Wanna come play?”

Evan looked up at her. “You’re coming too, aren’t you, Mom?”

She wanted to run the other direction, away from this perfect woman Jeff spent so much time with, but Evan suddenly looked frightened. She knew how he felt. “You go play. I’ll be right here where you can see me.”

For the rest of the afternoon, she sat on a stool and watched Jeff and Trish tease and laugh with each other. He didn’t look at her like she was going to fall apart or like he wanted to run away. They shared a passion.

Abby made herself smile at the young woman who approached, made herself join a conversation rather than run the other way. This was the downside of her ambush—coming here and seeing him, answering the
what if
questions that kept her up late and woke her early. In those dawn hours, she’d promised that she’d be brave enough to tell him how she felt and see what happened. But now she didn’t need to do that. This is what had happened. She’d found her bravery too late. He’d moved on like she’d hoped he would, like she dreaded he had.

So she smiled at another technician, shook another hand, and ignored the man in the corner, living happily-ever-after without her.

* * *

He wanted to kiss her so badly his tongue hurt, and he could still feel her head against his chest, her hip under his hand, smell her hair. But now she was firmly on her side of the car, staring out her window so all he could see was her crooked ponytail. Was she really just here to escort Evan?

“Did you not like the lab?” he whispered. “Did someone say something?”

She shook her head. “It’s easy to see why you like it there, and Evan had fun. It was nice of Trish to include him.”

Jeff couldn’t even remember what experiment Trish had done with Evan. All he’d been able to think about was Abby across the room, talking to his team. He’d wanted to pull her away from everyone, lock his office door, and kiss her until she let him come home.

When they coasted to a stop, Evan scrambled from the taxi. He tilted his head back and turned in a circle until he lost his balance, a goofy grin on his face. Jeff remembered feeling that way when he’d first moved here. Now he rarely looked up.

“Ev. Get your bag,” Jeff said as he helped Abby to the sidewalk. He took Abby’s luggage and slung it over his shoulder. He’d keep it with him if he had to sleep curled around it. She wouldn’t go anywhere without her camera.

Once inside, he toured them through the lobby before walking for the elevator. The mirrored walls let him glimpse his patchwork family. Abby surreptitiously shared Evan’s curiosity about the surroundings. That was good, wasn’t it?

He lifted Evan to the panel. “Push the one that has twenty-six on it.”

They emerged onto his floor, and Evan ran into the hallway, only to turn back in confusion. “Where’s your sofa?”

Laughter bubbled free. “In my apartment, dude. This way.”

He opened the door, and stood aside. Evan walked in and looked around. “I thought it would be bigger.”

“Evan!” Abby scolded.

“I know it’s not as big as your house, but I don’t spend a lot of time here. I’m at work most of the time. You’ve got your own room though. Wanna see it?”

Keeping a tight grip on Abby’s bag, Jeff gave Evan a tour—including battling the wind and rain on the patio so they could see the traffic crawling like ants on the street below. They returned to the living room, where Abby was looking at his bookshelf.

God, he loved seeing her here. The walls didn’t seem so close, or the shadows so dark.

“You have a PlayStation!” Evan said. “Can we play?”

“After you unpack.”

When Evan ran off, Abby turned to him and reached for her stuff. Jeff shifted away from her. “Stay. You can have the bedroom. I’ll take the sofa. It folds out.” She dropped her hand, but she shook her head. The lonely, lost look in her eyes reminded him of that first spring morning when she’d surprised him in his yard. He looked like that every morning now when he stared into the mirror.

If he had to fight dirty, he would. “Do you really want to be alone in a strange city?”

A silent war raged across her face, down through her shoulders to her fingers. “I’ll take the sofa.”

He wanted to smell her perfume on his sheets, but he’d compromise. He surrendered her bag as Evan came back into the room. “Great.”

Sprawled on the floor, he and Evan started a game of video baseball. Jeff missed too many important plays by looking over his shoulder to watch Abby on his sofa, Abby reading a book, Abby in the kitchen.

“You’re not even swinging,” Evan scolded. “I’m gonna win because you keep staring at Mom.”

Heat burned his ears as he focused on the television. “Demon child.”

“Devil Dad,” Evan giggled.

Jeff blinked, staring at the red hair muted to bronze by the cloudy day.

They began another game. Trash-talking devolved into distractions, nudging became tickling—which turned into wrestling until bacon smells made their stomachs growl.

“All right, you hooligans. Come to dinner.”

Evan leapt to his feet. “Great. Winning makes me hungry.”

“Careful there, son. I won’t bait your hook on Saturday.”

Son
. Warmth spread under his skin. It doubled when he joined Abby in the kitchen. While she danced between stove and sink, he pulled dishes from the cabinets and handed them to Evan. It was the routine they’d followed so many nights during the summer. “You didn’t have to cook. We could’ve ordered in.” He picked up the salad bowl and carried it to the table. “But I’m glad you’ve made yourself at home.”

Evan wriggled in his chair as he chewed on his BLT. “So what are we gonna do this weekend?”

“Tomorrow we’re going to the Field Museum to see their dinosaurs. And we’re going to a Cubs game on Friday, and fishing on Saturday. Other than that we can do whatever you want. Or whatever Abby wants.”

If he’d known she was coming he would have planned something for her,
with
her. Just the two of them. He had a list as long as his arm of places he wanted to show her.

“Okay. Did Mom tell you we had to go see the judge?”

“No.” Jeff drawled out the word as he looked at her. She stayed focused on her salad.

“It wasn’t anything bad,” Evan explained. “Andy was there too.”

“Your dad?”

“He’s not my dad no more. The judge told him he couldn’t be since he tried to kill me.”

“Are you all right with that?”

“Uh-huh. We had our first basketball practice last week...”

Evan told stories about Fiddler through the rest of dinner and then while they did dishes, and then until Jeff tucked him in. Listening helped distract Jeff from the water singing through the pipes as Abby showered.