I Run to You (8 page)

~*~

Coy was still staring ahead—as if Brook’s
image would reappear in that spot, instead of the blur of family
who passed by.

He’d quit the backyard game, and had Max take
his place, because his knee was still healing inside. He could feel
the strain on the tendons.

He wondered how long she had stood there.

He wondered—if people could see his legs were
shaking.

He finally turned and half leaned against the
house, his leather athletic shoes digging into the grass. After
peeling up the T-shirt, using the hem to wipe his face, he rubbed
the cold sweat from the bottle over his brow.

Shit. Shit. He arched his chin, finished the
drink, and tossed the plastic in a bin at the corner of the yard.
Hands falling lax, his head slightly back, and pressing on the
cedar planks, he let loose a string of curses that did nothing to
help his chaotic insides.

Why was it, that pictures were different?
They were flat and un-animated. In the flesh, in the rays of
sunset…Brook Logan took his breath away as quickly as she had the
first time he had laid eyes on her.

No—not true. The woman, the twenty-four year
old woman—with that classic face and sexy short russet and gold
hair— In simple jeans, in a lavender shirt, she should not have
looked classy, sleek. That graceful neck, that way she held
herself…. Those damned violet eyes.

Coy ran his tongue over his lip, nostrils
flaring as he tried to relax his tense body. All the lies he had
told himself over the years came back to mock him…. That he hadn’t
lain for hours replaying every conversation, every touch and, kiss,
they had shared. That he had not paced the hotel balcony in some
nameless city, wondering if she had met the perfect man—make love
with him. That he hadn’t looked through Madeline’s stack of
pictures—or stood in the great room of Max’s house, staring up at
the blow up image of her—one Max had taken in California, and ached
so badly he’d felt queasy

It was one taken outside an upscale
restaurant, after the journalism awards. She had been dressed in a
black gown that covered her slender curves, yet left shoulders and
arms exposed— some flowing thing that had pressed against her
thighs and hips from a balmy breeze. Her hair had been styled back,
side parted, her make up a little darker, smoky— glistening and
lips slick with cranberry lipstick. Details he recalled, a tiny
diamond ring, and bracelet, earrings. The pose revealed the natural
grace so innate to her, simply standing by a pillar and
palm—looking at Max, with a hint of smile.

Coy cussed again and headed around back,
waving to those who asked him if he was okay. He commandeered a
pack of cigarettes and lighter he saw laying with his cousin Roy’s
ball cap and shirt, then walked around to the picnic table in the
shade.

He could see her car perfectly. Be right
here, when she left.

Lighting the cigarette, he sat on the bench,
leaned back against the table edge, legs out, ankles crossed, while
he inhaled. His mind was sifting, drifting, with no order to the
long ago memories of them kissing, his fingers on her soft stomach,
or his mouth on her virginal rose nipples.

Four drags later, he shook that off because
he was getting aroused.

He flashed to an image of himself; the first
time he had let one of the girl-groupies that followed the team
into his hotel room. The detached image of him fucking her, and
letting her back out the door— without even asking her name—or
caring too. He didn’t do that again. It just left him—empty.

That had been his whole problem, his whole
post puberty life. He had fucked women since Jr High School, and
knew even before he had screwed everything up— it was like
yesterday’s snack, there, gone, easily forgotten.

Coy was down to the last few drags when she
came into view.

He tensed all over again, his eyes too
hungrily going over her. He expected, had waited, but what he did
not count on was seeing his son jog up to her side.

Crushing out the smoke, he half sat up, able
to hear as Levi caught up and offered, “I’ll walk you to your
car.”

Every protective instinct he had was going
haywire. Not breathing right, blood pounding in his head, Coy’s
senses were on high alert, ready to spring forward if there so much
of a hint of rejection from her. His earlier thoughts were replaced
by his love for Levi.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Brook had
paused. He could see by her profile she smiled.

Trembling worse than before, he fought to
uncoil the muscles and slow the pound of his heart. Shit, it wasn’t
even voice that came out with that curse, but air, tense air.

Calm down. It’s all good.

Coy watched them stroll to her car. Of
course, Levi was chattering away. She appeared to be answering
back. When she reached the car, putting some covered plates
Madeline likely pressed on her, in first. She straightened,
standing by the open door, more facing him, as Levi was obviously
still talking.

He sensed the moment she pierced the shade
and saw him.

He actually felt it.

Coy stood but lit another cigarette. Under
his lashes, he observed her posture and movements were now
tense.

Levi, God bless him, he turned and spotted
Coy. As Coy blew smoke out his nose, he knew with a sinking gut,
his boy was now pointing and talking about him to Brook.

His instincts now calmed, he became aware
from all the blood rushing and receding, of the sun setting fully.
He could see fine enough to know Levi was going to make the big
mistake—come running up there—to tell him to come down and talk to
her. Because his son was a Coburn, and they were like that. All
Levi knew was that everyone was glad Brook was home and they were
all kin,

It happened almost before his thoughts
stopped. Coy knew, as any fool did, she had probably tried
everything to assure Levi they knew each other and it was
unnecessary.

“Hey. Dad. Come down and say hey to Brook,
before she leaves.”

There was no point in saying anything. He put
out the cigarette and was a step behind Levi as the boy sauntered
back down the slope.

The kid glanced between them when he stopped;
paying a lot of attention, though it was innocent enough.

“Welcome home, Brook,” he offered. Their eyes
locked and his voice sounding rough, low, to his ears.

“Thank you.” She gave him enough time to feel
a familiar ache looking into those violet eyes, before she glanced
at Levi.

His son was saying something about him being
on TV, playing ball, the usual stuff a proud kid says. Coy heard
her answer that she knew that, and wasn’t it cool?

He tried to look casual taking a step and
laying a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “Don’t talk her ear off, son.
She’s had long day.”

“I wasn’t. Was I?” His son frowned and looked
at Brook.

“Not at all. I enjoyed it. But I really do
have to go. I’ll be back often, and we’ll see each other.”

“Yeah. You’re family again.” Levi grinned and
looked at Coy. “She’s pretty. Ain’t she, dad. Aunt Madeline’s
daughter. She’s Max’s sister too.”

“Very.” Coy felt his throat flex and looked
from his son, who stepped away, to Brook.

Her face was tense, cold almost.

Levi said another goodbye and took off—
leaving Coy standing there. He figured there were eyes from the
porch, the yard, probably the damn windows, on them. Her glance
flickered that way before she moved, got in the car, and closed the
door. The window was still down.

What the hell. Coy stepped up and braced a
hand on the top, leaning down and saying while she put the key in
and turned it, “I’m sorry.”

Her profile was chilly. “He’s a great kid.
Beautiful. Perfect.”

Gruff and soft, he supplied, “I’m not sorry
for him, Brook. I’m sorry for— the betrayal that made him.”

Brook flickered a glance at him, the engine
running. “Great. Fine. We are all past it. Now I have to go.”

The tight, cold words, her darker eyes,
should have warned him. Nevertheless, Coy had to add, “If you’ve
reached the age you have, without a moment you’d take back—you’re
damned lucky.”

Her voice was quiet almost silken when she
captured his gaze and uttered, “Fuck you. Coy.”

He stared at her, knowing she had waited
years to say that. She deserved to say it. “I’m sorry. I deserve
that.”

She was holding the wheel with both hands,
and turned to look forward. Her tone tighter now, after taking a
deep breath and letting it out, she voiced, “It’s history. Erased.
We are all grown-ups now. There is nothing more to say about it. In
fact, I’ll accept your apology—so you’ll realize I’ve no intention
of listening to it again.”

“All right.” Coy said it, but he would always
feel that gut burning need to undo everything, for her sake.
Because—she had been wonderful to him, more than he deserved, and
he had been a bastard of the worst kind. “I was a stupid asinine
kid, with no self-control. It had nothing to do with you. You were
too good for me—.”

“Just—don’t,” she grit.

“You were more mature in some ways than me,
then Brook. You made a difference in my life, but I’m the dumb ass
who threw it away.”

“Shut up.”

“I am. I will.”

He saw her hand reaching for the shift. He
murmured before standing, stepping away though, “With you, I would
have made love for the first time. The only thing I had known was
sex for the sake of it. I regret how I destroyed your faith in me,
in what we had. And I regret— for myself—that I never got to
experience that either.”

He stepped back, seeing through the window
that her face was flushed, her hand not steady as she tried to
shift to reverse.

“I love you, Brook. I always will.”

Her head whipped in his direction, her eyes a
deep, aching, violet. “You sonofabitch,” she whispered. “You
self-indulgent, sonofabitch.”

She turned and in seconds was backing
out.

The little VW slid as she U turned on the two
lane. Gears were grinding when she floored it, heading down the
road.

Coy turned. It was sundown now—but light
enough to see Madeline standing a few feet from him.

“You heard?” He walked slowly up to meet
her.

“Yes.” Her eyes, so like Brook’s, searched
his face. “You and I have come to an understanding.” She reached
out and touched his arm. “I do understand youthful mistakes.
Screwing up our best chances. I didn’t say anything, the things I
wanted to say—years ago, for Brook’s sake, I didn’t beat the shit
out of you— for tearing her apart like you did.”

Coy rasped, “I’m sorry, Madeline.”

“I know.” She sighed heavily and dropped her
hand.

Arms folded around her middle, she supplied,
“But for Brook’s sake this time, I’m going to say this, whether
she’d want me to or not. Let her live her life, and love whomever
she will, Coy. I want her home. I want my daughter here. Among all
of us. I am selfish, completely selfish, about it. Don’t do
anything that will keep Brook from building the life, having the
kinds of experiences, any grown woman her age should.”

Coy nodded. He could not challenge that. He
had no right to.

Madeline turned and they walked toward the
steps together.

Mitch was there. He drew Madeline down to sit
between his spread knees. He handed her a mug of coffee, then
looked at Coy, who stood watching them. People were leaving,
walking around them, but Coy had not felt anyone else really, since
he had seen Brook.

Mitch’s arms were loose around Madeline. It
was a protective, his lovers, relaxed way of surrounding her. His
light eyes on Coy, he murmured, “You’re not a stupid man, Coy. You
know that Rafael has a thing for her. He has waited for her to come
home. He had something for her even when you had your shot.
Therefore, the only thing I am going to say is—he deserves it. I
don’t know Brook’s private life. It is none of my business. But
whomever she dates, seriously or not, she’s a sophisticated woman
who is going to be with them—because she wants to be—and the rest
can go to hell.”

Coy caught a small smile on Madeline’s lips
as she took a sip from her mug.

He arched his brow and looked at his Uncle.
“She just said; fuck you, to my apologies. You think I don’t know
she’s not her own woman?”

Under his uncles laugh Coy grunted before
heading around them up the steps. “I’m on easy terms with Rafe
Martinez, but that don’t mean I’m going to give him my
blessing.”

“I wouldn’t think so. “ He heard Mitch mutter
when he was a step ahead.

Coy’s last word on it was, “Coburns give up
when they’re dead. Not before.”

Chapter 4

Brook had planned to call Sunny Monday
evening. As it happened, she ran into him in town. He invited her
to lunch at Rafael’s. Rafe was not in that day. Sunny said Rafe
bought a house two years ago, and was still renovating on his time
off.

Brook parked her own vehicle and settled in
the passenger side of Sunny’s beautiful Lincoln town car. While he
drove, she eyed his raven hair, combed back as usual and in a tight
braid that fell to mid back. The blue-black stuff was shiny even on
an overcast day.

Still big, handsome, with broad shoulders,
and distinct Native American features—more so than the French blood
he’d gotten from his Dupree side— he had on a deep red western
shirt, and jeans, his comfortable cowboy boots.

“They let you dress that casual in the DA’s
office?” She joked, having on a black skirt and purple silk tank
herself, with flat sandals.

He glanced at her and winked one of those
beautiful brown eyes. “I’m officially a liaison, so I’m in and out.
But yeah, unless I’m in a court room or doing the social rounds,
nobody better tell me how to dress.”