My Way Back to You (Harlequin Large Print Super Romance) (11 page)

He swam for a while. But soon, his memory had turned to skinny-dipping with Mags two nights ago. Suddenly being in the pool alone wasn’t much fun, so he went inside to fix some lunch, settling for a can of soup.

The well-stocked wine cellar was impressive. He recognized some of the vintages as really expensive and rare. Maggie had told him Zeke was a wine snob. She’d made a wise choice hanging on to these bottles. Tonight, they would enjoy the perfect wine to go with whatever she brought home—and he would secretly gloat that he, rather than that bastard Zeke, was getting to share it with her.

Wandering around Russ’s room had been a bittersweet self-guided tour. His heart swelled with pride at the ribbons, certificates and trophies proudly displayed. But that same heart also ached because he hadn’t been there for the presentation of any of these awards.

Not even the diploma proudly displayed on the desk. That nicked his heart more than any of the rest.

A photo album lay beside the diploma—one of those professional-looking, hard-bound books made available to anyone these days with a computer and a little patience. Russ’s senior picture graced the front along with the words
Happy Graduation
at the top and
Love, Mom
at the bottom. The first page contained photos of his son as a newborn with his head full of black hair. Jeff’s breath caught and held at a photo of him and Mags holding their new baby boy. So young...so happy. So in love.

Where did the time go?

Russ turning one, his face covered in blue icing from his Cookie Monster cake. Jeff laughed aloud. His parents, the proud grandma and grandpa, were in this photo. Gosh, his mom and dad looked so young there. And Chloe, so beautiful as a young teenager—ten years before the MS started eating away at the nerve coverings in her body, confining her to a wheelchair, slurring her speech to the point few people other than he and his parents could understand her wants and needs.

He didn’t begrudge his dad’s early retirement to help Mom take care of Chloe in their own home. He didn’t begrudge having to step in and run the dealership and the pressure of making sure the profit could sustain the entire family.

But he did begrudge the damn disease that had limited how his sister could live her life when she should’ve had the freedom to soar.

And he begrudged all those times he’d wanted to spend more time with his son but keeping the family financially afloat had taken priority.

The next page showed Russ at two. The divorce hovered unseen in the background but was evident. No more pictures of him and Mags together. He moved on through page after page, year after year. No more pictures of him at all.

Eighteen years of his son’s life, and he was only present for the first four pages.

An anguished cry rose into his throat and seeped out of the corners of the mouth he tried to keep closed.

Oh, he had his own photos of Russ’s birthday parties—the ones they celebrated when he came to California, which were never actually on his birthday. Instead, most of them took place in August before he’d have to return to Kentucky to start the school year. But it wasn’t the same.

And it wasn’t the birthday photos that bothered him the most. It was Russ playing soccer, shooting a basket, giving it his all at Little League football, participating in the junior high spelling bee, eating ice-cream cones with his friends in the back of a pickup truck. Fishing with Zeke. Enjoying watermelon on Rosemary and Eli’s porch.

The everyday photos laid his heart wide-open, but he looked at them, anyway. Slowly he made his way through every page, memorizing the little details so he could pretend he’d been there, too.

By the time he got to the end, he felt drained. Maybe time for a nap? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d lain down in the middle of the afternoon.

He started down the steps when a light buzzing noise sounded. An alarm of some kind. Mags had mentioned an alarm that let her know when a car had turned into her driveway. She was home! He took the remainder of the steps two at a time, fully awake now and ready to welcome her.

Oh, hell!
The car that passed the window on its way to the back of the house wasn’t the one he’d been expecting—it was a red Scion FR-S.

He ducked into Maggie’s bedroom and peeked out the window as the car came to a stop.

A redhead emerged with huge white sunglasses and hair held back with a wide black band. She went straight for her trunk on legs so long they must’ve started at her armpits and were made even longer by the short shorts and high wedge sandals she wore. When she leaned over to retrieve the items from her trunk, her more-than-ample cleavage threatened to spill out of the formfitting top with the low, low, low neckline.

EmmyLou Creighton.
He recognized her from Maggie’s vivid descriptions of her best friend.

She straightened up with her arms full of bags.
Groceries?
It ran through his mind that she could just be acting as a thoughtful friend, stocking Maggie’s fridge with some items to tide her over. But she might also be planning on dinner.

Damn!
What should he do? Had she talked with Mags yet? Did she know he was here? She was a blabbermouth. He could tell that from the stories. Could he risk her knowing he was here before he was sure Maggie had told her parents? He sure as hell didn’t want them hearing it secondhand.

He patted his pockets, intending to text Mags and ask for guidance. Where was his freaking phone?

Damn it!
He’d left it by the pool.

Just to be on the safe side, he ducked into the closet Mags had shown him last night. If EmmyLou knew he was here, she would probably call out his name. And, if she didn’t know, he could wait here until Mags got home and either got rid of her or explained the situation.

He heard the back door open and close, so she knew the combination. She was singing—well, bellowing—a Katy Perry song at the top of her lungs, which made him doubt she knew he was there.

He flopped down in one of the chairs, irritated by the situation. Surely, Mags would be home soon.

With no phone and no books or magazines, the singing soon became his only source of entertainment, and even that quieted some after a while. He started to doze and closed his eyes, giving in to the nap he’d considered earlier.

A shriek startled him awake!

He jumped up just in time to catch a heavy shoe box slung against the side of his face. The corner caught him in the eye, and he grunted in pain. “Wait! Stop!” He flung up his arms to ward off the next hit, but she fooled him and came in with an underhand to his genitals. He crumpled over in a defensive move. “Don’t! EmmyLou!”

Hearing her name brought her up short. She paused and gave him a wary look. “Do I know you? How do you know my name?”

He held his hands up in surrender, trying to catch his breath between the streaks of agony pulsing through his groin.

“I’m Russ’s dad.” He leaned his hands on his knees and managed to get to a standing position. “I’m Jeff Wells, Maggie’s ex.”

“You’re Jeff Wells?”

“Yes.” He gave a relieved laugh and wiped his hand down his face. His focus returned just in time to see the fury that lit the redhead’s eyes right before she hauled back and boxed him again...this time in the stomach...with her fist.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M
AGGIE
’
S
SHOULDERS
SLUMPED
in defeat when she spotted her friend’s car in the driveway.

Here comes another lecture.

Emmy would be all over her because she hadn’t told her about her houseguest. She blew out a long breath at the irony. Her mom would have been all over her if she
had
told her the truth. Damned if she did; damned if she didn’t. That pretty much summed up the way her life had been going of late.

She pulled into the garage and retrieved the groceries from the backseat. The homegrown tomatoes from the region used to be one of Jeff’s favorites. She’d bought enough for him to enjoy the entire time he would be here.

Angry shouts met her as she opened the back door.

Emmy’s voice! What in the world...?

She followed the sound toward her bedroom.

“...not to mention all those years she spent waiting for you to come back.”

Oh, Emmy, please shut up!

But she didn’t.

“How do you walk out of someone’s life like that—someone you made a vow to stay with forever and had a child with? How do you live with yourself? You’re the kind of guy who gives all the rest of them a bad name!”

Maggie found them—or at least Emmy—standing in the doorway of her bedroom closet.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?”

Emmy spun around, eyes wide in surprise. “I...um...” Then the eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why didn’t you tell me the jerk-off was here?” She threw up her hands and stomped past Maggie, out of the room.

Maggie stormed after her, talking to her back all the way to the kitchen. “Emmy. Calm down. I didn’t tell you because I haven’t told anyone. Russ was upset about Dad’s surgery, and he wanted to come home for it. We didn’t want him to do that, so Jeff promised him he’d be there in his place.”

Emmy leaned a hip against the kitchen island and crossed her arms. “And, of course, he talked you into letting him stay here.” Her eyes shifted and focused above Maggie’s head.

“Yes, I did. And maybe that was a mistake.”

Turning at the sound of Jeff’s voice behind her, she gasped at the sight. “Oh, my God! What happened to you?”

The area around his left eye was an angry red, and it was swollen enough that the eye was closed.

“I hit him with those boots I borrowed.” Emmy didn’t sound the least bit contrite. “I went to put them in the closet, and he scared me—hiding in there like a pervert burglar—so I let him have it with the box to his face.”

“And the nuts,” Jeff added, eliciting another gasp of horror from Maggie.

She’d left her house six hours ago as a peaceful sanctuary and returned to find it a free-for-all.

“And then I punched him in the stomach.” Emmy shrugged. “Just for general purposes.”

“You’ve got quite a punch.” Jeff rubbed his stomach and the side of his mouth twitched with mirth. “Ever think of going into the ring?”

He was acting like this was a big joke? Maggie was aghast. The skin around his freaking eye was beginning to turn blue.

Emmy’s hands went to her hips, and she struck a pose. “Ever hear of kickboxing, jerk-off? How do you think I got a smokin’ body like this?”

Oh, good Lord. Maggie yanked open a drawer and pulled out a plastic storage bag to fill with ice.

“In California, it generally takes several surgeries to achieve those results.”

That brought a snicker from Emmy, and the tension in the room kicked down several notches.

Maggie handed Jeff the bag of ice. From another drawer Emmy pulled out a dishcloth to wrap it with and tossed it to him.

“Thanks.” He nodded to both of them.

“Well.” Maggie clapped her hands together. “I realize this is a tad late, but Emmy, this is Russ’s dad, Jeff Wells. Jeff, my best friend, EmmyLou Creighton.”

Jeff grinned and stuck out his hand. “Glad to make your acquaintance, EmmyLou.”

Emmy grinned back as she took his hand. “I’m still reserving judgment. But you only grunted when I hit you in the balls instead of squealing, so I’ll give you that.”

Jeff laughed, probably not realizing Emmy actually meant what she said.

Her friend’s eyes came to rest on Maggie then and her face sobered. “So you want to fill me in on all the specifics now? You went to Chicago to move your son to college and finished that by hooking up with your ex?”

Heat flashed in Maggie’s chest and started creeping up her face. “I...um...” She didn’t want to lie to Emmy, but how would Jeff feel about her discussing it just yet?

His arm came around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Yep. That’s pretty much the way it happened. We discovered the attraction was still there, so we just decided to go with the moment.”

“Really?” Emmy squealed and danced in place a few steps, drumming the granite countertop with her fingers. “That is
so
cool! Just like in the movies!”

“Now, Emmy,” Maggie cautioned. “Don’t go letting your imagination run away with this. We simply decided the grudge match had gone on long enough, and it was in everybody’s best interest—especially Russ’s—to let it go.”

“So you’ve buried the...
hatchet
,
so to speak?” Emmy’s eyebrows shrugged to emphasize her meaning.

Maggie rolled her eyes. Only then did she take a good look around the kitchen. “Did you bring food with you?”

Her friend sniffed. “The makings for tacos and margaritas. I thought you were going to be lonely.”

“Tacos and margaritas sound great.”

Maggie caught the genuine enthusiasm in Jeff’s voice.

“Well, I’ll just leave this stuff with y’all, then.” Emmy waved a hand toward the items she’d brought. “Enjoy.”

Maggie shot Jeff a questioning look, and he responded with a nod. “Stay, Emmy,” she said. “We’ll fix the tacos and have a nice supper out on the patio.”

Emmy paused and shook her head. “Y’all probably want to be alone.”

“You might as well stay.” Jeff snorted. “You’ve probably put me out of commission for a few days, anyway.” They all laughed together, and then Maggie felt Jeff’s hand on her shoulder again. “C’mon, Emmy, stay,” he insisted. “I need to find out if all those tales Maggie told me about you are true.”

Emmy directed a pointed look Maggie’s way, and Maggie nodded.

“Well, okay. You talked me into it.” She shifted her gaze to Jeff and arched an eyebrow. “And I intend to find out the same about you, so just get yourself ready.”

* * *

“C
ALL
ME
EVERY
couple of hours Monday, you hear?” Emmy shifted her car to Reverse and continued talking as she backed around Jeff and Maggie. “And if you need me to take you to the airport Wednesday, Jeff, let me know. I love Nashville. I’ll use any available excuse to spend some time there.”

“Thanks, I will.” Jeff hoped Maggie could take him, but it would depend on how well Eli was doing by then. Emmy volunteering as his backup ride relieved him of
that
worry.

But right then, a different worry inhabited prime residence in his mind. What had started as a niggle with their first ride to Loyola last Tuesday had blown into a full vexation during Emmy’s tirade this afternoon. He would have to broach the subject carefully and not give Mags the chance to dismiss it. And if she did, he would insist.

He needed an answer.

Emmy threw a wave out the window as she stepped on the gas, and they waved their goodbye to her taillights.

“Whew!” Jeff ran his hand across the back of his neck. “Does her mouth ever close?”

Maggie shook her head. “Dad says Emmy is probably incapable of farting because her mouth doesn’t stay closed long enough to build up any pressure.”

Jeff guffawed. Only Eli could come up with something that outlandish. “I’ll bet she and your dad are a hell of a mess when they get together.”

“I get stomach cramps from laughing at them.”

He rested his arm around her waist as they walked, subtly directing her toward the patio where they’d been relaxing all evening. He wanted to keep her that way—relaxed and open.

“I’m sorry about your eye.” She glanced up and protruded her bottom lip in sympathy. “Does it hurt much?”

“Naw,” he lied, and then thought better of it. If he wanted complete honesty from Mags, he needed to set the tone. “That’s not true. It hurts like hell.” The swelling had completely closed the eye, which made his depth perception wonky, and the bruise reached from his eyebrow to his cheek. “But I’ll live.”

“I’ll get you more ice.” When Maggie pulled away toward the house, he caught her and pushed her gently into a chair.

“You sit. I can get my own ice.”

He went in and filled the bag again. Spotting the mason jar of Emmy’s moonshine, he grabbed it and a couple of shot glasses from the bar.

Mags turned at the
clink
of the glassware on the table and raised an eyebrow. “That stuff will rid you of any pain you might be feeling.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” He started to pour.

“Half shots. And sip. Don’t gulp,” she warned as he handed her a glass.

He followed her lead and took a small sip, expecting a punch to the stomach similar to the one Emmy gave him earlier. What he got instead was a burst of cinnamon, sweet and satiny. “Wow!” He drew back and looked at it through his good eye. “That’s smooth.”

“Hence the danger.” Mags wagged a finger at him. “I’m telling you, it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Two shots deep and you can’t keep your head up. Despite the yummy taste, the main alcohol ingredient is still Everclear.”

A heron glided overhead in the direction of the pond at the back of the property. Jeff watched it, feeling the warmth of the drink starting to work its magic. He laid the ice pack to the side and reached out to take Maggie’s hand.

She started to smile but it quickly faded. “What?” she asked.

“Emmy’s last punch—the one to my stomach—came
after
she knew who I was. She said some things...”

The deep breath left her lungs on a slow, audible sigh. “Yeah. I heard.”

That sounded like a confession, and the truth pressed against his chest wall. “She said
years
,
Mags. That you waited for years, expecting...hoping I’d come back.”

“Yes, it’s true. I was still in love with you long after we split up.”

“I thought you hated me.” He worked hard to isolate his frustration and shove it out of the conversation. “When I left, you didn’t even come out to say goodbye. You sent your mom out with Russ.”

“Because I didn’t
want
to say goodbye.” She glanced away, searching the darkness. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted you to go.” Her eyes came back and rested on his. “I needed some peace in my life. What we were doing to Russ with the constant arguing terrified me. He’d started to stutter, if you remember...”

“Yeah, I do.” Jeff had tried hard to forget that, but he’d watched his son’s speech patterns cautiously until he was in the fourth or fifth grade.

“That was my breaking point.” Mags got the shot glass halfway to her lips and then put it back down. “I’d already failed as a wife, and I was failing as a mother, too. Something had to give. I thought you and I were too far gone to fix. Letting you go seemed like the only answer.”

Jeff’s attention caught on the regret implied by the word
seemed
,
but before he could question it, she went on.

“After you left, I slept for days. Didn’t eat. Didn’t bathe. Refused to see anybody...including Russ. Until Mom finally shamed me back into the world of the living. But, even after everybody else thought I was okay, I still cried myself to sleep at night for a long time. Letting you go physically was one thing, but letting you go with my heart...that took years.”

His heart compressed. “But you did? Right?” He held his breath, not sure which answer he wanted.

“I finally decided I was making myself crazy, and I needed to move on. I went to Pastor Sawyer for counseling.”

Jeff remembered the kind pastor. They’d gone to him, two kids scared out of their wits, and he’d immediately agreed to marry them. No lectures...no condemnation.

“He convinced me to give myself permission to love again.”

The air stuttered in Jeff’s lungs.

“Zeke came along about that time. He was fun...very indulgent, like Mom and Dad. He treated me like a queen and adored Russ. I jumped in with both feet, thinking it was my new acceptance of myself that I was celebrating.” She paused. “Later, I realized I was trying to make up for lost time. Trying to get my twenties back as I approached my thirties.” She shook her head. “I think he saw me as a challenge—someone who needed to be shaken out of her lethargy—and he thought he could be what I needed, only to realize too late that he couldn’t. I was way past believing in the fairy tale.”

And what about now?

The question was poised on the tip of his tongue. He took a sip to dislodge and wash it away, yet it remained even after he swallowed.

But he saw the look in Maggie’s eye, understood that she’d correctly deciphered his unspoken message. She paused and leaned toward him slightly, preparing to speak again, pinning him with her direct, unblinking gaze, and his body became all ears, open and ready to absorb what she said.

She licked her lips, and then her mouth formed sounds he heard and understood.

“And you should be, too,” she said.

* * *

W
HAT
WAS
HE
EXPECTING
?

Jeff was far from being drunk, but he’d had enough alcohol for his defenses to be lowered. Disappointment flashed in his eyes, and her gut twisted with panic, away from that corner he was trying to push her into.

She jerked her hand from his grasp. “We had an agreement, Jeff. This week was supposed to be fun and relaxing. A time to clear up lingering issues, not create more.”

“I just thought—” He reached for her hand again, and she pulled it from his reach to rest it on the arm of her chair.

“What? That a few nights together would change everything? Fix everything that was broken?”