She's the One (9 page)

Zeke set down the stack of bowls he’d pulled from the cabinet with a bang.

Dylan looked up at the sound. “What? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? Why would I be happy about that? Colt needs other kids his own age, to learn to play and to do things away from you and me. He don’t need you hovering over him every minute of every day.”

Dylan paused in the act of putting on his gloves, ignoring the lurch of fear in his gut. “What are you saying?”

Zeke’s green eyes held a brutal honesty Dylan wasn’t prepared to see. Surely Zeke wasn’t implying what he thought?

“I knew you needed to get your feet back under you but I never intended for you to stay forever. You don’t belong here, son.”

The comment floored him like a prizefighter’s KO punch. His feet
were
under him, at least they had been until Zeke had come right out and verbalized what Dylan
had already wondered. Zeke was trying to get rid of him and Colt, thought they’d overstayed their welcome?

He didn’t know which was worse, the anger and hurt he felt that Zeke wanted them gone, or the fear of what would happen away from the safety of Deadwood Mountain. Both made it too damn hard to breathe.

Moving to Alaska had been about licking his wounds and protecting his son, getting away. Colt’s emotional health was fragile, the pieces only now mending together after being shattered to bits. Hover? He felt he owed it to Colt after missing so much of his son’s first two years. He’d hover over Colt forever if it meant making his son feel safe. The kid had lived through hell, survived the very flames of it, and he deserved to have someone care enough to hover.

Sweat broke out on Dylan’s forehead and his heart thumped hard and heavy in his chest. He glared at his father, so angry he shook with the force of it. “This is our home now, too. You didn’t do this on your own. I’ve invested time and labor into this place. You want me to uproot Colt again? You’re not going to be cleared to fly now and you know it. Who’s going to fly in your guests?”

“Like you want to do that for the rest of your life,” Zeke countered. “The only reason you agreed this time was because you knew I’d do it myself if you didn’t.”

He didn’t deny Zeke’s claim.

“It’s time to stop running, son. And kissing that girl last night is a damn good way to start. Don’t screw it up by letting her get away when she’s the only thing in two years other than Colt that’s made you wake up in the morning and give a damn.”

Zeke implied a relationship. But any relationship
Dylan could possibly have would be doomed. Zeke didn’t know everything. He didn’t know the secret Dylan kept, and no relationship could thrive or survive without trust. He couldn’t trust anyone with the truth, with knowledge that could destroy both him
and
Colt.

Nothing was worth that risk. No one was worth the risk.

“Don’t look at me like that. I never said it would be easy. Just tell Alex what happened and get it out there, see what she says. That girl might surprise you. She’s surprised all of us here, hasn’t she? I sure haven’t heard her complain, have you?”

She hadn’t complained. She probably would have stood in that lake all day with her teeth chattering like a novelty store toy until she caught a fish. He admired her tenacity. Her behavior made him think maybe she
could
handle the truth of his past and the problems and headaches that came with it.

But what if he was wrong? Once she knew, there was no taking it back and a part of him didn’t want to see her look at him the way so many others had, with fear or horror in her eyes.

Dylan walked out the door without responding, unable to be in the same room with Zeke when so much had been said about a future that seemed so out of his control.

He’d done the right thing last night by calling a halt and leaving Alexandra at her door. True nastiness was people on a manhunt, ready for vigilante justice. True fear? Sitting in a jail cell without bond when his three-year-old needed him most, all because he was considered a flight risk.

Why would he set himself up to fall again?

No, Zeke was wrong. Some things you can face, but you can’t fight. Some things you can’t outrun.

Dylan went to the dock and readied the boat for the day’s excursion, his mind replaying the conversation in his head.

He needed to make a call, check into purchasing that tract of land. Otherwise he and Colt wouldn’t have anywhere to go where they’d be safe.

S
O HE WAS GOING TO BE THAT
way about what happened last night, huh?

Alex tried to be discreet as she glanced over her shoulder to where Dylan sat guiding the boat along the lake toward the farthest end, to where he’d said bears liked to fish. Their gazes locked briefly but Dylan quickly refocused on their destination.

With a determined huff and a silent
bite me,
she faced forward again. Having seen no sign of a bear the other day, she’d looked forward to this excursion and nothing about Dylan’s tall, dark and brooding attitude was going to ruin it for her. After all, he was the one behaving badly. It was only a few kisses, after all, so what was he so uptight about?

Okay, so maybe she’d thought they’d had a connection in the hall and maybe she’d thought his kisses were
really
nice, but she hadn’t expected the silent treatment and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was she the only one having fun last night? She didn’t think so. So what was the deal?

The deal is he changed his mind. It’s over. Move on.

Alex buried her mouth and nose beneath the scarf wrapped around her neck, forcing her body to relax between Ansel and Walter.

Then she saw it. Barely a blur in the distance, a bear fished at the mouth of the lake.

“Look at that,” Walter said, leaning toward her in an effort to be heard over the boat’s engine but not loud enough to scare the bear away.

She’d read that some bears had become so used to humans they basically ignored the boats and chatter of their observers. Still, Dylan cut the boat’s forward motion down to a slow glide, and, other than a glance in their direction, the bear didn’t move.

Alex felt Dylan’s gaze on her like a physical touch but she didn’t look back at him. Busying herself with her camera, she zoomed in, determined to be a professional despite the twinge of hurt and disappointment she felt.

If he wanted to be that way, fine.

Alex watched the bear through her lens. She’d photographed plenty of black bears in Tennessee but the cinnamon-colored one in front of her was full of character and brought out chuckles from her and her seatmates. Time and again the bear dipped his large paw into the water after a fish. And time and again he came up empty. Finally, the bear got impatient, rose onto his hind legs and waited for the perfect moment to pounce. Down he went into the water and this time he dipped his head low to retrieve his catch. All three gave a low cheer for the bear’s success.

“You get all that?” Ansel asked.

“Yup. Right down to the first bite,” she said with a grin.

They watched the bear until he finished fishing and returned to the woods then Dylan guided the boat around. On their way back to the lodge, Alex snapped a few more photos. They passed a moose drinking at the lake’s edge, saw migrating sandhill cranes perched on
a tree stump, and her present favorite—an eagle sitting proud high in a treetop. He was so majestic and regal.

At the dock, she stowed her camera for safekeeping while Ansel and Walter climbed out. When she looked up expecting one of the older men to be waiting to lend a hand, she discovered them halfway up the lodge path and hurrying as fast as their legs would carry them.

Only Dylan remained.

He released a disgruntled sigh when he finished tying the boat and realized what had happened. Shifting his attention to her, he held out his hand to take her equipment.

Alex handed it over only because she couldn’t toss it onto the dock and risk damaging it. While Dylan set it aside, she began to climb out of the boat using the metal ladder.

“Alexandra—”

“No,” she said, careful to watch her step onto the floating dock so she didn’t fall, “it’s fine. You don’t need to say anything, I get it.” She grabbed her backpack of equipment and straightened, only to find herself nose to chest with him.

“Because you regret it?”

She could lie and say yes but why bother when she didn’t regret it at all? “No. Because I can tell, for whatever reason,
you
do.” She sidestepped him to follow the others but Dylan caught her arm in a gentle grip, close enough that she smelled the scent of his soap and the laundry detergent stashed in the utility room.

Alex forced her gaze up—and suddenly she wasn’t so sure he regretted it so much as feared it. She blinked at the hint of pain and confusion, the flash of vul
nerability she didn’t want to see. Because of the hurt he’d suffered when his wife died? Was he still mourning her? Was that why he was acting this way?

Dylan grimaced, his gaze shifting away from hers. “I can feel those old geezers watching us from inside. Will you take a walk with me?”

And get shot down again? It was obvious Dylan had some issues. “I guess I could get my camera out and pretend you’re going to show me something.”

“I can only imagine the jokes they’d make about what I was showing you,” he said with a wry twist to his lips. “How about we take the boat over there,” he said, pointing to the white, barkless trees sticking out of the lake’s edge like toothpicks. “Would you like some photos of those? They wind around the bend there.”

Determined to say no because that’s what any smart, kissed-and-snubbed woman would do, she said, “Sure.”

Five minutes later they were out of sight of the lodge and Alex still wondered whether she’d made the right decision.

They rocked gently on the surface of the lake, and while she actually did retrieve her camera and take several pictures of the white, weather-smooth trees and their reflection on the cold, murky water, she was ultimately unable to concentrate due to Dylan’s presence. Had he brought her out here only to brood again? Seriously?

“I don’t regret last night. Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Okay. That was good to know.

“Alexandra, Colt was three when his mother died in a fire.”

Alex blinked at him in surprise. A fire.
The
fire? The one that had burned him?

Her gaze dropped to his gloved hands and, unable to help herself, she reached over and trailed a fingertip over the scars she knew were beneath the protective leather. “Where you got these?”

He nodded, shifting forward on the seat until he rested his elbows on his knees, his focus on the watery grove of trees in front of them. “I wasn’t home when it started. We lived at the top of a mountain road on a pretty isolated stretch. We had neighbors but their homes were below us and it was late, after midnight. I’d been away on business and had been for a while. Lauren—my wife—got upset when I stayed away too long. She was upset a lot when I was home, too, though, so I’d begun to take the attitude that it didn’t matter where I was because she’d always be upset about something.”

He glanced at Alex and she noted his expression was the most open and revealing she’d seen since she’d arrived. This was turning into way more than the aftermath of a few kisses.

Part of her recognized Dylan’s words as a hole opening up in the wall between them. One that wouldn’t close again. Given his tone and what he’d told her…Was it more than she wanted to know?

“It was no secret amongst our neighbors and friends that we had problems. We didn’t get along, had our share of screaming matches and we’d separated a couple times both before and after Colt was born.” His head lowered another inch. “We had different views on everything, were incompatible, but we both had our reasons for staying together. Mainly it was for Colt, but
there were other things, as well. Money, convenience, image. All the excuses people give to themselves when they put up with more than they should because they just can’t break the ties that bind them.”

She’d forgotten she’d placed her hand over his until her fingers instinctively tightened. She could feel the tension in him. And because she couldn’t bring herself to stop his words, she moved her hand under his arm to hold him close. Both for Dylan because he looked as though he needed that contact to get through whatever he was about to tell her, and for herself because she needed an anchor. The balance between them was shifting with every word he uttered, and she knew it was no small thing for him to tell her what happened. How she felt about it happening, she wasn’t so sure.

“I knew Lauren was upset and getting angrier with every day that passed, so I decided to placate her and fly home long enough to check on her and Colt before flying out the next morning.” A rough huff left his chest. “I was prepared to give her about eight hours of my life. I thought, given our situation, that was enough, but all I really wanted was to see my son.”

She’d wondered if Dylan’s marriage was a happy one. Now she knew. But knowing it had ended badly, and in tragedy, wasn’t a good feeling. Who could be happy about that?

“When I got there the house was already in flames. I was so exhausted I remember just sitting there in the driveway because I thought I’d fallen asleep. I thought I was having a nightmare.”

“No one goes home expecting to see that. You were probably in shock.”

“All I could think about was Colt. I wasn’t even sure he was there. Sometimes Lauren left him with a cousin of hers but I had to know for sure. The front of the house was impassable so I ran around to the back to find a way in.”

“Dylan.” She smoothed her hand over his arm again, unable to imagine carrying that night not only in his mind but on his body. “If the memories are too much, you don’t have to continue.”

“Yes, I do.”

His head swung toward her and Alex was taken aback by the urgent, almost desperate need she saw in his eyes. As though he wanted to tell her,
had
to tell her.

“All I’ve thought about today is kissing you again, being with you. And even though I’d rather never talk about the fire again, you need to know this about me first.”

Being
with her? As in
sleep
with her?

What do you think he means?

Wondering if she’d lost her mind because she didn’t
do
casual sex, she went over the rest of his words. What did she have to know about him? “Tell me.”

“I broke Colt’s window and climbed in. Colt wasn’t in his bed and I thought he wasn’t there so I went to the bedroom door to get to Lauren.” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. “I almost missed him, I wouldn’t have seen Colt at all if I hadn’t tripped over him.”

Oh, dear God. Colt was in the fire, too? “But you found him,” she whispered, hoping to soothe him, remind him, well able to imagine the thoughts in Dylan’s head right now. “And he’s fine. Was he conscious?”

Dylan nodded. “He was crying. He had his hands over his ears and he—he kept saying, ‘Mommy.’”

“What did you do?”

“The flames were coming under his door, right next to where we were. I didn’t think, I just grabbed the first thing I could and tried to put them out so we could get out of there. So I could get Colt out.” He swallowed, and took a deep, ragged breath. “There was this sound…this horrible noise. I didn’t realize what it was.”

She waited for him to continue, dread heavy in her stomach.

“Lauren was screaming. I think that’s what Colt heard, why he had his hands over his ears and was sitting there by the door, like he was waiting for her.”

Alex gasped, her free hand shooting to her mouth to cover it. She burrowed into Dylan’s side, her head on his shoulder, taking comfort as much as she offered it. She said a prayer for Dylan’s wife because it was the only thing she could do, and tightened her hold on Dylan. What a horrible way to die. What a horrible thing to
hear
. She couldn’t fathom the pain and terror they had all endured.

“I took Colt out the window. I had to get him out but I thought I had enough time. I thought I could get to them from the outside.”

All of the pain missing from Dylan’s voice the afternoon he’d said Colt’s mother was dead was present now. She heard it, felt it. Saw it on his face. But when his words repeated in her head, she frowned.
Them?
“Was someone else there?”

There was no mistaking his expression now. Such a bitter twist to his lips.

“Lauren wasn’t alone. Her boyfriend’s car was in the driveway. He was in the bedroom with her.”

Her
boyfriend?
With Colt in the same house with them?

“I got Colt away from the house but the roof caved in. That’s when she stopped screaming.”

Alex sat there in stunned silence, unable to feel much of anything except horror for all Dylan and Colt had been through.

“Alexandra, I swear to you I was going back, I was going back to try to save them but I had to get Colt out. I had to make sure he was somewhere safe so he wouldn’t follow me.”

“Of course. Why would you—?” Suddenly she knew. People talked. Said cruel things.

“I wasted precious seconds sitting in the driveway staring at the flames.”

No. She could hear a lot of things and keep her mouth closed, but she couldn’t handle that. “Dylan, you’re an intelligent man. That was shock setting in. Who wouldn’t be completely caught off guard and
terrified
at coming home and seeing that? Knowing your family was inside?” She lifted her hand to his face and gently angled it toward her. So close, she could see the little lines around his eyes. “Everyone thinks of things they should’ve said or
done
after they lose someone. It’s natural.”

Dylan stared into her eyes and she felt the connection all the way to her soul. His hazel gaze was a turbulent sea of wariness and disbelief, reluctance that seemed to turn to thankfulness? Maybe hope?

“You don’t think I should’ve done more? That there isn’t a chance I hesitated because I knew what she’d been doing with him?”

Is that what he thought? What others had thought
of
him? That he’d left his wife and lover inside on purpose, because Lauren was with another man? “No, I don’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

How could she explain her instinct? Her sense of self-preservation and intuition? Whatever the name, she knew the truth. Dylan was so shaken by tragedy, he’d lost all objectivity but she knew. “Because even though I’m sure you were angry at them for what they were doing with your son in your home, you aren’t a sociopath capable of hurting someone that way. Did you call 911?”