What Mattered Most (18 page)

“You sound really enthused,” Casey’s drawl greeted him. “Is being a pencil-pushing desk jockey that bad?”

John rubbed his aching temples. Why didn’t Casey wait until he got home? “Worse.”

“John-boy, how do you feel about fishing?”

The ancient chair gave a plaintive squeak when John leaned back. Suspicion tingled to life in his brain. “I’ve never done it. Why?”

“You’ve never… You’re kidding.”

John grinned at his roommate’s shock, the humor a pleasant, if unfamiliar, emotion. He didn’t have a lot to smile about lately. “No, I’m not. Are you doing a poll on leisure activities or what?”

“Actually, I’m looking for a partner for the Haven County bass tournament. Tim has come down with the flu, and somehow I don’t think having him puke over the side of the boat every five minutes will help me catch anything.”

The phone cradled between chin and shoulder, John picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk blotter. He found it hard to believe, but he was actually tempted. “I don’t know.”

“Look, John, you don’t have to even do anything but sit on the boat. I’ve already paid the entrance fee, and I don’t want to forfeit that.”

Head tilted back, John stared at the ceiling. The tournament was the largest fundraiser for the Haven County Sheriff’s Department. This year, it also served as a memorial for Steve Martinez. Somehow, he felt he owed Martinez this much. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“Great. I appreciate it, man. See you tonight.”

“Yeah.” John replaced the receiver and jammed the pen back in the cup on his desk. At least he’d have something to fill the empty hours Saturday since it wasn’t his visitation weekend with Sonny Buck. Normally, he’d see his son this evening, but Lanie had emailed him earlier, begging off since friends planned to throw her a belated baby shower. The days until Tuesday, his next scheduled visitation, stretched before him.

For six weeks, his life had revolved around Lanie and his son. In the last two, he’d learned what shaking an addiction felt like—being deprived of Sonny Buck’s presence had to be as bad as any crackhead’s withdrawal. Even worse was being without Lanie. Dreams of her invaded his sleep. He woke at night, his body hard and aching, and reached for her before he remembered. Twenty times a day, he found himself checking his voice mail, just to see if he’d hear her voice. He never did.

Rebecca, the younger of the two clerks, drank coffee spiked with vanilla and cinnamon; the scent drove him crazy. A single whiff dredged up memories of Lanie—her arms wrapped around him, her mouth on his skin. Over and over, he relived climbing in the tub with her the night Mitchell blew all their lives apart. His body reacted to the memory of her wicked smile, her warm, wet fingers sliding around his erection, the feel of her body around him. He smothered a groan and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the errant desire away.

Looking back, knowing what he’d lost, he wished he’d savored that night—every touch, every kiss, every sigh.

Hell, he wished he’d called a tow truck for Beth.

While he was at it, he wished he’d had enough damn sense to know that Lanie was the woman he loved—and that he’d told her when she might have believed him.

Lanie eyed Caitlin seated on the floor by the coffee table and sighed. She could see her own tension echoed in the tight line of Caitlin’s shoulders. Outside lightning crashed again, rain sheeting against the windows. With resignation, she waited for the lights to go out.

Cradled against her shoulder, Sonny Buck scrunched up his entire body and wailed. This new evening ritual had started a week ago—three to four hours of inconsolable screaming. When he stopped to catch his breath, his little body shook with raspy sobs. Tuesday night, even John’s soothing touch had failed to work. Tonight, Sonny had screeched through her entire abbreviated baby shower.

A glance at the clock over the mantel told her they had another hour or so until he quieted. Her stomach clenched, and she held him closer, brushing her lips against his head. If possible, his body tightened further, and Lanie tried to squash the feelings of rejection and inadequacy. Why couldn’t she figure out what was wrong?

Closing her eyes, she listened to the wails building in the room. She knew it was silly, but they almost sounded like accusations. The crying hadn’t started until John moved out, and she couldn’t help wondering if there was a connection. Sonny Buck had bonded with his father; he had to miss him, miss the stability of John’s presence.

“Lanie?” At Caitlin’s quiet voice, Lanie opened her eyes. Caitlin stacked opened gifts on the coffee table. “How are you handling the formula measurements?”

Trust Caitlin to bring up her shortcomings. She shrugged off the bitchy thought. “My therapist suggested I take pictures of the measuring cups and the containers. I put them on the wall and just follow the steps. Believe it or not, it works. I haven’t screwed it up yet.”

“Sounds like you’re getting along okay without John.”

“Yeah.” Lanie feathered her fingers over the baby’s head. She moved through Sonny Buck’s daily routine, but the house seemed incredibly empty with just the two of them. She missed her job, and as badly as she hated to admit it, she missed John. The old cliché made her want to laugh—she couldn’t live with him; she couldn’t live without him.

Glancing up, she flinched under Caitlin’s knowing gaze. She’d never been able to deceive Caitlin. Needing to get away, she turned toward the stairs. “I’m going to see if a warm bath will help him relax.”

An hour later, a quiet, drowsy Sonny Buck in his crib, Lanie wandered back downstairs. She didn’t glance at the foyer and its memories, steeling herself to join Caitlin in the living room.

Still seated on the floor by the coffee table, Caitlin didn’t look up. “I’m making you a list of gifts and who sent them. I’ll help you with thank-you notes while I’m here, if you like.”

“That would be great.” Lanie gathered empty paper cups and plates from the room and added them to the trash bag.

Caitlin capped her pen and laid it on the pad. She looked up, catching Lanie’s gaze. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Sonny Buck? More than I can say.”

“I don’t mean the baby. It’s obvious you love him. You’re a great mother.”

“Thank you, but I think he’s just an easy baby.” Lanie forced a laugh to cover her discomfort.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Caitlin pinned her with the look Lanie suspected her cousin used with recalcitrant suspects. Pure steel under satin refinement.

Feeling trapped, Lanie walked to the glass doors and stared out at the drizzling rain. “I don’t know how. He’s not the man I thought he was.” She remembered his anguish and the cryptic comment about his mother. “There’s so much I don’t know about him. How can I love him?”

“I don’t know. But you’re miserable with him gone, aren’t you?”

“And I’d be miserable with him here. I’d always wonder if he was thinking of Beth, if he wanted her instead.” She glanced at Caitlin over her shoulder. “Could you live with that?”

“Probably not.” Caitlin wrapped her arms around her knees. “I hate seeing you unhappy.”

Lanie turned away from those all-seeing eyes. With a fingertip, she traced a raindrop’s path down the window. In the weeks since the night she’d given in to the temptation of John’s touch, she’d wrestled with her feelings and what they meant. With the memory of his mouth on hers, desire tingled in her abdomen, and she squashed it. She had only one option. “It’s the lesser of two evils, Cait. I’d rather be alone than end up like my mother, living with a man she could never really have. And I won’t do that to my baby, either.”

Silence lay between them for long moments, and when Caitlin spoke again, her voice was too cheerful. “Did you decide if you’re going with us tomorrow night?”

Lanie sighed, her gaze on the tear-like droplets glistening on the glass. “I don’t know. I’d love to get out for a while. I could find a sitter, but I bet nothing in my closet fits.”

“Sounds like a great reason for a shopping bonanza. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Anticipation shivered over Lanie’s skin. A new dress. Dinner. Music. A little dancing, and a night when she could feel like the old Lanie. A night to help her forget John O’Reilly ever existed. She turned, grinning. “You’re right. It does sound like fun. In fact, it sounds like just what I need.”

“Well, I’m going to get out of here.” Caitlin rose, brushing at the seat of her jeans. “I’ll come by around nine.”

As Lanie closed the door behind her cousin, the phone rang. She hurried to pick it up, not wanting the upstairs extension to wake the baby. “Hello?”

For a second, silence shimmered on the line, and her nerves tingled. John cleared his throat. “Hi. I was calling to see if Sonny had a better evening.”

Eyes closed, she leaned against the hallway wall. The deep roughness of his voice conjured recollections of them together, dark whispers of what he wanted from her, what he wanted to do to her. “About the same. He’s asleep now.”

“Did you call Dr. Ridley? What did he say?”

“It’s probably colic. It lasts about a month.”

“A month?” The distinct squeak of shifting bedsprings carried over the line, and Lanie pictured him lying in bed, wearing just his boxer briefs. Her mouth went dry.

“That’s what he said.” God help her, she was grateful for the inane conversation, the opportunity to bask in his voice.

“I get off at five every afternoon. If you need help, I can come over and—”

“We’re fine.” The words emerged sharp and brittle, but she couldn’t handle seeing him every evening, knowing he’d leave.

Silence stretched over the line. “Fine.” His voice was clipped, harsh. “I’ll see him Tuesday, then. Good night.”

The line went dead, and Lanie stood for a long time, leaning against the wall, the phone pressed against her lips.

John jogged up the stairs to the small apartment he now shared with Casey McInvale. He could feel the weight of the fundraiser dinner-dance ticket he carried in his pocket, the outline burning into his skin. Casey had laid it on him after the fishing tournament that morning, and the ticket was pure temptation—an excuse, an opportunity to see Lanie. Not even a game of tennis at the Y had pushed it from his mind. Already, his resolve weakened.

He tried to shrug off the despondency settling on him—he’d given Lanie time and space, and he was no closer to getting through to her than he’d been when she’d awakened in the hospital, looking at him with hatred in the golden depths of her eyes.

On the landing, he sorted through his keys, still not used to looking for the brass key instead of the silver one to Lanie’s door. The key stuck in the lock, and he cursed under his breath, jiggling the handle. Finally, the door swung inward, and he stepped into a raucous blend of familiar voices.

“O’Reilly! About time you got here.” Casey stood in front of the mirror by the front door, straightening his tie. “Look who’s here.”

Hank Starling and Alison Rivers, the detectives who had shared the desks adjacent to his and Beth’s, greeted him with derogatory teasing about desk jockey spread and pencil pushing assignments. He laughed, but his attention was on the other occupant of the room. Beth stood by the kitchen door, a bottle of sparkling water in hand, a dark blue dress setting off her copper hair and fair skin.

She smiled and crossed the room to envelop him in a warm hug. “Smile, O’Reilly. I’m not going to bite you.”

He returned the hug, glad to see her eyes were bright and clear. “I wasn’t worried about that, Cameron.”

No shivers of sensation moved over his skin. His nerves didn’t jerk. The only emotion tugging at his heart was simple pleasure that she lived. His eyes closed, with Beth’s arms around him, the only face he saw in his mind was Lanie’s.

“God, you smell.” She stepped back, her nose wrinkled. “What have you been doing?”

With a sheepish grin, he tugged a hand through his hair. “Playing tennis. What are you doing here?”

“I got a personal invite from Sheriff Burnett to Haven County’s fundraiser dinner.” She shrugged, still smiling, although shadows slipped into her blue eyes. “I figured since his guys saved my life, showing up was the least I could do.”

The ticket in his pocket took on extra weight. “Where’s Nicole? How’s she doing?”

“Better. She’s making friends and settling down at school. The little girl across the hall from our place is in her class; she’s spending the night over there.”

John waved a hand at the others. “I guess you guys are making a night of it, huh?”

Casey leaned against the foyer wall and grinned. “I graciously offered to escort Ms. Cameron since my lovely and understanding significant other had to work an extra shift.”

“And
we’re
making a night of it, O’Reilly,” Alison put in. Seated on the sofa arm, she tugged the skirt of her little black dress closer to her knee. “You still owe me a dance from New Year’s.”

“You’ll have to take another raincheck, Rivers. I’m not going. I need an early night.” Beth’s presence made his decision for him. He could imagine Lanie’s reaction if he showed up with Beth, even in a group.

“That desk job is already getting to him,” Hank said.

“Shut up, Starling.” Beth stared John down, her eyes narrowed. “We’re not taking no for an answer, O’Reilly.”

With a harsh laugh, he slumped into the recliner. “How about ‘hell, no’ then?”

Casey jingled his keys. “Starling, Rivers. Let’s go pull the car around. We’ll let Cameron work her persuasive wonders on him.”

The others filed out, leaving John and Beth staring at each other. She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one foot. “Now what’s going on?”

Pushing the chair back, John folded his hands behind his head. “Nothing. I just don’t feel like socializing.”

“No.” Beth waved a hand around the room. “I mean, this. You moving out. The desk job. The fact you look like walking crap.”

He resisted the urge to jump to his feet and pace. “I took the desk job so I could spend time with my kid. I moved out because Lanie wanted me out. And maybe I look like crap because that’s what my life has turned into.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed further, gleaming blue slits. “Poor baby. Having a little pity party, are we?”

Fury sizzled on his nerves. Slamming the chair to an upright position, he shot to his feet. “Don’t give me that, Cameron. I don’t need it from you. Remember, I’ve seen you in worse condition than I’m in.”

She smiled, surprising him. “Good. You haven’t forgotten how to fight. What are you doing, just giving in? Is that your plan, O’Reilly? Give her everything, including your back to use as a door mat?”

He jerked his fingers through his hair. “She doesn’t
want
me anymore. What am I supposed to do? Hang around outside her door until she takes pity on me and takes me back?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. Have you tried telling her you love her?” She pointed from his head to his feet. “It’s obvious you’re pining away for her. God knows, you didn’t go to hell like this when I dumped you.”

“I can’t tell her.” The words hurt his throat. “She wouldn’t believe me.”

With a disgusted sigh, Beth grabbed her small beaded bag from the sofa table. “You know what, O’Reilly? You’re hopeless. Stay here; wallow in self-pity. And in six months, when you eat your gun, maybe Lanie will show up for your funeral.”