Justine Davis – Operation Hero's Watch (страница 9)
“I’m sure most stalking victims think it sounds crazy until they find out it’s true. And better you take steps and it turns out not to be anything than not and it does. Or something.” He gave her that crooked smile that had always sent her pulse racing. It still did, and she looked down, a little embarrassed that after all this time he could have this effect on her.
She supposed she shouldn’t be. He had the same bright blue eyes and that same sweetly crooked smile. His body was still tall and lean, and he still had that way of shoving one hand in his jeans pocket that made her hyperaware of the lean maleness of his hips. The fact that he looked older now, a bit older even than she knew he was, only made him more attractive. True, he looked a bit careworn, his hair longer and a bit shaggy, his jeans frayed and faded, his jacket torn on one side, his boots worn and with what looked like a strip of duct tape across one toe. Then again, people paid lots of money for just that look in a futile effort to appear cool.
But that kind of guy didn’t travel over a thousand miles to keep a silly promise to look out for his friend’s younger sister.
“Let’s get you settled in,” she said, making an effort at sounding brisk and efficient, and succeeding somewhat. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” he admitted with a rueful twist of his mouth.
“Then aren’t you lucky I made spaghetti sauce yesterday,” she said lightly.
As if on cue his stomach growled. And it made his protest that she didn’t have to do that sound like exactly what it was, a token.
“You came all this way to help me, the least I can do is feed you.” She led him down the hall. He glanced at a doorway as they passed—Cory’s old room. “It’s still Cory’s,” she said, “not that he uses it anymore. He just stores a lot of junk in there. I can’t get him to clean it out.”
“I still remember those bunk beds your dad built. I always thought that was so cool. Not just the beds, but that he built them himself.”
He had always liked them, she remembered. And she remembered his reaction when he’d first looked at the footboards her father had carved.
“He was a very handy guy,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry,” Jace said. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
“They’re not painful,” she assured him quickly. “I love that people remember him like that. Most people don’t talk about them, and it feels like they’ve forgotten they ever existed.”
They’d reached the door to the guest room. “I moved into the master,” she said. “After a year or so. It seemed silly not to, if I was going to keep the place.”
Funny, when she’d decided to move back into this house after her parents had been killed in that accident, she’d thought she would find it too big, too full of memories for her to ever relax. And yet she’d found it strangely comforting.
“Only makes sense,” he said. “And you’ve made it yours.”
“I’ve tried.” She had redone many things, added her own touch.
“Besides, it’s not like being somewhere else is going to stop the memories. They’re in you. Places just trigger them.”
She stared at him. “Yes. Exactly.”
It wasn’t that she was surprised; Jace had always had depth to him. One of those memories he’d just mentioned flashed into her mind, of her sixteen-year-old self saying to her mother how much more mature—that was a popular word to her then—he seemed than Cory.
“He is,” her mother had said, a touch of sadness in her voice. “His father is...a difficult man.”
She had wondered for an instant if the sadness was for Jace or that Cory wasn’t as mature. Decided it had to be for Jace, because she was sure Cory would eventually catch up. She’d been wrong about that, but at the time she’d been certain.
“But his mom’s so sweet,” she’d said.
“Yes. Which makes it even more difficult.”
She hadn’t understood then. But when her father had come home with the news that Jace and his mother had moved away because his father had left them, she thought she did.
“Can I ask you something?” she said when they were in the guest room, he’d dropped his worn pack on the bed and she’d shown him where clean towels were.
“You can always ask,” he said.
“You mean why did I go with her?”
“Yes.”
He leaned against the small dresser, crossing his ankles and his arms. Defensively? she wondered. “Thinking I was a mama’s boy who couldn’t be away from her?”
Yes, definitely defensively. “I never thought that. Ever.”
He let out an audible breath. “She needed help. I couldn’t just walk away.”
“Especially after your father did.”
His gaze narrowed. “You know that, then.”
She smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid the whole neighborhood did.”
He grimaced. “I figured.”
“We all knew your dad was...”
“An assh—”
He cut himself off. She found herself wondering if he’d done it to avoid being foul in front of her, or if he really didn’t like calling his father crude names, even if they fit. Either way, it only made her more certain Jace Rob—Cahill was exactly the guy she remembered. The good guy she remembered.
Unfortunately, she thought as she left him to get settled, that also meant he was still the guy she’d had her first-ever serious crush on. The guy whose thick-lashed eyes had stirred her to sighs, and whose lean, broad-shouldered body had caused feelings in her she hadn’t even recognized. The guy all others since had had to measure up to, and usually failed.
And from what she’d seen—and felt—so far, that hadn’t changed a bit.
Jace listened to her footsteps as she went back down the hall. He was feeling a little off balance, here in this house where he’d spent many hours as a kid. It had been a revelation to him then, that not all parents fought constantly, that in some homes, children were appreciated and encouraged by their father, not a nuisance to be rid of as often as possible.
His own heartfelt plea as he stood over the shards of the flower pot he’d inadvertently shattered with the baseball he and Cory had been tossing. Cory had told him to burn it in and he had, but Cory had panicked at the last second and dodged away.
He remembered cringing when Cory’s father had crouched before him.
He remembered the shock that had filled him at that moment, that not only was Mr. Grant not going to scream curses at him, but that he was still welcome in his house. Remembered even more the look in the man’s eyes, the look he hated and only later had come to recognize as pity.
A wave of weariness swept over him, and he sat on the edge of the bed. It had been a long haul just to get here, and he was afraid Rafe might have been a bit optimistic about him being able to stay awake until he took over. He wondered what the guy was doing, suspected it had something to do with that industrial-strength laptop he’d seen in the car that looked like it could withstand a direct hit from a hand grenade.
The urge to lie down, just for a moment, nearly swamped him. But he was afraid if he did he would be asleep before he hit the pillow.
Damn, that made it sound so real. He’d known Cassie was scared, but it hadn’t really seemed possible that she was in real danger until Rafe had said that. He was taking this very seriously, and given his demeanor and that look in his eyes, Jace guessed he knew what he was talking about.
He stood up abruptly before that pillow could lure him in. He opened his pack and started pulling out what was there. He’d packed light, so there wasn’t much, and what there was needed washing after the long trek. Maybe he could do that here, if Cassie didn’t mind.
It hit him then, and his head came up. He looked around the room. The walls were a neutral cream, with splashes of green and blue—the throw pillow on the chair, the vase on the dresser and the geometric pattern of the comforter on the bed. But in his mind’s eye it was a pale green, with white shelves on that wall, full of books almost to the ceiling. And that silly, droopy stuffed dog on the top shelf. He’d always thought of him as standing guard over her precious books.
Belatedly what she had meant when she’d talked of moving into the master bedroom registered. This had been Cassie’s room. He’d only seen it a couple of times, and that had been from down the hall at Cory’s room, when the door happened to be open. And once when he’d come out and caught her peeking out into the hallway, as if to see if anyone was around. When she’d seen him, she’d gasped and darted back inside and closed the door.
That was the first time he’d thought maybe Cory was right about Cassie having a crush on him.