WALKER MOVED THROUGH the large space. He wasn’t sure where he was-maybe a ballroom in a hotel. There were so many lights everywhere-lights and noise and the sound of women’s laughter.
He circled the crowd, aware of being out of place. He was thirsty and while there was a glass in his hand, he couldn’t lift it to his mouth and drink. Was it too heavy? No, it was his arm. He couldn’t move his arm.
The lights faded, then blurred. He couldn’t see the edges of the room, only the women. All of them suddenly facing him, staring, pointing. They were angry-he knew that much-but he couldn’t say why.
“I don’t know Ben,” one of them said, and he recognized her from one of his many “Ashley” visits.
“I don’t know Ben,” another said. He remembered her, as well.
Then he realized he knew all of them. He’d spoken to them and they hadn’t been able to help him.
“I don’t know Ben.”
They repeated the words over and over until he thought his head would explode.
“I don’t know Ben. He has no one. No one, not even you. You let him die. It should have been you. It should have been you.”
The voices got louder and louder. He tried to answer, to tell them he already knew it should have been him, but he couldn’t speak. He lashed out, but the women only came closer and closer. Finally he took a step back and then he was falling and falling only to wake up on the hard floor, his heart racing, his body aching and his soul dark and battered from the truth.
It should have been him.
ELISSA PARKED across the street from the familiar house and looked at the rambling two story where she’d grown up.
There were changes. The once-green siding was now beige. The pine trees flanking the west side of the property had grown even taller and the small Lexus parked in the driveway was nothing like the old Taurus station wagon she remembered.
Maybe she should have called, she thought as she turned off the engine. Maybe it would have been better to give her parents a little warning. The problem was, she hadn’t been able to figure out what to say. Just showing up would be shocking, but it would force a conversation.
She’d called Bobby earlier that morning and he’d told her both her parents planned to be home most of the day. So that was something. She wouldn’t be left standing alone on the front porch.
Knowing she was only wasting time, she pocketed her keys and walked to the front door where she rang the bell. She heard a faint “I’ll get it,” then the door opened and, for the first time in eight years, her mother stood in front of her.
Leslie Towers was just shy of fifty, with highlights in her brown hair and hazel eyes that Bobby had inherited. Elissa noticed a few more lines, but otherwise her mother looked exactly as she remembered her. Only more surprised.
“Hi, Mom,” Elissa said, wishing she hadn’t left her purse locked in her car. Holding it now would give her something to do with her hands. As it was she shoved them in her jeans’ pockets and tried to figure out what she should do next.
Tears filled her mother’s eyes and her mouth trembled. “Elissa?” she asked, her voice wavering. “Elissa, is that really you?”
Elissa nodded.
“Leslie, who is it?” her father asked as he walked through the living room. “I’m not buying any more magazines. We already get too many as it-”
He stopped next to his wife and stared. “Elissa?”
She nodded. “It’s me. A little older-and hopefully wiser.”
Her father, a tall man who wore glasses, reached toward her. “Elissa?” he repeated.
“Oh, Kevin,” her mother breathed. “She’s back.”
Suddenly Elissa found herself pulled into the house and into their embrace. She was hugged and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe, but breath didn’t seem important just then. She closed her eyes and felt as if she’d finally, finally come home.
There were tears all around. Elissa hadn’t expected to cry, but there she was. Bobby appeared and joined the group hug, then they separated and there was a moment of awkwardness.
“I don’t know what to say,” her mother admitted, staring at her. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“In the flesh,” Elissa said with a small shrug.
Her parents exchanged a glance as if not sure what to do next. They seemed happy, yet wary, which made Elissa wonder again if she should have phoned ahead and warned them she was coming.
“Let’s go in the kitchen,” her father said.
Her mother nodded, then led the way.
“Sit, sit,” her mother told everyone as she pushed Elissa into a chair at a glass-topped table. “I’m sorry. I’m in shock, I think. I can’t seem to figure out what to do next. Are you all right? Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” Elissa said, glancing around. Gone were the tile countertops and the harvest-gold appliances. Now the kitchen counters were dark granite and the ovens and cooktop a gleaming stainless steel. “You remodeled the kitchen.”
“About four years ago. I couldn’t stand scrubbing that awful grout or dealing with the stove anymore.” As she spoke, she pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses.
Elissa’s father took the seat across from hers and reached for her hands. “How are you really?” he asked.
The contact felt both familiar and strange. She squeezed his fingers. “I’m good, Dad. How are you?”
“Fine. Fine. Still at the bank, of course.”
“Your father’s been made district manager,” her mother said proudly.
“Wow, that’s great, Dad.”
Her mother carried the iced tea glasses to the table. “Come join us,” she told Bobby who hovered in the background.
He reluctantly took the fourth chair.
Elissa accepted a drink, then sipped while everyone stared at her.
There was a surreal combination of old memories and a new situation. She wasn’t sitting in her usual chair. The view was wrong, even discounting the remodel. But she couldn’t remember where she usually sat.
“You’ve grown up,” her father said.
“You’re so pretty,” her mother told her. “You’re all right? Healthy and everything? Do you have a job?”
“I’m good. I’m a waitress and I make jewelry on the side.”
Saying it all aloud made her want to cringe. She’d been raised to believe she would go to college and have a career, not work in a diner and barely get by. Still, she’d survived on her own under difficult circumstances and she refused to apologize for that.
“So you don’t need money?” her father asked.
Elissa stiffened. “No, Dad. I didn’t come here for money or anything. I wanted to get in touch with you.”
“Kevin, don’t,” her mother said. “Elissa’s back. That’s a good thing.”
“I know that,” her father said. “I’m happy. It’s just…” He frowned. “You were gone for so long. We didn’t know what happened to you. Your mother…”
“I missed you,” Leslie said, interrupting him and smiling. “Where do you live now? In Washington?”
Elissa remembered what Bobby had said about her mother having to go away for a rest. Had she had some kind of emotional collapse? Guilt settled in her stomach. If something had happened, Elissa’s disappearance was the reason.
“I live here. In Seattle.”
“Seattle?” Her mother’s mouth trembled. “So close. For how long?”
“A few years now.”
“But you n-never…” Leslie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I see.”
Elissa’s father released her hand. “You didn’t want to call and let us know you were all right? You didn’t think that was important?”
Bobby swallowed and stood. “That’s my fault.” He cleared his throat. “Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something. I’m really sorry. I know you’re going to be angry and upset and I can’t blame you. What I did was wrong.”
Both their parents stared at him. “This isn’t a good time, Bobby,” Leslie said, her voice shaking. “Not a good time at all.”
Kevin put his hand on her shoulder. “Just relax, Leslie. We’re fine. Everyone is fine.”
Bobby shifted his weight and looked as if he would rather be run over and left for roadkill than speak. “I, ah, I’m the reason Elissa never got in touch with you before.”
As Elissa still didn’t know how she felt about what Bobby had done, she didn’t feel the need to come to his rescue now. She kept quiet while he explained her phoning and what he’d told her.
Her mother turned back to her. “Elissa, no! How could you believe that of us? Of course we wanted to talk to you, have you come home. Do you know what we went through? Do you know how hard it was? How horrible?” She stood and faced her son. “Bobby, why? You saw. How could you have kept this from me?”
She took a step, then gasped and sank back in the chair. Kevin was at her side in an instant.
“Leslie?”
“I’m fine.”
Elissa half rose, then sat down. “Mom, are you all right?”
Her mother gave her a shaky smile. “Of course. This brings back so much. Don’t worry about me.”
The words said all the right things, but the darkness in her eyes told another story. Her leaving had changed everything, Elissa thought unhappily, and not for the better.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry I ran away. I should have called.”
“You should have come home,” her father snapped.
Elissa stiffened.
“She tried,” Bobby said. “Don’t blame her, blame me.”
His willingness to take all the responsibility surprised her. “It wasn’t just that,” she told her brother. “I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”
“I’m better, Kevin. I’m all right,” her mother said, then patted her husband’s hand. “It was that boy, wasn’t it? The one you were dating.”
“Mitch,” Elissa said. “Yeah, he’s the one I ran away with. We ended up in L.A.”
“I knew it,” her mother said, fighting tears. “I just knew it.”
“We looked in Los Angeles,” her father said. “There were too many kids down there. On the streets, in shelters.”
Elissa hated thinking what they must have gone through. “I wasn’t in either place. I lived with Mitch for a few months. Then we broke up and I got a job with another band.” She decided to gloss over the more sordid aspects of her earlier life. “It turns out I had a great knack for finding cheap accommodations and making other travel arrangements, so that’s what I did. I was paid in cash and usually rented a room in an apartment with a bunch of girls, so there’s no way you could have traced me.”
There was that look again, between her parents. What were they thinking? That she was nothing but a disappointment? That they’d expected no more of her?
“I can’t believe you thought we wouldn’t want to talk to you,” her mother said. “I loved you, Elissa. You were my daughter.”
Elissa did her best not to read too much into the past tense of the words. “I know, Mom. I was young and stupid and…” She almost said scared, but quickly changed it. “Confused. I felt a lot of guilt and what Bobby told me actually made sense at the time. Looking back, I know I should have asked more questions.”
Her mother pointed to the empty chair. “Sit down, Bobby. What you did was wrong, but we’ll talk about it later.”
Her brother did as requested, but he looked as if he wished he could disappear. For the first time since hearing his story, Elissa felt compassion for him. What he’d gone through couldn’t have been easy.
“I screwed up big-time,” she said honestly. “I’m so sorry. If I could change what I did, I would.”
Her mother attempted a smile. “It’s all right. You’re home. That’s enough, isn’t it, Kevin?”
Her father nodded slowly, as if he would need more convincing.
Elissa’s throat tightened. Somehow she’d expected open arms and unconditional acceptance. Not questions and a messy past.
Her mother drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. “So, what brought you back to Seattle?”
Interesting question, Elissa thought, not sure how much she wanted to tell her parents. “I got pregnant,” she said, knowing there was no point in hiding that. “That’s why I called home. I was scared…anyway, it all worked out.”
Her mother paled. “You have a baby? I have a grandchild?”
Elissa nodded. “Her name is Zoe. She’s five and about to start kindergarten. She’s wonderful, Mom. Smart and funny and curious about everything.”
“A grandchild? Oh, Kevin.” The tears started again.
“You named her Zoe?” her father asked, his voice a little warmer now.
“After Grandma Zoe.”
“She would have liked that,” he said gruffly.
“Who’s the father?” her mother asked. “I take it you two aren’t together anymore?”
“He’s dead,” she said, knowing there was no point in trying to explain the Neil portion of her life. Sometimes she still didn’t understand it herself.
“But he was a rock singer?” Her father asked the question in the same tone of voice he would use to ask if she recently picked up head lice.
“And a songwriter.” She drew in a deep breath. “I know I made a lot of mistakes. Everyone does-mine just had permanent consequences. But I survived. I have a good life. Zoe and I are happy together. I made it and I guess I owe a lot of that to what you taught me when I was growing up.”
“If you’d respected what we’d taught you-” her father said, but her mother cut him off with a shake of her head.
“What made you come back now?” her mother asked.
Elissa looked her brother. “Bobby hired a private detective to find me. He wanted me to know what he’d done and try to make things right. Once I knew you hadn’t turned your back on me, I wanted to get in touch.”
“Of course we wouldn’t turn our backs on you,” her mother said. “Elissa, you’re our daughter and we love you. We’ll always love you. No matter what.”
Would they? Did they? Then why had the detective who found her been hired by her brother rather than her parents? In L.A. she’d been living off the grid, but in Seattle she had a job, an apartment, credit cards. She wouldn’t have been that hard to track down. Neil did it on a regular basis. But they hadn’t.
She knew in her heart that if something had happened to Zoe, she would never have stopped looking, no matter what. So what had made that different for her parents?
ELISSA SPENT THE REST of the afternoon working on her jewelry and thinking about the meeting with her family. While they’d said all the right things and had expressed interest in meeting Zoe, she couldn’t help feeling that something was off.
Maybe it was her. Maybe her fantasy of the homecoming was so based in perfect television families that she couldn’t deal with reality. Maybe she was wishing for the moon.
Needing someone else’s counsel, Elissa waited until Zoe was asleep, then walked up to Walker’s apartment.
“I understand that we have an undefined relationship and that we both agree that we’re not getting involved,” she said when he’d opened his door. “But I like to think we’re friends, and right now I need someone to talk to, so you’re going to have to suck it up and be that person. Do you have a problem with that?”
He stared at her for a couple of seconds, grinned, then asked, “Do you want me to bring liquor?”
“Sure. If you have it.”
“I’ll be right down.”
He appeared at her front door less than a minute later. She sighed in appreciation at the bottles of vodka and tonic he brought nearly as much as the way he looked in worn jeans and a loose T-shirt. There was something to be said for a winning combination of potentially mind-numbing booze and male eye-candy.
“You have ice?” he asked.
“Always. I even have a lime.”
She led the way into the kitchen where she got out her ice tray, then collected two glasses. Her lime was a naked little thing, huddling in the fruit basket.
“I used the zest earlier,” she said as she sliced it into eighths. “We had Caribbean tacos for dinner. Lots of citrus.”
He poured, she squeezed, then they silently toasted each other. She took a drink, then sighed as the cold, tart drink settled in her stomach.
“Perfect.”
He led the way into the living room. When they were both settled on the sofa, he asked, “What happened?”
She took another drink. “I went to see my parents today. It was weird. Like being in a time warp. Everything was nearly the same, but it wasn’t. I felt uncomfortable and angry and confused. My mom is different. More emotionally frail. My dad was critical. I wanted a big party to celebrate my homecoming and all they had were questions.”
“In some ways it’s easier not to have to answer to anyone. Now you’re back in their lives. There are going to be explanations and misunderstandings. None of you are the same.”
“I get that. Time has passed. But I feel like everything is my fault. I’m the one who left and set this all in motion.”
“You’re only responsible for yourself.”
“Am I?” She clutched her drink in both hands. “I think my mom had a breakdown or something. That’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Her reaction to the situation is her responsibility.”
“Isn’t that like saying if I hit someone with my car, their injuries are their fault because they weren’t fast enough to get out of the way?”
“Not the same at all. Yes, you ran away and there were consequences. But you can only be blamed for some of them. If she lost it because you ran away, then she wasn’t strong in the first place.”
“That’s a little too tidy for me. What I did pushed her over the edge.”
“Why do you feel it necessary to take on all the pain?”
Good question. “Habit, maybe. I’m always the one responsible.”
“With you and Zoe, sure. But not anywhere else. I’m not saying you were right to run away. It was a dumbass teenage response to whatever was going on. But you made it and without a lot of outside help. That’s good. Yes, your parents suffered and you’re the reason. But you didn’t make your mother have a breakdown. There was something already in her that caused that.”
“I hope you’re right. My guilt card is pretty full.” She sipped her drink. “Family stuff is never easy.”
“I know.”
“You never talk about your parents. Just Gloria and the siblings.”
“Sounds like a rock band,” he said. “No parents. They died a long time ago. They weren’t very close. I guess they’d been in love once, but by the time I was aware of their relationship, they were just going through the motions. My dad drank a lot. I think it was to escape from his mother. My mom was quiet-sad, I guess. Gloria made her life hell in more ways than we’ll ever know.”
She hated thinking Walker hadn’t had a wonderful childhood. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I had my brothers and Dani. We were there for each other.”
“That’s something. I can picture the four of you banding together against the evil queen.”
He smiled. “No one ever called her a queen, but there were plenty of other names.”
“I won’t ask.”
“I stayed away from her as much as I could. So did Reid. Cal and Dani tried to make it work with her. Cal even went into the family business out of college. He lasted longer than I would have. Dani got her master’s and came back home, prepared to run the empire. Gloria stuck her in Burger Heaven and never let her out.”
“Why? Dani’s great. Please don’t tell me it’s a woman thing. That only men can run the company.”
Walker hesitated, then said, “Dani’s not a Buchanan. Our mother had an affair with some guy. Dani is the result. We knew, but Dani didn’t. Gloria couldn’t forgive her for not being a Buchanan. It’s the ultimate sin.”
“I’d never have guessed,” Elissa said, shocked by the revelation. “I won’t say anything, of course.”
“I appreciate that. The truth is coming out, but Dani’s still dealing with it herself.”
“Isn’t it funny how one moment in time changes everything? If I’d only come home after Mitch and I broke up. If one of my parents had answered the phone instead of Bobby.”
“If Ben hadn’t pushed me aside and taken that bullet.”
She looked at Walker and saw he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“How much do you think about that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It should have been me.”
“Why? Why do you think it was your time and not his?”
“Ben had something to live for.”
“Don’t you?”
Is that what caused Walker to hold back? He didn’t think he was worthy? She supposed it was possible, but why would he believe that? What had happened to put him on that path?
“I get by,” he said at last.
“You do more than that.”
He shrugged. “I’m running out of Ashleys. What if I don’t find her? I owe him that.”
“You’re trying. He would understand the effort.”
Walker finished his drink, then looked at her. “Ben was like a puppy. He was always sniffing around, wanting to be friends. He wanted to hang out together, do things.”
She read the truth in his eyes. “You didn’t.”
“He was a kid. We had nothing in common.”
“You feel guilty.”
“Maybe,” he admitted.
“Is finding Ashley going to make up for what you didn’t do while he was alive?”
“No,” he said simply, “but it might let me sleep at night.”
His pain called to her. Maybe it was a female thing. Maybe it was a mom thing. Or maybe it was just how she felt when she was around him. Regardless of the cause, she put down her drink and moved closer.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, cupping his face in her hands and staring into his dark eyes. “You didn’t kill him.”
“It should have been me.”
“You keep saying that. It’s not as if the bullet had your name on it. It was circumstances, a quirk of fate. Yes, it’s horrible that Ben’s dead, but your suffering doesn’t bring him back. Based on the little you’ve told me about him, he wouldn’t want you doing it, either.”
“I don’t know. I think he might get a kick out of it.”
“Don’t be smart with me, mister.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Or you’ll what?”
In less time that it took for light to travel across the room, the mood shifted. What had been friendly and sharing became charged with emotion and sexual energy.
She was aware of how close they were, how she leaned against him and how her fingers touched his face. She could feel his heat and the stubble on his cheeks. His gaze locked with hers, drawing her in, grabbing her with the erotic threat of never letting her go.
Suddenly she didn’t want to be let go. She was tired of being sensible and thinking things through. Yes, he was the wrong man, but so what? She was used to that. She would deal with the consequences later.
She shifted so that she was on her knees, then dropped her hands to his shoulders. At the same time, she leaned in and pressed her mouth against his.
He had to have known what she was going to do and for a second she wondered if he would resist. But the instant her mouth brushed his, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. Then she was sprawled across him, his tongue in her mouth and his hands everywhere.
He kissed her deeply, sensually, plunging into her as he mimicked the act of lovemaking. At the same time, he ran his palms up and down her legs. His long fingers seemed to touch every inch of her as they moved teasingly close to the apex of her thighs, then drifted away.
She clung to him, needing to hold something solid as her mind darted from sensation to sensation. She hadn’t been with a man since she’d left Neil and given birth to Zoe. Long-dead nerve endings exploded to life and begged for the sustenance of Walker’s touch.
Her breasts swelled and her nipples got so hard, they hurt. Between her legs she felt a gush of moisture. Her insides were heavy.
He broke the kiss and nibbled his way along her jaw. She tilted her head to give him more access, inviting him to continue. At the same time she longed to rip off her clothes so they could get right to it. She was ready-hell, she’d been ready for years.
He put his hands on her waist and urged her to sit up. Not sure what he was doing, she complied, only to have him shift toward the center of the sofa and then position her so she straddled him.
At first the beauty of the situation escaped her. Then, as she leaned in to kiss him and she felt his hands slide from her waist up her rib cage, it all became clear.
Even as his tongue circled hers, teasing, playing, inviting, he cupped her breasts. His large hands covered her curves. Exquisite pressure had her moaning. Every inch of her was so sensitized, she thought she might pass out from the pleasure of him touching her like that. When he brushed his thumbs against her nipples, it was all she could do not to scream.
Sensation rocked her. Her skin was on fire, yet she was so hungry, nothing was enough. She deepened their kisses, needing everything he had for her. He met her demands and clamped his lips around her tongue, then sucked hard.
More, she thought frantically. She needed more.
He read her mind, or maybe just the way she writhed against him. While he kept one hand on her breast, he moved the other between her legs.
Even through the layers of panties and jeans, she felt the pressure of his fingers. She pressed down and he pressed up and when he found that one spot of pleasure, she groaned.
A very tiny, sensible part of her brain told her this was not a good idea. That she would regret this later. But the part of her that had done without for so long didn’t really give a damn.
So when he unfastened the button on her jeans, she didn’t protest. And when he moved her to one side, she helped push them down. And when he slipped to the floor between her legs, turned to face her and bent low to kiss her intimately between her thighs, she could only breathe a prayer of thanksgiving.
The man knew what he was doing, she thought in relief as he pressed his tongue against her swollen center. He moved slowly, leisurely, forcing her to keep pace with him when her choice would have been to run as fast as possible to the finish.
He circled around, then returned to that one spot and began to lick it over and over. At the same time, he slipped a finger inside of her and rotated it.
One finger. That was all, but it was enough. Her muscles clamped around it and held on. Deep in her belly she felt a pulsing kind of tension. The kind that warned her she wasn’t going to hold on for very long.
“No,” she moaned. “Not yet.” She had to make this last longer than thirty seconds.
But she couldn’t. Not when he continued to rub his flat tongue against her sensitive flesh and she could feel his hot breath on her. Not when he thrust in and out of her, teasing her into an arousal that was surely going to make her explode.
She clutched the edge of the sofa and tried to think of something mundane. Laundry. Yeah, laundry. Then she imagined him taking off his clothes so she would do the laundry. She imagined him hard and naked and plunging into her and she was gone.
At the first contraction, she drew her legs apart, exposing all of herself to him. She moaned, she held in a scream, she begged him never to stop.
When she’d wrung every last bit of pleasure from the experience, she put her feet on the floor and wondered what on earth she was supposed to say. Getting naked hadn’t been on her to-do list, despite all the fantasies she’d had about him.
He rested a forearm on her bare thigh, kissed her belly and said, “I’d like to take credit for that, but I think it’s more a reflection of how long you’ve been out of the game.”
She felt a blush climbing her cheeks. “Yes, well, I’m sure it’s both.”
He rubbed his thumb across her mouth. “It just happened, Elissa. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Which meant what? That it didn’t mean anything to him or there was no pressure?
Her gaze dropped to his very obvious erection. “And for our second act,” she said lightly.
“No second act.”
He stood and then pulled her to her feet. She felt very strange, standing there naked from the waist down.
“I wanted to do that,” he said. “I don’t get to do it enough.”
“But…”
“No buts.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m a guy who doesn’t want to get involved. You’re not the fuck-and-run type.”
Okay, but who would be doing the running? Him or her?
“We can’t just leave you like that,” she said.
“I’ve been through worse.”
“But we could…” Her voice trailed off as she wasn’t sure what she was offering.
“No, we couldn’t. Trust me. This is better.”
And then he was gone. The front door closed behind him, leaving her feeling exposed in more ways than just being undressed.
What had just happened? How could he do that to her and just leave?