A Family Affair: Summer: Truth in Lies, Book 3 (4 page)

She couldn’t relax. She’d tried, but the attempts were more stressful than a red-eye to
Hong Kong. The very word
relax
signified a release of control, a giving up of carefully constructed defenses, like denial and self-preservation. Once that happened, then good old introspection snuck in, taking over her brain and her memory until all that remained was the truth and with that the by-products of that truth: remorse and guilt.

Relaxation gave a person too much time to think. It was as bad as analyzing oneself and one’s motives, which she’
d spent a full year doing. Books, lectures, classes, even three sessions with a therapist, had rendered the same answer, the one she ignored. What was the point of confronting something that couldn’t be changed? The pain would still be there, the wounds newer, more severe. The regret, endless.

And the results would still be the same. JJ was dead. Cash was gone. Her choices could not be undone, no matter how many books she read or therapists she saw. The only way she could breathe day in, day out, was to obliterate the past and avoid as many situations as she could involving couples, families, and children. That wasn’t always possible, but with enough practice, she’d gotten quite good at extricating emotion from situations, which earned her a reputation as cold and uncaring.

At least with a reputation like that she wasn’t in danger of having her life crushed again. Tess threw the brochure aside and rifled through the others. The Grand Canyon. Australia. India. New Zealand. She pushed them all aside. She needed work. Long hours. Deadlines. Time zone changes. Damn Melanie and her six-month non-compete clause. Maybe she should call her mother and invite her to Virginia. They could head to D.C., tour the Capitol and the Smithsonian—but only for a few days.

She
didn’t like to surround herself with her mother’s scrutiny, and though Olivia Carrick was never obvious about it, there were semitransparent cues during their monthly phone conversation: a long pause when Tess told her where she’d been, a hitched breath after the mention of someone’s grandchild, a casual and recurring remark about family. Olivia had very specific opinions about her daughter’s life and how she should be living it. Or rather, how she
shouldn’t
be wasting it selling lipstick.

Tess chose to ignore the subtleties and limit the time she spent with her mother. Instead, she sent gifts
: a watch, a mixer, a sweater. Money for a new washer. She was debating a slow cooker for her mother when the doorbell rang. She slid off the couch and made her way to the front door. Maybe Melanie had reconsidered her position on the non-compete clause and would—

“Ramona?”

Cash’s aunt
stood on the other side of the door, her dark eyes piercing Tess with determination and purpose. Eight years had streaked her black hair with gray, shifted her complexion to sallow, morphed her body from curvy to plump. Her clothes were still dark and severe, her bosom larger than Tess remembered, her middle larger, too. She moved her head and the gold hoops she always wore swayed against her neck, but it was her eyes that held Tess. Deep, dark, soul-searching eyes that spotted truth and lies.

“I’ve come about my nephew.”

Cash
.

Fear shot through Tess and
crumbled years of denial. “Has something happened to him?” Ramona ignored the question and stepped inside, dominating the room with her presence. She would not travel hundreds of miles, or worse, breathe the same oxygen as Tess if she had a choice. Something
had
happened to him, and it was bad. But what could Ramona possibly want with her?

“Please. Have a seat.” Tess
tried to remain calm.
Don’t let her see how much this news has upset you. Play it cool
. She cleared her throat and sat on the couch next to the rocking chair Ramona had chosen. When the woman’s gaze landed on the scattered brochures, Tess gathered them up, muttering, “They’re for a friend.”

“Cash
was shot. He wasn’t even on duty, just pumping gas when he witnessed the robbery and…tried to intervene.” She paused, her lips flattening before she pushed out the next words. “He was shot in the shoulder and chest. He lost a lot of blood.” Another pause, a sharp intake of breath. “He’s back in Magdalena. He’s had therapy but he’s very weak and…and not like the Cash I remember.”

Tess clasped her hands in her lap so hard her fingers hurt. “Will he be all right?”

His aunt shrugged. “What does that really mean? The doctors say he’ll recover, with minimal limitations. But he’s different.” She sucked in a breath, frowned. “He’s not the same Cash.”

“I’m sorry.”
That was the second reference Ramona made to Cash being different. What exactly did she mean by that?

“There’
s more. He says the incident is all a blur and refuses to talk about it. Thank God there were eyewitnesses who saw the whole thing and could get to him, or…” her voice trailed off. “He’s refused counseling and is on leave from the force.” She studied Tess, letting the silence fill the room. Tess fidgeted, clasped her hands tighter, and looked away. She had more questions about Cash, so many of them, but if she started asking, she wouldn’t stop, and the pain of asking would take over and suffocate her.

“I
was with him at the hospital and I stayed in that chair until I knew he was going to make it.” Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry. “He would wake in the middle of the night and cry out. Always the same thing. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t.” Her voice grew stronger, zeroing in on Tess. “The truth often reveals itself when we are weakest or most vulnerable. I didn’t want it to be so, but there it was.”

“
There what was?” Cash used to say his aunt had a sixth sense about people and could often tell when something was about to happen before it did.

She sighed.
“You. He called your name. Such pain and torment, and there was nothing I could do but hold his hand and listen. I witnessed a broken man and it tore at my soul as surely as if the crows had pecked it apart. I vowed if he lived, I would find a way to make him whole again, no matter what I had to do or how many bargains I had to make.” Her dark gaze pierced Tess. “And I plan to keep that vow.”

Cash had called her name
. Perhaps she hadn’t been the only one hurting all these years. Perhaps Cash had known his own pain, had wished things were different. Had missed her even though she’d pushed him away. The knowledge made her dizzy and nauseated. “I’m so sorry.”

Ramona ignored her. “
You need to come back to Magdalena and make him whole again.”

“What? I can’t—”

“You’re responsible for that boy’s pain and you’re going to take it away.”

“You can’t be serious.”
This
was why Ramona Casherdon had traveled hundreds of miles to see her? Did she think a personal visit could persuade Tess to agree to what would certainly be a disaster on so many levels?

The woman’s lips tilted at the corners in what could almost be considered
a smile. “I’m very serious. You’ll return to Magdalena, make Cash believe you’ve had an ‘awakening’ after learning of his near-death experience. You’ll stay by his side; you’ll make him care about living again.”

“I can’t do that.”
I can’t see Cash, look in his eyes, remember how things were…

Ramona lifted the latch on her purse and removed a folded piece of paper. “You sent Cash a letter a few months after he left.” She paused,
lifted a brow. “I know it was returned to you, but not before I read it. Here.” She held the folded paper out to Tess. “Would you like to refresh your memory?”

Tess sipped in breaths of air, her eyes on the paper. The truth and the destruction she’d caused lay in the folds of that paper. She shook her head. “No.”

Ramona returned the letter to her purse and continued. “I’ll expect you back in Magdalena within the week. You can call your mother and I’m sure she’ll tell you about Cash, since the whole town is buzzing about it. There’s your opportunity to say you’re coming home.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I’m saving my nephew. And if you don’t want me to blast the contents of that letter all over town, you’ll do as I say.” Her voice dipped, softened. “Your poor mother would never recover.” Pause. “Word has it she’s not well.”

“What do you mean?” She’d spoken with her mother last week and Olivia had sounded
as matter-of-fact as always.

Cash’s aunt shrugged. “She has to have some testing done.
Could be nothing, or it could be something. Either way, do you want this on your conscience?”

“Of course not
, but even if I agree, what makes you think Cash wants to see me or would consider giving us another chance?”
Another chance with Cash…
Just thinking the words made her queasy.

“Oh, he won’t
want to have anything to do with you, but you’ll figure it out. He can say whatever he wants, but the truth was in those words he moaned while he was in pain. Your name.” Her mouth pinched as she spit out the next words. “He’s never gotten over you.”

Ramona actually believed her plan would work. But to what end? “What happens if I do
‘figure it out’ and he recovers? Then what? Do you really think we could just pick up where we left off eight years ago?”

The woman did smile this time, but it was cold and brittle. “Of course not. We both know that’s not possible, don’t we? Once my nephew is strong
again, you’re going to tell him the truth so he can move on and find someone to share his life with and it won’t be you. Cash deserves to know he was going to be a father, and he deserves to know why he wasn’t. When you tell him, I think we both know what’s going to happen.”

Another day in hell. The hours ran together with nothing to pull him through but the next pill. People called this living? Right. His aunt might think Magdalena and a pain-in-the-ass physical therapist would heal him, but he was past healing, even if she refused to see it. And it had nothing to do with a beat-up body and two bullet holes.

He’d only come back because he couldn’t stand to hurt his aunt
. Again. The woman had endured enough grief these past years, and he was the cause of most of it. The least he could do was stay alive for her, but there was a lot more than a messed-up shoulder and a wound in the chest holding him down, threatening to screw him up for good.

He did not want to remember what happened that night, did not want to think about the kid in the
baggy pants and hoodie who reminded him so much of JJ that for a split second, Cash thought it
was
JJ. And that’s why he’d hesitated and ended up with two bullet holes in his body. The kid wasn’t JJ and he wasn’t robbing a convenience store with an unloaded gun. He’d nailed Cash and by the time the paramedics arrived, there’d been enough blood on the cement to fill a bucket.

But Cash wasn’t going to tell
anybody why he’d hesitated, or that he
had
hesitated. They wouldn’t believe him anyway, not when he had the quickest reaction time and deadliest aim on the force. Saying he paused was like saying a sharpshooter had decided to get a bead on a field of flowers instead of his target. Never happen. Only it had. A cop was still a cop, on duty or off, so that was no excuse either.

W
hat if it happened again? What if his partner took a bullet because of Cash’s hesitation? Ben Reed was strong, agile, ex-military, but he deserved a partner who didn’t let a screwed-up past threaten his safety. In the eight years since JJ’s death, Cash had never been in a situation that so closely mimicked the one that night, but now that he had, how long would it be before the situation recreated itself? Would it never happen again, would it happen twice, five times?

He could
n’t risk that and that’s why he was so royally messed up right now, why the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish and doubt tearing at his body.

By the time Gina Servetti arrived
, the pill had smoothed things out just enough to pretend civility and execute a plan to get rid of her. He’d tried belligerence, moodiness, plain anger, and sulking, but none of those stopped the damn woman from her mission. He had not tried sexual banter.

“Nice shirt. Why don’t you open the first three buttons?” Her dark head jerked up from the notes in her hand. Aha. He caught the faint pink slithering up her neck, across her chest. Now he was onto something. Ten minutes and a few crass remarks would send her flying out the door.

Cash worked a lopsided smiled through the drugged haze and patted his bed. Hospital issue, rolled into his old room, compliments of Ramona and Magdalena General Physical Therapy. “Unbutton your shirt. Come get cozy with me.”

Her dark eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. She’d be a real looker if she’d get rid of the “He done me wrong” pissed-off attitude. Didn’t she know relationships were screwed from the start?

“Gina?”

“Stop it, Cash.” She eye
d him with equal parts curiosity and something else. He couldn’t quite make it out. Interest? Women couldn’t resist his smile, or his charm. Even with a busted-up body and a screwed-up head, those nurses and therapists still wanted him. And once in a while, he’d relented and taken what they offered. That had been an acrobatic feat, especially in a hospital, but he’d complied and they’d pulled the curtains and got what they wanted, or said they did. The sex was never the question. It was the other they expected, and when they didn’t get it, even though he’d told them it wasn’t there, they’d gone away crying or mad.

Hadn’t he told every single one of them it would never be about more than
sex?

Thanks to his ex-fiancée. She’d taken his honor and his heart and crushed them. Just as well. Being unencumbered
had made him a better policeman. And now, indirectly, she’d taken that from him, too. The pure fact that he’d lost the choice created a slow burn in his gut that spread and made him wish he could obliterate
her
from his brain—permanently.

Wham!
Something smacked the side of his head. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Gina went all soft and innocent on him. “Sorry. I guess I was so caught up in your attempted seduction, I got carried away.”

Sarcasm at its finest. Cash closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe if he pretended she wasn’t here…

“Really, Cash? You’re going to resort to childish pranks?”

He didn’t answer.

“Fine. You tell your aunt she’s wasti
ng her hard-earned money on you.”

One eye flew open. She knew how to get to him.
His aunt had insisted he continue his sessions in Magdalena even though the physical therapy department in Philly had discharged him. Ramona thought his despondent attitude and continual grogginess necessitated more therapy. What she didn’t know was that the attitude and the grogginess had more to do with his mental state and the pills he’d been taking and less to do with his beat-up body. Still, he’d have to get himself straight and soon because he could not have Ramona shelling out money she didn’t have for therapy he didn’t need. “Okay. Confession time.”

“Is this where you’re going to tell me you don’t really need therapy? I figured that out on the initial assessment, but what I didn’t understand was why you couldn’t navigate basic weights and exercises.” Her gaze narrowed on the bedside stand and the bottle of pills resting there. “There’s your problem
, isn’t it?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I might have taken an extra pill now and again to help me along.”

“Help you along? With what exactly? Life? Your moods?” Her voice escalated with uncharacteristic emotion. “Addiction creeps up on you; a pill here and there, to smooth out the rough spots and before you know it, there are more rough spots than smooth ones. Stop now. Get out of bed and start moving.”

“Okay, stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling.” Her voice quieted. “I just don’t want to see you mess yourself up.”

She spoke like she’d
seen somebody get messed up. Had she? He wasn’t about to ask, even if he wanted to know. “Let’s at least finish up the next two sessions so my aunt doesn’t get suspicious. But we have to have rules.”

She eyed him. “Rules?”

“I don’t want to hear about town chit-chat. No telling me about Pop Benito’s new tennis shoes. Or how The Bleeding Hearts Society planted a pansy outside of Lina’s Café. And I sure as hell don’t want you gushing about how Nate Desantro has turned human now that he has a beautiful wife and a baby. I don’t care. Got it? And I don’t want to hear about it.”

Gina
shrugged. “I don’t gush. Ever.” She wrote a few things in her chart. “He even smiles now.”

“Who?”

“Nate Desantro. Laughs, too. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.”

“He deserves it.”

“Yes, he does after carrying too much on his shoulders for so many years. And then that first wife.” Gina Servetti scowled and helped him sit on the edge of the bed. “She was a piece of work. Patrice. The town was glad when she left. But Christine is perfect for him, though you know who she is, right? And how my cousin almost broke them up last year?”

Despite his
desire to shut down Gina’s tales, this last piece intrigued him. Nate had been married before? Patrice? Patrice who? And then some cousin tried to come between Nate and his new wife? That had to be Natalie Servetti, sex in stilettos.” She was like that even in high school. What the hell had Nate done? And why should he know who Christine was? And…Damn it, she’d yanked him right in. Well, he’d yank himself right back out.

“Enough, or I swear to God, I’ll boot you out of her
e.”

She ignored him and handed him a weight. “
Eight reps. Nice and slow.”

Six mont
hs ago, he’d been able to curl fifty-pound dumbbells, but apparently lying in bed decreased muscle tone, even in healthy body parts. Screw that. He increased his reps. He was not going to turn into a scrawny—

“Easy. You have to build up to it.”

The doctors told him he’d lost a lot of blood and it would take time to heal, but for someone who demanded endurance and perfection from his body, struggling to lift a puny weight was pathetic.

“I know why you don’t want to talk.”

He shot her a look. “Good.”

“It’s because of Tess.”

Finally. He knew it was coming from the first time she walked into his room six days ago. What he hadn’t known was how she’d broach the subject, or if she’d mention it at all. She could gather information and fill Tess in on the sad state of her ex-fiancé. If Tess even cared, which she probably didn’t. Still, he did not want Tess Carrick to know he’d been reduced to a mess of body parts that didn’t work like they used to and a brain that couldn’t forget.

“I definitely don’t want to talk about her.”

“Switch hands and repeat.” She shrugged and met his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about her either. Bree and I haven’t seen or heard from her since the funeral.”

He wanted to ignore
that, but how could he? “You three were inseparable. Hell, I thought you were best friends.”

Her voice dipped. “I thought so, too.”

***

Nate
bounded up the steps and opened the front door. Christine sat in the rocking chair Harry had sent them, with Anna cradled in her arms. She smiled when she saw him and his chest squeezed with pure joy. Would he ever get used to watching his wife and daughter? He doubted it. God had given him a second chance and he’d spend the rest of his life being grateful for it.

“Hi.” He leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the mouth. Then he planted a kiss on the baby’s forehead.

“Hi. She just fell asleep. A full tummy does that to her every time.”

Nate stroked Christine’s cheek, trailed a finger to the opening of her unbuttoned shirt and pushed the fabric aside. He’d never thought breastfeeding was beautiful, even sexy, until he watched his wife feed their child. “I think she had a better lunch than I did.” He kissed the
satin skin above her left breast, and whispered, “Definitely.”

“Busy day?”

He shrugged and dragged the ottoman closer so he could sit next to her. “I spent the morning at the shop and ran out to Will’s after lunch. He had a few questions and I’m trying to finish up the cradle for Jack’s daughter.”

Two months ago
, Will Carrick had offered his barn to Nate as a workshop. There was plenty of room, power, a toilet and fridge, and it negated the need to use Gino Servetti’s workshop—and run into Natalie Servetti. Word had it she was back in town with a story and a tear about how she’d been coerced by Gloria Blacksworth to destroy Nate’s marriage. Right. That woman had a story all right—big, bold, and packed with lies.

“No news about your friend?”

Nate stroked the dark, fine wisps on Anna’s head. Soft, delicate, so very fragile. “I’ve called four times, but Ramona said he’s not seeing anyone. Mom said Pop told her the only person who’s gone in the house besides Ramona is Gina Servetti to do his therapy.”

She smiled. “Pop would know.”

“He gets his information directly from Ramona and she has to know he’s going to spread the word. Maybe that’s exactly what she wants him to do.” He shrugged. “Cash can only play the hermit card so long before the town stampedes the house. One way or the other, I’m going to see him. We have a lot to talk about.” Like why Cash had avoided him after the shooting and left town without a word. Or how eight years had passed with nothing but distance and dead silence between them. They’d been best friends, two angry young men trying to figure their way out of hurt and disillusionment. When Cash’s parents took off and his aunt moved in, he started hanging around with older boys, like Nate, trying to prove himself. Those attempts got him a bloody nose and swollen lip more than once, but he kept coming back. The damn guy just never gave up.

Until JJ’s
shooting. He lost a fiancée, a home, a reason to believe he deserved better. Nate blamed Tess Carrick for pushing his friend away. What kind of person accuses the man she’s about to marry of cold-blooded murder? It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true or that she’d most likely regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth. She’d said it, Cash had heard it, and the town remembered it. End of story. There had been an investigation that turned up nothing and three hours after the announcement, Cash was gone.

“What will happen to him?”

“I don’t know. He’ll rest up here awhile, then maybe go back to Philly. It’s really up to him.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the middle of her palm. “I’m betting he’s as lost and angry as I was before you came along.”

Her lips twitched. “No one was as lost or angry as you were, Nathan Desantro.”

He smiled. “True.”

“Can you help him?”