A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska) (18 page)

Then meltdown number two happened.

And this time no amount of cajoling was going to make a difference—Jennelle would not allow anyone near that room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

J
ENNELLE
LOCKED
THE
door behind her and ignored her children’s pleas to open the door, going to sit on Simone’s bed. Her entire body ached and she just wanted to close the door on everything that was happening that felt out of her control. As she always did, she allowed the energy of what she believed was Simone’s spirit soothe her ragged nerves. No one understood a mother’s agony at losing a child. No one understood that it never went away. It was a dull, permanent ache that pounded away at her nerves and her sanity until she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t suffer this horrible pain. So when the pain became unbearable she always came here.

In this room she could forget that her life was falling apart more rapidly than she could piece it back together again. In here was her sanctuary.

“Mom, please open the door.” Miranda’s plaintive tone reached Jennelle through the thick oak. “Don’t do this. We were doing so well.”

She could hear the disappointment in her daughter’s voice but Jennelle couldn’t deal with that right now. It was too much. Everything was too much to bear at the moment. Jennelle closed her eyes and breathed deep the quiet of the room, picturing in her mind her youngest daughter’s smile and sparkling eyes. Lord, she’d been such a beauty. Maybe that had been her downfall. Boys had always flocked to the girl.

Too many nights Jennelle had lain awake fretting that she’d somehow missed the warning signs somewhere. Maybe if she’d been less lenient with Simone, she’d still be here. Maybe if she’d refused to let her and Miranda get a place together, she’d have been home that night. Or maybe if she and Zed hadn’t been so adamant that all the children work for their own car, Simone wouldn’t have had to rely on her sister for a ride home that night. The multitude of maybes wore on Jennelle’s soul like a collar cinched too tight.

She picked up a framed photo of Simone and her girlfriend, Zoe. They’d been inseparable, those two. Until Simone had died and then Zoe had slowly stopped coming by. It was as if Zoe hadn’t been able to handle seeing the hole that Simone had left behind. Jennelle hugged the photo to her chest, catching her breath as tears robbed her of coherent thought. They wanted to tear down this room and take Simone from her. This was all she had of her baby girl. Everything— everyone—was gone.

This room was all Jennelle had left and right now, she wanted to die in it.

The insistent knocking on the door had stopped and sudden silence followed. Jennelle waited, cocking her head subtly to listen for the sounds of people but she heard nothing. It was as if everyone had evacuated the house. Was it too much to hope for? Jennelle swallowed and hugged the picture frame closer. And then she heard the most unlikely of voices.

“Jen...open the door.”

Zed? A lump formed instantly in her throat and she couldn’t speak. Was that her husband? No, that wasn’t possible. She was losing her mind. Her husband was not here. He was choosing to rot in jail, far away from her and her troubles. “Come now, Jen...open this door.”

The quiet authority in her husband’s voice was impossible to ignore. It’d been so long since Zed had shown an ounce of interest in anything that she’d forgotten that at one time he’d been the solid head of the household. “Zed? Is that you?”

Only Zed called her Jen. It was his nickname for her and always had been. She rose on unsteady feet and opened the door cautiously. A tiny cry followed when she saw her husband, a man she’d loved with all her heart since she was fifteen, standing there looking older than he ever had but with something in his gaze that had been missing for a very long time—quiet strength. “What are you doing here?” she dared to ask, lifting her chin.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” he admitted, reaching for her hand. “It’s time, girlie.”

A soft, vulnerable spot deep inside her trembled at the way he’d always been able to get through to her with so few words. This was Zed...the man she’d always known was the one for her and had been so lost without, but she wasn’t ready to leave that room. She shook her head as tears sprang to her eyes again. “I can’t.”

“You can.” He held out his hand, focusing his gaze on her. “We’ll do this together.”

“This is all I have of our little girl,” she said, her eyes streaming. Why didn’t anyone understand? “I can’t let her go.”

He shook his head gravely and pointed at his heart. “She lives here. Not in that room.”

And with that she crumpled, but Zed was there to catch her, pulling her tightly to him. She clung to him, sobbing big, ugly tears that poured out of her soul, lancing the wound inside her, until she couldn’t manage another drop of moisture, and even then her shoulders shook with the magnitude of her loss. “I miss her so much,” she whispered to her husband, forgetting that they were not alone, though everyone had respectfully gone outside to wait out the storm. “I want her back.”

Zed didn’t say anything, mostly because Jennelle knew he felt the same. She’d always known, just as he’d known her feelings, too, but neither acknowledged that simple truth to one another. “She was a strong girl. This is no way to honor her.”

Lord, she knew that. Deep in her broken heart, she knew. Simone would’ve been horrified at the way Jennelle and Zed had completely fallen apart. Jennelle buried her face against her husband’s chest. At one time he’d been robust and hale but time had taken its toll. Even though she felt the ridge of his chest bones under her cheek, she clung to him, desperate to feel him against her again. In his arms, she found the sanctuary she’d been trying to recreate with Simone’s room and shuddered with relief that he had returned to her. “What do we do now?” she asked, looking to him for guidance.

“We start over.” He motioned to their kids who were waiting outside anxiously. “And we stop fighting each other. Time to make amends. All of us.”

She nodded, the fight going right out of her. She was wrung out emotionally and didn’t have the strength to argue, not that she would’ve. For the first time in a long time, she had nothing to say.

* * *

W
ADE
SHARED
SHOCKED
looks with his siblings, and he knew they were all thinking the same thing and it was along the lines of “Holy shit” that their dad had suddenly shown up when all attempts to get him to budge had been met with futility. But something must’ve trickled down to that stubborn heart because here he was. When he emerged with his wife, Wade could only stare.

He looked to Trace, and Trace shrugged. “I’m guessing he finally took Rhett up on his offer to spring him.”

“I guess so,” Wade said, still amazed but so thankful. His father was probably the only one who could wrench Jennelle out of her funk. Morgan, sensing the window of opportunity had been flung open, motioned for the cleaners to continue with the cleanup and once again, people were scurrying to and fro, trying to beat the storm that seemed to be gathering power above them. They worked side by side, moving impossible amounts of junk, broken-down boxes and things best left unnamed as slowly but surely, the house became an empty but dirty shell.

“That’s about all we can do today,” Morgan said to everyone’s relief as they stretched sore muscles and wiped away sweat in spite of the bitter temperatures. “But this was an amazing job you all did today. Jennelle—” she turned to Wade’s mother and smiled “—you did a wonderful job pitching in and making this part of your process. How do you feel?”

“Tired but good,” Jennelle admitted, casting a shy look at her husband. “Real good.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow we do massive cleanup. From what the engineers tell me, there is no structural damage to the home—which is lucky because I’ve seen houses with so much damage there was no saving them. New paint, some new fixtures and new furniture and you’re going to be able to sleep in your own bed. Would you like that?”

Jennelle nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I’d like that very much. But where am I staying tonight?”

“I’ll spring for a hotel room for you both,” Wade offered. “Something tells me you two could use some private time to talk things out.”

Zed’s subtle nod of thanks caused a lump to rise in Wade’s throat, squeezing out any other words he might’ve said, but his dad understood.

Morgan smiled and said, “I’m very pleased with the progress today. I will see you all bright and early tomorrow, assuming the storm doesn’t dump a ton of snow tonight.”

Wade made a point to avoid watching Morgan go, even though his gaze stubbornly wanted to refuse. It wouldn’t do any good to let anyone else in on their little secret. He sure as hell didn’t want to explain to anyone something he didn’t understand himself.

“Dad, what happened?” Miranda asked, once it was just their family again. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy to see you here but...we all tried to get you out of that jail cell but you were stuck like glue.”

“Does it matter? He’s here now,” Jennelle said, speaking up in defense of her husband. “I don’t want any fighting.”

“Yes, it does matter,” Trace said. “And we’re not fighting. We’re asking a simple question. I think we’re entitled to that.”

A part of Wade wanted to side with their mother and just let it go but another part of him wanted answers, too.

“It’s cold and I’m frozen to the bone. Questions and answers can wait,” Jennelle said, putting her foot down. She looked to Wade. “We will happily take you up on that hotel room offer. The Orca has always had nice rooms and a very tasty continental breakfast, if I recall properly.”

“You got it, Mama,” Wade said, withholding a sigh. He could wait another day or two to get the answers and so could his siblings. He looked to his dad. “You driving?”

“You can drive,” Zed said, linking fingers with his wife in a protective manner that Wade recognized from his childhood. His parents had always been very affectionate, very touchy-feely. He couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t hugging or kissing and embarrassing their children with their antics. After Simone, that part of them had died, too. So many changes, so many hurts. He rubbed at his eyes, ready for this day to be done. “Let’s load up, then. I’m tired and ready to hit the shower.”

Miranda and Trace climbed into their respective vehicles and after one last look at the property, still shocked at the amount of trash that filled the bin, Wade did the same. It was definitely time to put a pin in this day.

It wasn’t until he had settled his parents into their hotel room and he’d showered himself and was heading to Morgan’s house that he realized something else was eating at him that was a foreign irritant, one that he’d never felt before. A sense of longing tugged at his thoughts, reminding him of everything he didn’t have in his life and hadn’t realized he wanted up until this moment. Family was everything. And he’d abandoned each and every one because he couldn’t deal with the pain.

But the rub? He loved his life in California. He enjoyed his work and frankly, he enjoyed the milder winters. He wasn’t much for the bone-chilling cold of Alaska anymore. Even though it snowed in Yosemite, there was a huge difference in the chill factor of thirty degrees versus five degrees. Hell, his first winter in Yosemite he thought it was downright balmy in comparison to what he’d been accustomed. He’d even been teased about his short-sleeve shirts while everyone else was bundled in wool scarves and turtlenecks.

He didn’t want to move back to Alaska but he also didn’t want to go back to the personal life he’d been living. Something had been missing for a long time and he’d been reluctant to admit it. Maybe that was why he’d been lukewarm about a commitment to Elizabeth because he didn’t trust letting someone get that close. He wanted what his parents had—that deep, enduring love that survived the ugliest moments, tarnished but still strong—but he had to be willing to let someone in first.

That was the key, right?

Yeah, just like closing your eyes was the key to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

M
ORGAN
’
S
NERVES
FLUTTERED
,
and she sipped her wine as her gaze found the clock to check the time again. Would he come? Had he changed his mind? The day had been terribly emotional. She wouldn’t begrudge him the need for some peace and quiet after everything that had transpired. But what an incredible breakthrough. As Jennelle’s psychologist she was pleased with the progress and she actually had hope that everything was going to fall into place for the Sinclair family now that some major hurdles had been achieved. She allowed the wine to sit in her mouth for a split second, savoring the faint woodsy flavor of the dry red before swallowing, closing her eyes briefly.
Just relax. Stop being so nervous. If he comes, fine. If not, oh, well. Not the end of the world.

But when the polite knock sounded at the door, her heart leaped and she couldn’t stop the grin that followed. When she opened the door, every rehearsed smile or sexy grin went out the window, and all she could do was bite her lip and undress him with her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admitted in a husky tone that sounded far more Rita Hayworth than she’d ever thought she was capable. But judging by the way he stepped over the threshold and immediately captured her mouth with his, he liked it.

Their tongues tangled as he leaned into her, bending her over his arm as he plundered her mouth like a man determined to taste her soul, and she shuddered with pure desire at his masculine touch. He vibrated with raw emotion that was heady and addictive, and she lapped at it like a kitten with a bowl of milk. Somehow her wineglass safely left her hand and she was lifted into his arms and carried without a sound to her bedroom.

For a moment she was unaware and didn’t care where they ended up but when he placed her gently on the bed, she realized she was in her own bedroom rather than the spare. A chill doused her ardor and she forced a light smile as she said, “I’m partial to the spare bedroom for our fun,” she said, hoping her request didn’t make her appear strange. Well, of course it was strange! If only she had the guts to admit that the reason she didn’t want to have sex with Wade in her actual bedroom was because David’s ghost still dominated the space. And the space in her head. Wade’s subtle frown confirmed her biggest fear, and she babbled a hasty explanation. “It feels so decadent and taboo to make love in a bed that isn’t your own.”

“Ahh, like hotel sex?” he surmised, and she bobbed a quick nod. With that understanding his grin returned, and he did an about-face and headed for the spare bedroom. She nearly shuddered with pure relief, but a sliver of guilt dogged her excitement. He deserved to know the truth about her and why she was so damn weird but she didn’t want to ruin what they had going on, especially since they were on borrowed time. The sharp realization that Wade was going to go back to California filled her with a sadness that was hard to hide.

“Are you okay?” Wade asked, gently placing her on the bed. “You seem a little off. We don’t have to do this if you’re not into it.”

The concern in his voice destroyed her. He was such a kind, giving man. He deserved far better than she could ever give him. Besides, he had enough on his plate; he didn’t need her drama, too.

Forcing a bright, seductive smile, she pulled him to her and sealed her mouth to his. She was going to enjoy every stolen moment to its fullest, and she wasn’t going to think about anything else. “Does it look like I’m not into you?” she asked, pulling away to stare into his beautiful, expressive eyes. She smiled as a pleased grin lifted the corners of his mouth as they fell back onto the bed. He towered over her and she framed his face with her hands, desperate to capture the moment and freeze it in her memory for later. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the eyes of a poet?” He chuckled and shook his head as she caressed him. “Well, you do. Someday you’re going to make one woman incredibly lucky.”

A shadow passed over his expression and she wondered what secrets Wade Sinclair carried in his heart. She wanted to know the story behind every scar, every whispered promise. But that wasn’t her place.

Tears stung her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. “Kiss me, Wade,” she urged him, desperately needing his touch to blot out the sadness that crept along the edges of her joy like a noxious fog on an otherwise beautiful landscape. Wade didn’t hesitate, slipping his tongue into her mouth to seek out hers, and they danced and tangled, building a passion that was so hot that it threatened to burn them both to cinders, and yet neither would ever dream of stopping. Morgan shuddered with feminine power as Wade plunged himself deep inside, a perfectly snug fit that wrenched groans of ecstasy from their lips as they lost themselves in the heady pleasure of giving over to a lover’s touch completely. Sweat beaded their bare skin and the musk from their lovemaking scented the room with passion and desire. They were cocooned in their own world of naked skin and ravenous need—and nothing else mattered. This was happiness, this was joy. Morgan wept with the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly pleasured by a man whose sole intent was to bring his woman to a clenching, shuddering conclusion before he tumbled into his own.

Minutes ticked by before Morgan could speak or breathe normally, and she was not alone. Wade collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said in a husky but happy groan. “I’ve never met a woman who matches me in the bedroom. It’s my dumb luck that you would be here in Alaska.”

She laughed softly, too sated to care about anything at the moment. Morgan rolled to her side to regard Wade with a silly smile. “You are ruining me for other men.”

“Really? Good.”

His answer sent a thrill chasing down her spine. For a second she could pretend that they had a future together. “Now is the time when you say that I’m ruining you for other women,” she teased, surprised when his smile faded. “I’m sorry...I was kidding. I don’t want to kill the moment between us,” she said, distressed.

Wade immediately kissed her fears away, murmuring, “You have ruined me for other women. That’s a fact. But you can see how that poses a problem for us both.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Can I share something personal with you?” he asked, and she quickly nodded, instantly aware and on alert. She desperately wanted to know who Wade Sinclair was beyond the surface but was that her right? Probably not, but she wanted to, anyway. Wade, seeing that he had her undivided attention, said, “I don’t know how you feel about this and I don’t know if I’m qualified to say I know what love at first sight feels like because I don’t know if I’ve ever truly been in love, but there’s definitely something between us that I don’t understand and it’s a pretty strong emotion. When I look at you, I feel...
home.
I know that doesn’t make sense,” he admitted as if embarrassed, and her heart leaped with wild abandon at his admission.

“It makes perfect sense,” she admitted in a soft voice, her pulse fluttering like a mad butterfly. “Because I feel the same.”

Crazy hope flared in his eyes before it dimmed as he asked, “So what does that mean for us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it can mean anything because we live in opposite worlds and the commute would be a bitch,” she admitted in a pained, wry tone.

“True enough.” He sighed and laced his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “You know, I’m not this guy who does spontaneous things like this with a near stranger. I’m the kind of guy who plans things out and does things that make sense. What we’re doing doesn’t make any sense whatsoever and yet, I crave it like a drug. Logic tells me I should put some distance between us but I can’t bring myself to do it. What does that mean, Doc?” he asked, half joking but clearly not entirely.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock,” she answered, not wanting to delve too hard into his motivations for fear of uncovering something she didn’t want to know. Morgan rested her head on his chest and lightly trailed her fingers down his belly to the coarse hair of his groin. His penis lay against the wiry patch of hair and she threaded her fingers through the hair idly. “Would you think it’s weird if I told you that I love the smell of a man’s groin area? It’s filled with pheromones that really do something for me.”

“I think that’s pretty damn sexy,” Wade admitted, and Morgan giggled when his formerly quiet and spent member began to slowly awaken again. “But then everything about you is damn sexy in my opinion.”

She glanced up at him. “Really? You’re not just saying that to get lucky again?” she teased.

“Well, there is that. But no, you’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met. And that’s incredibly good in my book.”

“
You’re
incredibly good in my book,” Morgan said, thrilling when his gaze darkened with fresh desire. He rolled her to her back and tortured her with slow, teasing kisses that ignited a need so hot that she didn’t think she could contain it within her body. She bucked and cried out as he held her down, anchored between her thighs so that she couldn’t escape the pleasure barreling down through her nerve endings, soaking her in sweet oblivion.

“Wade!” she gasped, sweat dampening her brow, gulping lungfuls of air as she came down from her cloud. Her heart hammered almost painfully against her breastbone, but her body was numb to anything but the wonderful pleasure still radiating from her clitoris as her womb continued to tighten in soft, receding waves.

“Ohh, Wade...”
I think I love you.
She bit back the words before they escaped her mouth but it’d been so close. Fear of saying something so personal and revealing effectively quelled the feel-good vibrations thrumming through her body, and she quickly rose from the bed with a hasty “be right back” thrown over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Morgan flipped the light and stared at herself in the mirror, almost unrecognizable in the fluorescent light. Her hair, normally coiffed into submission, hung in wild strands that practically screamed
I’ve been rolled hard
and it was good,
and a tiny laugh escaped when she realized in her entire marriage to David, not once did she feel this free, so filled with delicious abandon.

David... What a number he’d done on her. How had she gotten so twisted up and turned around with that man? She’d been sold a bill of goods with that one. She’d mistakenly thought she was marrying a good man with traditional values but instead, she’d hitched her wagon, as her dad would say, to an abusive asshole. And even though he was dead, he still ruled her life with an iron fist.

Because you let him.

That tiny voice spoke quietly but with authority and it was true. She allowed her memories of the past to mess with her present and it was time to let it go. Remy would be so proud. This was a breakthrough. She could feel it. Whatever had been wrapped so tightly around her soul had snapped, and she could breathe again. Sure, that restrictive band had been metaphorical but it’d felt tangible, too. There’d been times when she couldn’t draw a deep enough breath and actually suffered anxiety when she thought of David. But he was gone. And he was never coming back. Never again would she tremble in fear at the sound of the front door opening, mentally checking everything that he insisted had to be done before he came home from work, or fretting over if his meal was prepared to his specifications. Done. No more.
Finit.

Hallelujah.

A smile found her mouth. She could take the next step. Maybe even with Wade. What did that mean? She wasn’t sure but she was willing to take that first, tentative step.

She leaned toward the mirror, fixing her stare on herself, holding her gaze to say in a fierce whisper, “David doesn’t live here anymore. He’s not welcome in your house or your heart. For God’s sake, let him go.”

Pulling away, satisfied, she flipped the light and exited the bathroom.