Final Mend (19 page)

Two weeks. Two weeks before he saw Amy again.

Not that these past few days hadn't been great. He and Winona spent every moment together and he talked to Amy every evening on the phone, so he knew she was okay. But it didn't help ease the hurt in his heart.

Brandon was still dead. His killer hadn't been found.

Daily life without Brandon and Amy painted a bleak and dismal future. He didn't know if he could go back to that life. He enjoyed it here and would like to see where his relationship with Winona would lead. Her family made him feel whole again. But right now he felt like his life was on hold, and he didn't know how to handle that.

Without Winona, he wouldn't have been able to handle himself waiting to see Amy. Hell, without Garret, he'd never get to see Amy in the first place. He could stay closer to Amy in Wyoming until her visit. Go on his meets or travel across the country or start the numerous projects he never had time to finish. But none of those options appealed to him without Winona by his side.

That could pose a problem in the future.

Right now, there was no place he'd rather be. The outskirts of Tanyon lent an outdoor playground like nothing he'd ever seen in all his travels. Deep canyons, wide rivers, and fluorescent waterfalls along a mountain backdrop. He wasn't ready to go home, but he'd do anything to have Brandon and Amy with him.

Jogging down the mountain, he returned to his bike he'd propped against a tree. He grabbed a bottle of water he'd kept in his backpack, took a long sip, and sent a quick message to Winona that he was coming down and would be back soon. The slopes he'd chosen were treacherous, and there was no point in playing stupid.

Hours had passed since he'd last seen Winona, and he was starting to miss her. Beauty surrounded him on all sides, green foliage rising up with the blues of the mountains, rock sloping deep into the canyons and hills. He'd canceled his upcoming triathlons but wanted to stay prepared for them. Plus, this kind of exercise eased his mind like nothing else.

Well, nothing except for seeing Winona in those panties when he opened the door to her condo. A T-shirt and silky, lacy panties.

“Hey, woman.” He slipped inside, shut the door, and locked it behind him. She'd given him a key, which was more serious than he needed a relationship to be right now, but he'd accepted it. Even enjoyed it way more than he should.

What would he do when this was all over? Where would he go? Who would he be?

Winona barely looked at him as she breezed through the living room. “Hey. Sorry, I was trying to find my favorite pants and they were still in the dryer.”

Jake shrugged as he eyed her. “No worries. No need for them anyway.”

She smiled a brittle smile, and didn't approach him as she dashed into the laundry room and came out wearing her jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped, and a T-shirt. He halted her progress to the bedroom and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you in a hurry?” he asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Is everything okay?”

She barely looked at him, and he could tell she was lying when she said, “Yes. Everything's great.”

Jake scowled and dropped his hands, stepping away. “No, it isn't.”

He went to the kitchen for his post-workout protein drink. Grabbed the blender, threw in his protein powder, milk, and banana, and dumped in ice. When he turned it on, the grinding drowned out the noises in his head. Winona stood aside, hopping from one foot to the other, watching him.

If she didn't want to tell him what was wrong, fine. And maybe that was what worked about their relationship. He didn't push, and she didn't press.

• • •

Winona didn't want to tell him. She'd wanted to wait until after dinner. Or a swim. Or a fuck. Something to lighten his mood. But then, he'd been in a good mood when he came home. She was acting crazy, and he'd sensed it immediately. She hadn't been able to mask her fears, her worries, her concerns, her frown.

“Why don't you sit down?” she asked.

Jake's shoulders stiffened as he finished his smoothie and set the glass down. He stood ramrod straight and glared at her with eyes the color of a fervent thunderstorm, then trudged to the couch.

She sat beside him and clasped his hands. “Sorry, I never meant to worry you.”

His gaze grew filmy as he continued to stare at her. He shrugged and glanced away. “Well, you did.”

She hadn't started this well. Not at all. But how else could she tell him his cousin's murderer had been found?

He'd changed since he'd spent that day with Amy. He had grown into that charismatic man she'd seen on his videos when he'd been filmed at his triathlete meets and commercials and appearances he made. Loving life, living life, and laughing at life. They'd had so much fun together, and she didn't want that to change.

She knew he still grieved Brandon's death. Knew he worried relentlessly about Amy and couldn't wait for her visit. Knew he planned to leave after Amy's visit.

Winona sighed and, not knowing how else to broach the subject, plunged right into it. “They arrested a suspect in Brandon's death.”

Unflinching, he pinned her with a hard stare. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.

“His name is Matthew Carter. He's been breaking into houses in the neighborhood, and Brandon just happened to be home the day it happened.”

Breathless, she watched as a myriad of emotions rippled across his face. He remained as still as a tree on a stagnant day, his only movement a wrinkle of his forehead as if a storm brewed across his features. Then his jaw clenched. He blinked slowly. She saw complacency, and finally something akin to acceptance.

“Amy was in her room. She never saw or heard what happened. But when he went to her room and found her playing, he kidnapped her.”

Her breathing slogged through the silence. His breath was voiceless, toneless, as if he'd decided to give up and stop taking in air. She realized his acceptance was only a mask of defeat, and now his face held no emotion.

“Does he match the police sketch?” He might be able to shield his feelings from his face, but not from his raspy and desperate voice.

“They called Amy in to see if she could identify him, but she denied she knew him. The police sketch was vague. You could match that sketch. Carter admitted to everything except killing Brandon and kidnapping Amy.”

“He admitted to everything?”

“He admitted to the burglaries. Not to murder.”

“That's because he didn't do it.”

• • •

Jake couldn't sleep. Winona had tried to comfort him with lovemaking, and he'd selfishly taken from her. Once she'd fallen asleep, he'd risen and come into the living room, where he'd flipped through the channels in search of something to watch and take his mind off the day's events. When Brandon's face had flashed across the screen, he stopped.

“There has been an arrest today in last week's murder of famed sports manager Brandon Inman. The suspect, Matthew Carter, is also under investigation for a string of robberies in Inman's neighborhood. Inman, manager for a myriad of sports celebrities, including his triathlete cousin Jacob Inman, was found murdered in his home.”

A picture of the suspect stalled on screen. Ash lodged in Jake's gut when he saw the man who'd allegedly killed his cousin.

He'd refused to check his phone for news. He'd wanted to get a good night's sleep before deciding if he wanted to read what the news said or see any pictures they might print. But his curiosity was too strong to stop watching.

He still wasn't convinced this Matthew guy killed his cousin.

Jake couldn't put his finger on the reasons why he continued to suspect Lillian was involved. Maybe it was because he knew what type of person Lillian was and all his suspicious would come to fruition. Or maybe—God help him—he
wanted
it to be Lillian. She'd go to prison for the rest of her life, and he could fight for Amy and give her the life she deserved.

He pressed rewind on the remote and paused the TV on the suspect's picture. Studying him, he tried to see something that would reveal the truth. He looked like scum, but not much different than Jake in his drug-and-alcohol days. He was young, had probably grown up without a real home, or maybe his parents had died as Jake's had and he had no one else to turn to. Exactly the type of guy Brandon would have tried to help when they volunteered at shelters and drug programs.

No matter. If he had, in fact, killed Brandon, he'd wish he were dead when Jake finished pummeling his face into the ground.

“Everything okay?”

Jake jumped at the sound of Winona's voice and quickly shut off the television. He didn't want to be caught watching the news, with the screen paused on the picture of the man he was supposed to hate. The man he would hate if he didn't still believe Lillian was involved.

“Yes.”

“What were you watching?”

“TV. I couldn't sleep. But I was just about to come back to bed.”

“Oh?” She settled into the couch beside him.

He rubbed a hand across his face. “Fine. I was watching the news.”

She grabbed his foot and massaged his heels and calves. “It's okay to watch the news. You don't have to feel guilty for watching the news.”

“I don't. I just feel guilty for wanting to kill the man on the news.”

“Matthew Carter?”

“Yep. And I feel guilty for still not believing he did it.”

• • •

Jake and Winona spent the next two weeks making love like crazy, sightseeing like tourists, and sleeping late like teenagers. He helped her at the animal shelter, and Chayton understood she would be taking time off from Air Dog, indefinitely. They'd gone four-wheeling, bike riding, hang-gliding, and motorcycling.

Neither discussed their future plans, only what activities they would do with Amy once she arrived. It was like a long vacation, one Jake hadn't had in centuries.

Jake remained convinced Matthew Carter did not kill his cousin, and Winona kept in contact with the police force to learn he would be held until trial.

If he wasn't careful, he was going to fall in love with this woman. She was so good to him. Good heart. Good in bed. Non-judging. How could he think she wasn't worthy?

He
wasn't worthy. He may have succeeded in life, but he would always be a recovering addict. Nothing could change that, and he began to fear he was trading one addiction for another. He'd traded drugs and alcohol for his sport, but what happened if he lost his sport?

He continued to run, continued to bike, continued to swim, and continued to push himself past the limits a normal overachiever would push. When NBC kept calling to schedule an interview with him, he finally accepted. Better to go to them before they came to him.

He flip-flopped between asking Winona to come with him, and traveling by himself. If Winona went with him, she could keep him preoccupied and out of trouble. God knew he didn't need to accuse Lillian on live television. But he also felt he was getting too close to her, afraid his addictive personality might latch on too tightly to her and if their relationship ended, he'd be ruined.

You don't give yourself enough credit
. It was like Brandon stood beside him, whispering in his ear. Urging him, like he always had, to stop beating himself up over small failures.

He chose to go to New York without Winona, and spent the next three days on radio and television. He didn't have enough time or energy to drink even if the temptation did strike, which it didn't. He talked to Winona every night, falling asleep with the sound of her voice in his ear.

His mission in life had always been to be a good influence on others, and that was what he strived to do on his interviews.

• • •

As Winona watched the interviews of Jake throughout the next few days, her heart broke. Jake was meant to be noticed, not live in the small town of Tanyon, Montana, and swim every day in the small pool at her condominium complex.

Not that Tanyon didn't offer an array of activities, including slopeside lakes they had lounged in all day, and Jeeping through deep valleys with colors mimicking a crayon box.

The night he was on
Live Prime Exclusive,
Naomi came over and they popped popcorn. They curled up beside each other on Winona's couch, and Chayton joined them later with a large bowl of ice cream and three spoons.

“That man is sexy when he wants to be,” Chayton said, creating an uproar of laughter among the two women.

“I knew you had a man-crush on him,” Winona accused.

“What's not to admire about him?” Chayton licked his spoon and dove in for more chocolate. “I mean, look at his hair.”

“Oh, babe,” Naomi said, stroking Chayton's hair that stretched to his neck. “You have the world's most perfect hair.”

He pointed his spoon at the television. “No, that man has the world's most perfect hair.”

They giggled again and watched as the show displayed a video of Jake carving through the water. Then it flashed to a video of football before returning to Jake.

“So you were going to be a big football player at one time?” Greg Oatman asked Jake, shocking Winona into discovering she didn't know much about the man she was falling for. “What happened?”

Jake shifted in his seat but didn't take his eye from his host. Although Greg was funny when he wanted to be, he was known for asking tough questions. Winona's hand stalled in the popcorn bowl as she anticipated Jake's response.

“Oh, you know, the usual. I hurt my knee.”

“Then you were going to be a football coach. What happened with that?”

Jake smiled. “Oh, you know. The usual. My parents were killed in a car crash. I got addicted to drugs and alcohol.”

The audience stilled, then laughed at his candor.

“And it was your cousin, Brandon, who pulled you out of that, was it not?”