Saving Sara (Redemption #1) (21 page)

35.

J
ake woke to the first slivers of a cool dawn peeking through the blinds and an armful of hot woman snuggled into his chest.

Disoriented, he blinked several times and glanced at the woman.

It all came flooding back.

Sara.

Over him. Under him. Satisfying him in a way he’d never thought possible.

They’d had an incredible night. How many times had they done it? Four? Five? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact she was here, right by his side and he liked it. A lot.

For the first morning in nine months, a smile crept across his face. At last, he had something to smile about.

He had no idea how they’d make this work. He hadn’t planned on staying in town beyond Rose’s rehab stint. Hell, he couldn’t even enter the local airfield without freaking out. Then there was his apartment back in New York City. And a host of contacts he’d built up over the years in the industry, should he ever need a change of direction in his career.

If there ever was a time he needed a change, that time was now.

But then there was Sara. Sweet, sassy, seductive Sara.

He couldn’t see her leaving Redemption. Not after she’d left her pain behind and seemed comfortable in the house she’d inherited. But it was more than that.

This town had saved her.

He’d watched her at the fair, had seen her deep in conversation with many of the locals, the joy on her face when she sold her pieces. She’d even appeared comfortable around the kids from her art class who’d stopped by her stall, a far cry from the woman who’d bawled when she’d first laid eyes on Olly.

No, he couldn’t see her heading back to the city. Which meant he had some serious thinking to do.

He hadn’t needed the phenomenal sex last night to cement what he already knew.

He’d fallen for Sara.

And he wanted to explore what that meant for the both o
f them.

She wriggled a little and sighed, her eyelids fluttering. The corners of her mouth curved a little and he hoped she was dreaming of him.

His cell buzzed on the drawers next to the bed and he froze. Dawn phone calls couldn’t be good and his fears immediately focused on Olly or Cilla or Rose. He prayed to God they were safe as he carefully slid his arm out from under Sara, who appeared to sleep in a catatonic state and couldn’t be roused despite him shifting to reach for his phone.

He grabbed the cell, padded into the bathroom, slid the door shut and allowed himself a deep breath before glancing at the screen.

Rose.

Trying to stay cool, he hit the answer button. “Hey Rosey-Posey, everything okay?”

“No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and his heart sank.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to see you, Jake. Now.”

Hell. “I can be there in an hour if I leave now.”

Jake wanted to ask a million questions but she sounded so lost, so forlorn, that he didn’t want to be responsible for tipping the balance. So he focused on the one topic guaranteed to put a smile on her face.

“Olly must’ve loved seeing you yesterday.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” she said, her tone bordering on shrill. “Get here as fast as you can.”

She’d hung up by the time he’d said, “Okay.” Not good. He hadn’t heard her sound so desperate since the night she’d called him, hysterical, to say that Olly’s father had been found dead of a drug overdose.

He got dressed at record speed and tiptoed back into the
bedroom
to scrawl a quick note for Sara. She hadn’t stirred and he allowed himself the luxury of watching her sleep peacefully for a few seconds before writing a brief explanation, then slipping out the door.

He tried to focus on their night together on the drive to the rehab facility but instead, a variety of scenarios, all of them bad, kept flashing across his mind.

Had Rose had a relapse? Had she checked herself out then realized her mistake? Had Cilla said something to put her in a funk? What would happen to Olly if Rose couldn’t get her act together?

The sixty-minute drive took him forty-five at this early hour and he found himself holding his breath as he waited to be admitted to Rose’s ward.

The night nurse on duty, about to clock off, shot him a compassionate glance that did little to settle his nerves. What the hell was he walking into?

Thankfully, Rose appeared alert and calm as she sat by the window in her room, dressed in yoga pants and a hoodie. With her hair in a ponytail, she looked like a teenage waif.

She turned as he entered the room and leapt to her feet. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

He crossed the small room and hugged her, wishing he could infuse her with some of his strength. For that’s how he felt these days, like Redemption had made him stronger. He wasn’t the same guy who’d left New York a few months ago in search of help for his nephew and had ended up helping himself in the process.

“You’ve got me worried, Sis. What’s up?” He perched on the side of her bed, hoping that whatever had upset her he could fix it.

“I need to get this all out in one go without you interrupting, okay?”

“Okay.” Foreboding strummed his spine. This sounded bad.

“I’m a lousy mom and seeing Olly with Aunt Cilla yesterday reinforced it. He’s like a different kid. He looks healthy and happy in a way he never did with me.”

She started pacing, taking three steps and turning back, and when he opened his mouth to respond she held up her hand. “Let me finish. I know you want me to recuperate in Redemption when I get out of here, and Cilla put forward a strong case too. So I’m considering it. But Olly’s better off with you for a while. I’m not strong enough to leave here yet and . . . honestly? I won’t be for a while.”

“How long?”

She hesitated, as her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”

This was worse than he expected. Olly was Rose’s life and if she didn’t want to get out of here ASAP to be with him, she must be in a bad way.

“Did you relapse?”

She snorted. “How? You think they have a mini-bar stocked full of vodka in these rooms?”

He bit back the logical response: If she was allowed visitors now, any one of her friends could’ve snuck alcohol in.

“Olly adores you, Rose. You’re all he talks about—”

“That’s not true. He kept mentioning Sara, like she hung the moon and stars.” She resumed pacing. “Aunt Cilla said she’
s great.”

And she’s my new girlfriend
, Jake wanted to say. But now wasn’t the time and place to get into the logistics of his love life. He needed to find out what was bugging Rose.

“Yeah, Olly took a few art classes with her.”

She nodded. “He told me. He also said she’s your girlfriend and he saw you kissing.”

Rose’s smirk reminded him of the way she used to tease him when they were kids. He liked it.

“Kids are blunt,” he said, smiling. “Sara and I are . . . involved.”

Could he sound any more pompous?

Predictably, Rose screwed up her nose. “Involved? That’s a ne
w one.”

“I really like her. She’s incredible.”

Now he sounded like a sap. But he didn’t care. Like Redemption, Sara had helped him come alive again. Not that he felt only gratitude for her. Oh no. He felt far, far more.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you like this.” She shook her head, but not before he’d glimpsed the sheen of tears. “I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

“We both do,” he said, and to his horror, she burst into tears.

Not just tears. Sobs. Gut-wrenching sobs that made him want to slay whatever demons haunted her. For now, all he could do was hold her and comfort her and wait until she was ready to talk.

When the sobs petered out to sniffles, they eased apart and sat on the bed.

“You’ve been through some tough stuff and you’ve always come out on top, Rosey. You’ve got a stronger backbone than me. So why are you talking crazy, saying Olly’s better off without you?”

“Because I’m not blind. I can see how well he’s doing.” She looked away, swiped a hand under her nose. “I want you to have custody of him—”

“What the—”

“He’s better off with you.” She raised her tear-stained face to eyeball him. “He’s a different kid now, Jakey, and that’s because of you.
You
did that. You’re more capable than me. You can handle the hard knocks when I can’t. Plus, you can give him everything, and Olly deserves the best in life—”

“Stop talking shit.” Jake leapt to his feet and started pacing, stunned she’d suggest such a thing when she loved her son more than anything. “Olly is your
life
. You adore that kid. You’ve slaved for years to provide him with everything.”

Shocked his sister would even consider giving him custody of her precious son, he stopped in front of her and glowered. “So what the hell is really going on?”

She took her time answering, knuckling the tears from her eyes. “I’m scared. Freaking terrified.” She hiccupped and raised bloodshot eyes to his. “What if I end up like him?”

Jake didn’t have to ask who the “him” was. Their father. The bastard. Ruining lives even from beyond the grave.

“With the alcohol, you mean?”

Rose shook her head. “I only drink to forget. I can control it if I want to.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I have to forget . . . I
need
to forget.” She grimaced, her hand shaky as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It still makes me mad. Every time I think of what he put me through, the fury sweeps over me and the only way to calm it is by drinking.”

“There are other ways—”

“Don’t lecture me, Jake. Not now.” She plucked at the edge of the bedspread. “When I get that angry, that’s the worst time of all, because I’m terrified I’ll lash out at Olly . . . like he did with us.”

“Hell, Rose, don’t give him so much power. We both did enough of that already when the old bastard was alive.”

His gut roiled at the memory of what they’d endured as kids. “You and I are nothing like him.
Nothing
. You love Olly. You’d do anything for him, including holing away here to get yourself together. The old man never loved us. Never treated us as anything other than nuisances to be tolerated or abused. And we put up with it because we had to. But not anymore.”

He took hold of her hands. “It took me years to get over our childhood. I still get the occasional nightmare. But I made a choice a while back, not to waste any more time lamenting what happened back then. That bastard took enough of my life. I won’t give him the satisfaction of stealing any more.”

Rose stared at him, wide-eyed and wary. “Do you ever wish we’d done things differently? Maybe run away or fought back?”

“We were kids. We did the best we could.”

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I never thanked you for protecting me. Because I know you did. You took the brunt of his brutality—”

“Stop. You don’t need to thank me. I did what I had to do, just like you do with Olly.” He squeezed her hands. “Seriously, Sis, you’re a great mom. You should be proud of that amazing kid you’ve raised all on your own.” He eyeballed her. “You. Are. Nothing. Like. Him. Always remember that.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Rose nodded. “Thanks. I’ve never told anyone else all that stuff, about me being terrified of ending up like Dad. Only you could truly understand and you haven’t judged me. You’ve made me see things in a different way.”

“I’m always here for you, Rosey-Posey, always. And I don’t ever want to hear you talk crazy about giving up custody of Olly to me, got it?” He hugged her tight, blinking to dispel the moisture stinging his eyes. “You’re never alone.”

“Aunt Cilla said that too.” She pulled back. “I really want to concentrate on the therapy side of things here for a while, get my head straight, then I think I will come to Redemption.”

“That’s great. In that case, I’d better stick around town a while longer.”

Her tremulous smile lightened his heart. “Like you need an excuse. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with this wonder woman Sara.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Rose had met the occasional casual girlfriend he’d taken to functions, but no one who’d meant as much to him as Sara.

“Take care of Olly for me, okay?”

“Always.”

This time, their hug was more affectionate than desperate.

“Call me if you need me,” he said, pausing at the door. “Any time. Day or night. I’ll be here.”

She blew him a kiss. “Love you, Jakey. You’re the best.”

“I know.” He grinned, relieved when she grinned back. “Talk to you soon.”

His grin faded as the door closed behind him. He’d kept
his fury i
n check in front of Rose, but the residual anger against hi
s fath
er and the long-reaching consequences of his cruelty made him want to thump something.

But he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t practice what he preached, and on the drive back to Redemption, he let the anger go and focused on something more positive.

Getting back to Sara.

36.

A
week after the fair, Cilla was no closer to peace.

She still felt edgy and annoyed and off-kilter.

She knew why, too. Bryce was ignoring her, just like he’d said, leaving the ball in her proverbial court. But her vow of “He’d be waiting a long time” for her to contact him was wearing thin.

She’d seen him several times at the hospital, when she’d popped in to see Sergio and finalize the funds raised with his parents. She’d seen him grabbing a coffee at the diner. She’d even seen him jogging late at night when she’d been doing volunteer dinners for the seniors’ center.

Each and every time, she’d become breathless and wished a pox on him. But he looked better than ever and wouldn’t do much beyond a brief nod to acknowledge her existence.

The man could out-stubborn a goat. Then again, what had she expected? For him to continually chase her only to be rebuffed? She’d got exactly what she’d wanted: for him to keep his distance. She should be ecstatic. But the last seven days had been tough, seeing Jake and Sara so happy. She was thrilled for them, but when was the last time she’d been really, truly happy?

Probably when she’d given birth to Tam, which was . . . what? Forty-two years ago? Damn, she was a sad case. Maybe she should go out with James after all? The mere thought made her shudder and she picked up the pace, needing to get home and start dinner. Dinner for one, considering Jake and Olly were eating at Sara’s tonight. She’d begged off their invitation, citing fatigue after a long day at the hospital and a little much needed “me time,” when the truth was she couldn’t face another dinner feeling like a third wheel. At least, not at the moment.

If she could hold out until Bryce left, she’d be okay. Back to her staid life, just the way she liked it. So why did the thought leave her cold?

As she exited the back door of the hospital and headed for the car park, she spied a lone figure in the grotto, a small circular space surrounded by hedges with a park bench in the middle. It had been built originally as a peaceful place for people to wait while their family or friends had surgery, but it had become redundant over the years after the new cafeteria had been built.

As she neared, she saw Bryce sitting on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees, shoulders slumped, like he was bearing an invisible weight.

She stopped, startled by her first instinct—to go to him and hold him. To comfort him. To ease whatever burden made him look so vulnerable.

Before she could second-guess her decision, she entered the grotto. He didn’t look up until she sat next to him, his surprise quickly masked by a carefully neutral expression.

When he didn’t speak, she said, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” His short, clipped, monosyllabic response indicated he was far from it.

“Usual post-rounds tiredness?”

He straightened and shrugged. “Something like that.”

An awkward silence stretched between them and Cilla wished she’d never approached him. Small talk had never been her forte. And she couldn’t broach any subject remotely connected to the two of them.

Eventually, he half-turned to face her. “What are you doing here when you’re usually doing your best to avoid me?”

She settled for honesty. “You looked like you could use a friend.”

“Is that what we are now?
Friends
?” He made it sound like they were sworn enemies. “Because I sure as hell don’t treat my friends the way you’ve treated me.”

To her mortification, tears stung her eyes. “It’s complicated. You know that.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

Thankfully, he turned away to continue staring at the jasmine bush, giving her time to compose herself. Time she needed as she dashed her hand across her eyes.

“I know why you’re pushing me away,” he said, continuing his intense study of the bush. “You’re wracked by guilt.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” A sliver of anger pierced her sadness. “And you never will.”

“I called Tamsin.”

She jumped. “What?”

“You heard me.” He stood and she leapt to her feet so he wouldn’t tower over her. “I was sick of all the BS and I wanted to get an insight into the woman I care about, so I tracked her down and called her.”

“How dare you?” Cilla puffed up in outrage, wanting to slug something, preferably him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man who’s been in love with you for twenty-five goddamn years!” he roared, his gaze tortured as he stepped away. “Don’t you get it, Cilla? I’m not bullshitting. I’m not an abusive prick. I’m not Vernon!”

Stunned by his outburst, she glared at him. “You don’t know the first thing about Vernon—”

“Actually, I do. Tamsin told me. All of it. And I’d hazard a guess that when she went away to college, things only got worse.” He ran a hand over his face. It did little to erase the devastation twisting his features, and he hadn’t even lived through it. “Not all men are like that bastard. And feeling guilty because you stuck out the marriage for Tamsin’s sake yet she left anyway isn’t helping. Tamsin loves you but every time she’s around you she feels the weight of the past stifling her and you look so sad and remind her of everything that went wrong back then—”

“Shut up.” She jabbed him hard in the chest. “Just shut the h
ell up!”

Bryce bloody Madden was presuming to tell her about her daughter? Worse, why the hell had Tam told him all that crap?

Cilla shook with rage as Bryce stared at her with pity.

That was the final straw.

“We’re going to have this out, once and for all.” She grabbed his shirtsleeve and all but dragged him out of the grotto. “We’ll talk at your place.”

Bryce shrugged off her grip but he followed her along the path bordering the back of the hospital that led toward his house. They didn’t speak, which was good, because Cilla couldn’t have forced a single word past the lump of anger lodged in her throat.

He’d called Tam for insight into her life. What gave him the right? As for Tam, Cilla had never felt so betrayed. Tam had never said any of that stuff to her. Her own mother!

When they reached Bryce’s cottage, he opened the door and she pushed past him, stomping into the darkened living room. She’d been so gung-ho to give him a piece of her mind in private that she hadn’t realized the effect being back here would have.

The last time she’d been here, he’d cooked her dinner, plied her with charm and banter, and then made her body sing with a mere kiss. The memory made her hands shake and she planted them on her hips, ready to blast him.

But when he switched on the lone lamp in the room, some of Cilla’s fury fizzled. He looked like she’d kicked him where it hurt the most.

“You want to tell me I’m an asshole for delving into your private life? Go ahead. You want to berate me for caring? Have at it.” He held his hands out to her, like he had nothing to hide up his sleeves. “But know this, Cilla. I’m one of the good guys. I’m not spinning you a line. Or jerking you around. Or playing some lame game while I’m in town. I’m so damn mad at you for doubting me and for pushing me away when I’ve wanted you since I was
seventeen
years old and that hasn’t waned—”

Cilla lost her mind and kissed him. Initially to shut him up. B
ut as h
is arms slid around her waist and hauled her close, she kissed him for another reason entirely.

Because he made her feel good. He made her feel alive. He made her forget.

And that’s what Cilla wanted to do tonight. Forget.

Forget every rational reason why she shouldn’t do this.

Forget her fears and self-esteem issues.

Forget her past.

And just live.

She didn’t allow herself to doubt as Bryce undid her skirt, ripped off her panties and buried his tongue in her.

She didn’t stop him from pleasuring her until she was gasping for air and her knees had buckled.

She didn’t analyze or rationalize when he hoisted her up against the wall, buried himself deep and thrust repeatedly until he yelled her name and she came apart.

She didn’t do any of those things because from the first moment Bryce had touched her, it felt right. And what they’d just shared had been magnificent. Desperate and wanton and passionate. The way two people who cared about each other should be.

“You okay?” His gentle kiss brushed her lips. “I didn’t mean it to be like that . . . I mean, I’d dreamed about it but not like tha
t and—”

“You talk too much.”

She kissed him to shut him up again.

Her excuse and she was sticking to it.