Authors: Barbara Freethy
Max didn't like the sound of that. "When did you last see him?"
"This morning. I was going to take the day off, so we could spend time together, but Spencer insisted I go to work. He didn't want me hovering, asking him questions he didn't want to answer. He said he didn't need another jailer." She paused with a sniff, her eyes sad and confused. "Why would he say such a thing to me? I was trying to help him, Max."
Apparently, Spencer's second day of freedom wasn't going any better than his first.
"He's adjusting to life on the outside. It can't be easy for him," Max said, making excuses for his brother, because he knew that's what his mother wanted to hear.
"I thought we'd go back to the way it was. I guess that was stupid."
"More like optimistic." He wished he could make her feel better. But he'd never had that much effect on his mother's emotions. Spencer could make her laugh or cry or be deliriously happy, but Max had never been able to find that connection with her.
"You're being—nice," she said, suspicion in her voice. "Why?"
"Because you're upset."
"I didn't think you cared about my feelings. It's not like we've spent much time together the last several years."
"We both know why that is."
She nodded. "Yes, I blamed you for not getting Spencer out. My boy was in pain, and I was desperate to help him. I would have done the same for you, Max."
He somehow doubted that.
"At any rate, I want to help Spencer now, but he's changed. I thought he'd be happy to be free. But he's angry about all the time he lost. He can't see the positive. He can only dwell on the negative."
"He's missed a lot. I don't think he realized how much until he got out of the insular world of the prison. Now he can see what he's been missing, and it hurts more. It's going to take him awhile to get his feet under him again."
"I understand that. I don't know what it's like to be in prison, but I do know how it feels when your world is suddenly turned upside down. I felt like that when your father left. It took me years to accept that he wasn't coming back, that our marriage was finished.
She didn't have to tell him that. He'd had a front row seat to her anger. Instead of telling him bedtime stories, she'd railed for hours against his
no-good
father.
Glancing at his watch, Max realized it was after six and already dark outside. He was starting to wonder where Spencer was, too.
"I'm getting worried," his mother said, meeting his gaze. "You don't think Spencer has taken off, do you?"
"With no money and no car, probably not. Maybe he's job hunting."
"I suppose," she said doubtfully. "You don't think that he would…"
Her voice trailed away, but she didn't need to finish the question. He knew exactly what she was concerned about. "I don't know. I hope he knows better than to track Stephanie now. I'll take a look around the neighborhood. Maybe he's just walking around."
Relief filled her eyes as he stood up. "I think that's a good idea."
"I'm sure he hasn't gone far."
"I hope not. I'll get dinner started." She smiled. "I feel better now. You've always had a way of calming everyone down, Max. I'm really glad you're home."
* * *
As Max left the house, he paused to zip up his jacket. There was a chill bite in the air, and the fog sweeping in off the ocean sent a fine, misty spray against his face. The cold felt good. It was invigorating, re-energizing, and he needed the mental kick to clear his head. He was used to concentrating on his job without having to deal with family issues. He was also used to doing his job without having to deal with a distraction like Emma.
Sure, he'd worked with partners over the years. He still did. That was unavoidable, but no one had ever unsettled him the way Emma did.
He'd been shocked at how his mind had wandered when they'd been looking at her new apartment. He hadn't had those kinds of daydreams in a very long time. It was because she was off limits, because he couldn't have her. He wasn't supposed to touch her, so that's all he wanted to do.
He wasn't used to saying no to himself or to a woman, but when it came to Emma, that's exactly what he needed to do. Emma didn't just distract him from his work, she also made him think about things that he'd put out of his mind years ago, things like living with a woman, getting married, having kids, being part of a family, having in-laws.
And Emma was a Callaway—talk about pressure. They would want only the best kind of man for Emma, someone who would be absolutely and totally committed to her forever.
Just thinking about
forever
made him sweat.
So don't think about it, he ordered himself. Don't think about
her
.
He picked up his pace and crossed the street, heading down to the beach. Both he and Spencer had liked to escape to the sea, and while it was too cold to surf, the sound of the crashing waves might still have drawn Spencer to the shore.
There was a kid's playground across the street from the beach, and the streetlight revealed a male figure sitting on a low brick wall gazing out at the sea.
Spencer
!
Relief fled through him. He'd hoped Spencer would be nearby and not across town trying to see Stephanie.
He walked across the playground and sat down on the wall next to him.
Spencer glanced his way, not looking at all surprised to see him. "Did she send you out to look for me?"
"I volunteered. Mom is worried about you."
"Really? I had no idea. She only left five voice message and four texts," he said sarcastically.
"So you do have the phone she gave you."
Spencer let out a sigh. "I know I'm being an asshole. I was going to call her back but then I listened to her first message, and she started crying in the middle of it. She cried last night when I said goodnight and this morning when I asked for cereal. Did she always cry this much?"
"Yes. Don't you remember all the fights she and Dad had—all the emotional breakdowns before and after the divorce? She was a mess. She cried over everything."
"That was a long time ago."
"True, but she's always been emotional. She cried at your eighth grade graduation, the day you got your driver's license, the morning you left for college." Max shook his head. "Actually, when you went away to college, she cried for about three months straight." He paused. "In case you don't know—she adores you. When Dad left, she turned to you for support, and you stepped up. You took care of her and once you started doing that, you became her savior."
"Some savior I turned out to be."
"Your arrest and conviction did not lessen her opinion of you. When you went to jail, she felt lost again, but she kept her sanity and her focus by concentrating on getting you out of prison. Now that you're free, she wants you to be happy, and she's going to work as hard as she can to make that happen. She wants the two of you to be as close as you used to be."
Spencer shook his head. "I'm not the same man. I can't go back to being who I was. I don't even remember who I was. I'm not trying to hurt her, but I feel distant and shaky, like I'm off balance or on a boat, and I can't get my legs under me. I need some space, and she doesn't want to give it to me."
"She doesn't want to lose you again."
"Then she should stop trying to drive me away," he said in exasperation.
"I hear you, but it's going to take time. She still can't believe you're really free."
"I can't believe it either. I never thought I'd serve my entire sentence. Every day I believed that some miracle would occur, that someone would see the injustice and free me." He let out a long breath. "But that didn't happen."
"I wish I could have found a way to make that happen," he said quietly. "I know you don't believe that I tried, but I did. I couldn't find enough evidence to change anyone's mind."
Spencer glanced over at him. "Including your own. Wasn't that really the problem, Max? You didn't believe my side of the story. If you'd been on the jury, you would have found me guilty, too."
"That's not true, Spencer. I do believe that Stephanie was being stalked and that you thought she was in danger," he said. "I also believe that Kurt Halstead came to her apartment that night because he was harassing her, and that you fought to protect her. I also don't believe that you intended to kill him."
Surprise filled his brother's eyes. "You never said all that before."
"Yes, I did," he said forcefully. "You just didn't hear me. You were too caught up in your anger and frustration, and I get that. I would have been furious, too. But I wasn't the one you should have turned on. The person who sent you to prison is the person you were trying to protect—Stephanie." As Spencer opened his mouth to defend his ex-girlfriend, Max cut him off. "I know you have a million excuses for why she did what she did, but I don't believe them. In my opinion, she's the reason you went to jail. There are two sides to every story, but in the end, Stephanie supported Kurt's side, not yours."
"She was scared."
"Then she should have told the jury that she was scared, that the Halstead family was pressuring her, that she feared she would lose her job, that she was as terrified of them as she was of their son."
Spencer stared back at him. "Stephanie was scared of Halstead. But after I fought him, after I killed him, she was scared of me."
"Are you saying that she sent you to prison because she was scared of you?" He hadn't heard that before.
"I think that was part of why she got so tentative on the stand. Her friends were telling her to stay away from me. I heard her sister say that I had a hair-trigger temper, and she was lucky I hadn't killed her. As if I could kill her. I loved her!" His voice roughened with emotion. "I never imagined I could feel such an intense love for a woman, like I could give up everything for her, throw myself in front of a speeding train for her, spend hours wanting to watch her sleep. From the first minute we met, Stephanie took over my heart and my soul. I couldn't think about anyone but her. The work that I loved wasn’t important any more. I would rush home to see her, to hold her, to touch her." He drew in a long, shaky breath. "God, I feel like it was just yesterday."
Spencer turned to Max. "Have you ever felt that kind of love, Max? Have you ever thought you'd die if you couldn't touch someone, see their smile or hear their laugh? Have you ever wanted someone so badly that you'd put your own life on the line for them?"
Images of Emma flashed through his head, startling him with their bright, vivid intensity. And a part of him thought if he could feel that way about any woman, it would be her. But he didn't want to be like Spencer. He didn't want to become a fool or a slave for love.
Spencer gave a helpless shake of his head. "Damn. I sound like Dad, don't I? Right before he left, he told me he had to do it. He had to divorce mom, because he hadn't realized what love could be until he met Dana. He couldn't let Dana go."
"But he could let us go," Max reminded him. There might be winners in love, but there are also losers."
"I didn't understand how he could leave Mom until I met Stephanie."
"Oh, come on," he said impatiently. "Love doesn't excuse being a jerk to everyone else. He cheated on Mom. He cheated on Dana. The man cannot be with one woman. He has to live his life on a series of highs. He can't handle the in-between times or the down days. He has to be in love. He has to be happy. Forget about the rest of us. What do we matter?" He blew out a breath. His rant had been building for a while, and Spencer was probably the only person who could truly understand what he was talking about.
"I didn't say I forgave him," Spencer said. "But I understand a little better how love can make you crazy. One day you will, too."
"I don't think so."
"Don't be so sure. When you fall in love, Max, you're going to fall hard. It's the Harrison way."
"It's not
my
way," he said firmly. "Let's go home," he said.
Spencer slowly rose. "All right."
"By the way," Max said as they started to walk. "I might know of a possible job. How do you feel about working a cash register in a deli?"
"Sounds perfect for a man with an MBA."
Max heard the sarcasm but simply smiled and slapped his brother on the back. "That's the spirit."
Chapter Twelve
"Do you know how long it's been since I drank more than one glass of wine?" Nicole asked. "Three years."
"That's a long time," Emma said. "Have some pretzels."
"The last time was the day the doctor told me that Brandon was autistic, that he was probably never going to be normal, and that I would have to find a way to live with it."
"Asshole," Emma muttered.
"The next doctor said the same thing in a nicer way, but the point was still the same."
"But you didn't give up then, and you're not giving up now. You'll fight for Brandon with every breath that you take."
"I will," Nicole confirmed.
"What about Ryan? Why won't you fight for him?"
"I don't have anything left for Ryan," she said wearily. "I know it's wrong, but Brandon is the most important person right now. There's only a small window of time where we can make positive change. Ryan will still be Ryan in two or three or five years, but Brandon could be completely different, if I do the right things now. I don't know why Ryan can't understand that."
Emma admired Nicole's faith. It had been three years, and Brandon hadn't changed all that much despite Nicole's intense efforts. He was still withdrawn. He didn't speak to anyone, except maybe Nicole, and only then in one-word sentences. He was locked in a world inside of his head, and no one could get to him. While she respected Nicole as a mother, she worried that her stubborn, relentless focus on Brandon would cost her sister her marriage.
"You think I'm a bitch, don't you?" Nicole asked.
Emma smiled. "Hey, I was already called that once today, so if you are, don't feel bad. Apparently, it runs in the family."
"Who called you a bitch?" Nicole asked, her gaze narrowing.