mom laughed. “There’s a new-fangled device called the telephone, you know.” Her smile faded. “I kept hoping you’d call. Jason said you were doing okay, but I was worried.”
Chloe led the way into the kitchen and pulled down two tea cups. Brad’s mother’s china pattern. The woman he was supposed to take care of. “I’m doing better than I expected. I really like working at the hospital.”
“And how’s Brad?”
“Fine.” She concentrated on pouring the hot liquid into the cups, hoping her cheeks weren’t steaming as much as the coffee. “He wants me to stay in the city.” She clarified, in case her mom got the wrong idea. “At the hospital.”
“And what do you want to do?”
Chloe desperately wanted to believe in happy endings. Wanted to stay here. With Brad. And be a part of his world. But she didn’t know if it was possible. He hadn’t spoken about feelings per se or hinted that he wanted to deepen their relationship. “I think I need some time to figure things out.”
“That makes sense.” Her mom spooned some sugar into her cup and stirred. “It was good of him to let you stay.”
“Yes.” She poured milk into her own cup. “Let’s go into the living room.”
Chloe put a tray on the center ottoman and set her cup and saucer down. “How’s Daddy?”
“He’s helping put a new roof on the community center.”
“In this heat?”
Her mom took a sip of her coffee. “You know him. Thinks he’s still in his thirties.”
“Yes, he does.” How could one father be in the prime of his life at fifty and another father be dying? It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t imagine losing one of her parents...would be devastated when it happened.
But not Brad. Or maybe he’d just buried his feelings so deep no one could get to them. Not even the man himself.
Could she blame him? After the way his childhood had been?
But it wasn’t just his parents he seemed to be apathetic about. He’d had dozens of women over the years, probably more. And yet none of them had made a dent in that armor he wrapped around himself. He’d never mentioned Katrina again. It was as if the woman had never existed.
As much as Brad disliked locks, that hadn’t stopped him from boarding up his heart and padlocking it shut. Who knew if the right key even existed? Or if it did, if she could find it. She had no idea where to start looking.
Her mom was saying something, looking at her quizzically.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked how you like the city so far.”
That was an easy question. “I love it.”
“I was kind of hoping you might want to come home. We miss you.”
Chloe wrapped her hands around the delicate china cup, the expensive porcelain feeling brittle all of a sudden beneath her palms. “I miss you too. I just don’t think I can go back right now.”
“Maybe after the divorce goes through?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you need me to stop by the house and pick up your clothes? Or I could ask Travis to send them.”
The thought made her cringe. “No, I don’t want anything that’s there.” Clothes and shoes were replaceable, and she’d rather not have any reminders of that time.
Her mom was silent for a moment or two. “What happened, Chloe?”
Lord, she didn’t want to go through any of the sordid tale. “He hurt me.”
“Physically?”
“He didn’t hit me, no.” She was going to leave it at that. No need to tell her family that what had started out as verbal ridicule had escalated into a form of abuse. Layla’s words had convinced her it really had been. How far would he have gone if she hadn’t found out about his affairs? Maybe he’d even wanted her to discover the truth just to hurt her more.
“I’m sorry, honey. Why didn’t you come to your father or me?”
“I just couldn’t.” Maybe for the same reasons Brad had never told anyone about his own abuse.
“Chloe, look at me.”
Her eyes came up and found blue eyes so like her own probing, trying to find a way to help, just like she always had. Tears pricked and she blinked to keep them at bay.
Her mom took the cup from her hands and placed it on the tray, then she pulled Chloe close and wrapped her arms around her. Chloe rested her head on her shoulder, just like she had when she’d been a little girl, and let her mom’s love wash over her. “Don’t let anyone do that to you again.” Another pause. “Not even Brad.”
She tensed. Had her mom figured out what they were doing? Had she realized the depth of Chloe’s feelings for him? Maybe. She was a smart woman. “I won’t, Mom. I promise.”
* * *
He missed her.
The thought kept pricking at him all day long at work, like a splinter he felt constantly but couldn’t find and pull out. She was off duty, spending time with her mother. He didn’t like the way her absence left a hole in him, but wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Ever since he’d left his father’s house he’d been feeling more and more uneasy about the way things were headed. Sooner or later the whole situation would start closing in on him, just like it always did. And by delaying the inevitable, they were both going to pay the price. Soon.
He might not be the smartest guy in the world, but he knew deep down he couldn’t give her what she wanted—what she deserved—any more than Travis had. Maybe he could in the bedroom but not emotionally. He might love her, but he was smart enough to know he didn’t do those kinds of feelings well. Chloe, on the other hand, embraced those soul-searing emotions, maybe a little too well. It’s why she’d been so damaged at Travis’s hand after their marriage. She’d trusted him and he’d betrayed that trust—in more ways than one.
Wasn’t she leaving herself open to more hurt by getting involved with him? He dragged a hand through his hair as the splinter inside him pushed deeper, poking at places he’d rather not examine.
He and Chloe might be able to come together for a period of time, but there was no way it could last long term. He didn’t do relationships like the one Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had. One that seemed to flourish for decades. Chloe’s family had had room not only for their own children but for a lost soul who’d appeared on their doorstep beside Jason.
How did someone open their hearts like that? He had never been able to get to that point. He was really good at superficial relationships that didn’t require anything more than a couple of nights a week. But every day? For the rest of his life? He didn’t think he had it in him.
He suddenly understood
