You learned well.”
Matt hesitated, then carted the griddle over to the sink. His back to her, he said, “Only thing my folks ever wanted was for any kid who set foot in this house to feel safe.” He turned. “Making grilled-cheese sandwiches wasn’t the only thing I learned well. So what’s going on, Kelly?”
And there it was. She set down her milk glass, skimming her index finger over the damp rim before lifting her eyes to his. “Let me get the kids to bed first?”
He crossed his arms, doing the narrow-eyed thing again, and a shiver traipsed up her spine. Finally he walked back to the island and leaned heavily on the counter’s edge, close enough for her to see the beginnings of crow’s feet fanning from nearly black eyes.
“It’s obvious you need help,” he said, too softly for the kids to hear. “Which for old time’s sake I’m more than willing to give you...but only if you swear to tell me everything. And I mean everything. So. Deal?”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “You got any other options?”
She sighed. “Not really, no.”
Still gripping the counter’s edge, Matt straightened again, his gaze drifting to the kids in the family room before resettling on hers. “I may not share the Colonel’s DNA, but I’m still his son. If you can count on him, you can count on me.”
And God help her, she believed him. Because, as he so accurately pointed out, what choice did she have?
* * *
A half hour later, Matt lay sprawled in his dad’s recliner, half watching some late-night TV show, when Kelly appeared in the room’s entryway. He glanced over and his breath hitched in his chest.
She looked downright shrunken, hunched into herself as she distractedly rubbed one forearm with her other hand. Even as a teenager she’d been on the skinny side, but now, even with the baggy sweatshirt, she was all points and angles. Damn, her cheekbones had never been that sharp.
Or her eyes that flat.
“I was beginning to think you’d chickened out,” he said. “Or passed out.”
A weary smile touched her lips. Granted, Kelly hadn’t been your typical, in-your-face Jersey girl—in fact, her being so quiet was what had first attracted him. But this went way beyond being reserved. Or stuck-up, which Matt now realized was absurd. No, the word that came to mind now was...deflated. Like the minute she didn’t have to put up a front for her kids, she’d surrendered to whatever hell she was going through.
“I’d’ve never been able to sleep,” she said, “knowing you were out here...wondering.”
Matt clicked off the TV and levered the chair back upright. “You got that right—”
“Please don’t feel obligated because you happened to be here instead of your dad.”
“And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I’m a cop, I took an oath to protect and serve, okay? Don’t recall it saying I got to pick and choose who I protected.”
“So...this isn’t personal?”
“Not sure how it could be, since we haven’t seen each other in, what? Nearly twenty years?”
“Got it.” Then her brows pushed together. “Why are you here, anyway?”
He almost laughed. “Because why would I still be living with my father?”
“I didn’t say—”
“But you thought. And are you gonna stand there the rest of the night or what?”
“I might.”
For a split second, annoyance prickled. Until Matt realized that tiny, defiant act was her trying to keep some control over a situation in which she probably felt pretty damn powerless. So he leaned back in the chair, plucked his soda can from the holder on the chair’s arm.
“My own house is all torn up at the moment,” he said, taking a swig. “Okay, for longer than that. I’m doing most of the work myself so the remodel’s not exactly going like gangbusters. No heat, no indoor plumbing.... You get the picture. So I’m camping out here.”
She folded her arms over her stomach. “Sabrina mentioned your divorce. I’m sorry.”
Even after nearly a year, the sting still took him by surprise. “Thanks,” he said, appreciating her solicitude but having no intention of talking about his pulverized marriage. With her or anybody—
“So you’re here alone?” she said.
“No, Abby’s here, too.” Matt jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “Upstairs. She was up this morning at five, hit the hay before it was even nine. Another reason why I’m here, since Pop didn’t much cotton to the idea of her being here alone.”
“My goodness, how old is she now? Twenty?”
“Twenty-two. And pissed as all get-out that I’m here, cramping her style.”
“Oh, and like the Colonel doesn’t?”
Well, look at that. Was that an actual twinkle in those pretty green eyes? Matt chuckled. “Yeah, but I’m her brother. Which is far worse. Especially since Pop spoils her rotten.”
“Don’t give me that,” Kelly said, still smiling. Sorta. “I remember how you guys were when she was little. You all spoiled her rotten.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said, and Kelly laughed softly, then glanced toward the ceiling.
“I can’t believe we didn’t wake her up. She must sleep like the dead.”
“She does. Always has. Last summer? Kid slept through a thunderstorm that sounded like it was gonna take out half the town.” Alf shoved herself to her feet and padded over to Matt for some loving. He messed with the dog’s ears for a moment or two, then frowned back at Kelly. “So. This story...?”
She cupped the back of her neck, her forehead creased. “You realize I can only give you my side?”
“Better than no side.”
“And if I sound completely delusional?”
“Guess that’s a risk you’ll have to take.” He took another swallow of the nearly flat soda. “But I somehow doubt your ex is buried in the woods somewhere.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kelly said drily, then finally sat on the very edge of the sofa, jerking a limp red curl behind her ear. Her mouth pressed flat for a moment before she said, very softly, “I’m scared.”
Point to him. “For you? The kids—?”
“Both.”
“Your ex hurt you?” When her eyes shot to his, he said, “You started to say something. Earlier.”
“Right.”
