He hoisted a box up. “Lead the way.”
She started to lift the other.
“Leave it,” he said. “It’s too heavy. I’ll get it on the second trip.”
She led him up the back stairs of the church and outside. There sat an old red van that had seen better days. There were several scratches and a couple of small dents, one that looked pretty new. “What happened here?” he asked, thinking it could have been made by a man’s boot. Did Blake take his anger out on objects, too?
She smiled. “Errant football. I said it was a wild throw. Keagan said I should have jumped higher.”
“Keagan?”
“My son.”
Ahhhh, yes. The child that she’d had with Gary Blake within the first year of their marriage. Bray set the box down, perhaps harder than necessary, but he didn’t hear anything break.
He went back inside for the other box. She was standing next to the open van door and stepped aside so that he could shove the box in. Which he did—a little more gently.
“You have a daughter, too, right?” he asked.
Summer’s face softened. “Adalyn. We call her Adie. She’s five.”
“How do they feel about the divorce?” he asked.
There was enough light from the streetlight that he could see her pretty green eyes cloud over. “Probably like any kid feels about a divorce. Sad. Confused. Relieved,” she added, her voice quiet.
That pulled at his gut. Was it even possible that Blake had used his fists on them, too? “Did your ex ever—”
She walked to the side of the van, opened the driver’s-side door and got in. She started the engine. Finally, she turned her head sideways and made eye contact. “Never. He knew I’d kill him if he did that.”
Tuesday, 6:15 p.m.
She had been having a pretty good day until her ex-husband had decided to show up at the church. The restaurant had been pleasantly busy, and when she’d left at two to attend Adie’s Thanksgiving Day party at her kindergarten, the sun had been shining and she’d been excited about Chase and Raney’s upcoming wedding. She and Trish were determined that the reception was going to be phenomenal. For what Chase was paying them, he deserved something special.
After the party, she’d driven Adie home and waited another half hour for Keagan to get home from school. It was his first year at Ravesville High, and he detested it when she picked him up in the van. “I’m not a little kid,” he’d say.
He wasn’t. But neither was a fourteen-year-old boy an adult. She was full-time busy trying to balance her natural tendency to keep him close and protected with the reality that she needed to let go, let him have more independence, let him make more decisions, even let him make a few mistakes.
When she’d been that age, she’d been an adult. Out of necessity. What was it Trish used to say? We were pushed out of the nest early, and we had to either fly or crash. They’d flapped their wings hard and managed to stay in the air, taking turns buying groceries, cooking dinner, doing laundry.
They’d had each other, and together, they’d managed to mostly hide a big secret.
She didn’t want anything like that for Keagan. Generally, all she really hoped for was for him to pick up his clothes off the floor and shower regularly.
Today, once he’d got home, they’d had a brief conversation, which mainly consisted of her brightly telling him about her day and asking about his and getting a few grunts in response. Then she’d left him in charge of Adie. In the past, she’d have had her mom come over to watch the kids. They loved having Grandma at the house. But in the past year or so, if she was going to be gone for only an hour or so at a time, Keagan watched Adie so that he could earn some babysitting money to buy a new bike.
She was proud of him for realizing that he needed to work for the money, that she simply wouldn’t be able to hand over a couple hundred dollars. The restaurant was doing well, and she and Trish were able to take small salaries, but by the time she paid rent and all the other assorted bills of raising children, there was little left.
She couldn’t count on Gary. He was now over six months behind in child support. And he had become more and more volatile over the past months. She still had sore ribs that substantiated that today’s incident had not been an isolated event.
But never before had it been a public event, and she was mortified. Bad enough that Chase and Cal Hollister and their wonderful fiancées should witness it, but having Bray be the one to break it up had been almost more than she could be expected to bear.
He looked fabulous. He had his thick brown hair pulled back into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, and the short beard he wore, which was so popular now, made him look super sexy and...well, even a little dangerous.
And when he’d had Gary on his knees, practically begging for relief, it had been easy to see that it wasn’t false advertising. He’d always been a tough guy. Probably why the Marines had been a natural fit. And now that he was a DEA agent, his natural persona had been fine-tuned and he was sleek and dangerous.
Gary wasn’t that tough, but he did play dirty, and she’d tried to warn Bray. Bray would find his car towed for parking too close to a fire hydrant or get a ticket for going thirty-four in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. Or worse. He’d come out after an evening meal and find his windshield cracked or his tires flat. That was what had happened to the one man Summer had dated postdivorce. Needless to say, the poor guy hadn’t bothered to call again.
And she was powerless to do anything about Gary. Because he knew the secret. He was part of the secret.
At the intersection, she stopped at the four-way sign. To the left was the Wright Here, Wright Now Café. At night, it was under Trish’s careful watch, allowing Summer to be home with the kids. If she went to the café tonight, her twin would instantly sense that something was wrong, and she’d force Summer to blurt out the truth.
No, she’d leave the vases in the van tonight and unload them tomorrow. She wasn’t ready to deal with her reaction to Bray, let alone talk about it to someone else. Plus, she’d probably left Keagan and Adie alone together for long enough. She turned right and drove the mile to her house. It wasn’t until she was pulling into the one-car attached garage that she noticed the car behind her.
For a quick minute, she thought it might be Gary, back for round two. But it wasn’t.
She got out and faced Bray Hollister, who was acting as if he had every right to follow her home and park in her driveway. “What are you doing here?” she said, almost wincing when she heard how bitchy she sounded.
It was just that seeing him again after so many years was too much. She hadn’t had time to prepare, time to put up her defenses. She’d been ready for him to be at the wedding reception, and she’d already planned on how she would handle the encounter. She’d be polite, a little distant, too busy to chat for long.
Now
