some tough moments, but they’d worked through a lot of their past hurts.
And they were slowly finding their way back to a better version of the best they’d ever been.
She didn’t want that progress slowed. Or damaged.
Yet there she was, right back to being in the spotlight and needing Lacey’s help.
And she absolutely did not want her sister to think that she’d gone back on her word and started drinking heavily or partying again.
What she did want was to be in control of her life. And accountable for it.
Forgetting Bo for the moment, not caring about dinner or theaters or anything in Hollywood, she speed-dialed her sister’s number. Tried to feel what Lacey would feel when she heard the news.
And got in her own way. She couldn’t feel her sister when she was too busy feeling herself.
The call took less than two minutes.
Lacey was great—passionate and compassionate. Ready to do whatever it took to wipe the planet of any demon that might dare to venture into Kacey’s life.
Not for one second did she indicate, in any way, that she had even the slightest doubt that the image was Photoshopped.
She said she’d call Mike Valentine immediately.
Told Kacey she loved her.
And went back to her life. More specifically, she was going to join Jem and Levi for a trip to the local ice cream store.
After she ended the call, Kacey stood alone in the Beverly Hills restroom, wishing she had what Lacey had.
A home in Santa Raquel with her own family.
A life she’d purposely chosen.
A path she understood.
MIKE WASN’T THE least bit surprised when Lacey’s call included an invitation for him to come right over and check out her machine. Lacey and Jem Bridges were just that way—open doors and willingness to help written all over them. As a social worker, Lacey offering a helping hand seemed natural. Jem was just plain one of the nicest guys Mike had ever met.
He also had an embarrassing and never to be spoken of—or even fully acknowledged to himself—sense of brotherhood with Jem. Like Mike, Jem had suffered at the hand of a loved one. Equally as bad, worse in Mike’s case, was the world knowing he was a victim. That sense of people looking at you with pity could make you feel less...manly if you let it. Jem didn’t. At all.
Mike didn’t, either.
Hence the brotherhood.
It ended there. Unlike Jem’s abuse, Mike’s injury had had nothing to do with a loved one purposely attacking him. Mike’s injury was the result of a complete and total accident. A tragic accident that had...
No.
Kacey had touched his chest...telling him he was beautiful...
No. He was not looking back. There was no point wondering what could have been.
If not for the bullet that had ripped his face apart, he never would have met Kacey. Known the joy of her friendship.
He’d have been married to Susan, fully entrenched in the corporate world in whatever city made him the best offer, and probably spending Saturdays driving their kids places.
Not a bad picture.
But not Kacey.
And he wouldn’t have been able to help out the Lemonade Stand, either, or had such close relationships with his parents and siblings.
“Mike, come in!” Lacey stepped back, pulling the door open wider, as Jem came forward to shake his hand.
“What’s up, man?” Jem fist-bumped him on the shoulder with his free hand, a grin on his face.
“Business, unfortunately,” Mike answered as though he’d rehearsed his response. Which he had.
He wasn’t there because he was hot for Kacey. He was working.
As soon as it became anything else, people would start pitying him.
And this time, with reason. If he was stupid enough to fall for her, he’d deserve to be pitied.
He might find the daytime-soap star hot, he might even enjoy her company, but he most definitely did not want to queue up in her line of men.
He was a one-woman kind of guy who liked the quiet life. A geek who liked his own company.
He would hate being a part of the crazy mélange that was Kacey’s Beverly Hills life.
The thought of enduring even one week of that lifestyle gave him cold sweats.
Much more effective than a cold shower.
“I’m going to be playing T-ball. You like watching T-ball?”
Shaking errant thoughts from his mind, Mike focused on the five-year-old who’d just approached licking a soggy chocolate ice cream cone.
“Yes, Levi, it just so happens I do like watching T-ball,” he said, nodding. “I used to like to play, too, and watch my little brothers play.”
“Cool. Maybe you could come watch me sometime.”
From what he’d been told by his secret friend, Kacey attended every Levi event she could. But T-ball games often happened on weeknights. And Kacey would be in LA.
“Maybe I could,” he told the little boy and tensed at the same time.
What are you doing, man?
What if Levi’s team made it to a tournament? The family would expect him to come cheer the team on. Tournament games were on Saturdays and...
“Levi, you’d best lick fast.” Jem tapped his son’s shoulder and pointed him toward the hallway. “It’s your bedtime. And Mr. Valentine’s a busy man.”
Yes. He was. And he was there to work. He watched the dark-haired boy walk down the hallway with his dad, remembering Kacey’s tears the first time she’d talked about the abuse the little guy had suffered at the hands of his biological mother.
Thank God for Jem. And Lacey. Levi seemed like a perfectly normal, happy kid.
“It’s so great of you to do this,” Lacey said as she led Mike to the home office she shared with her husband. “I know you’re crazy busy—hence a house call after eight at night...”
He shrugged. Work was a high to him. He was the best at what he did. “Saved me from dinner with Charlie and her brood,” he said, though, truth be told, he generally enjoyed dinner
