he said, “that really sucks, Mal.”
What did? The fact that they’d both been too young, immature and ill-prepared to deal with the kind of situation a pregnancy had caused? To be honest, even now, with her education and maturity, she still felt a little out of her league when parenting a boy who’d lost so much in such a few short years.
“I can’t believe you’d do that,” Rick said.
Apparently, they weren’t both on the same page. “Do what?”
“Let Lucas think that I didn’t want him.”
At that, Mallory leaned forward. “Oh, my gosh, Rick. I’d never tell him something like that. For one thing, that would have crushed him.”
Rick settled back into the sofa cushion as if relieved. Then, almost as quickly, he straightened up again. “Then what did you tell him?”
“I told him—” Mallory paused for a beat, hating to admit it, then pressed on “—that you died.”
Rick’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why in the hell did you tell him that?”
She hadn’t meant to lie, but she’d thought about it over the years. And she’d realized that something innocent and fragile had died inside her when Rick had signed those adoption papers and told her to do whatever she wanted. Then, when she’d had to choose between staying in Boston to be near Lucas or returning to Brighton Valley and Rick, she’d had to bury whatever memories they’d once had—and any hope of a future together.
“At the time it seemed like the easiest way to explain your absence in our lives. Besides, I wasn’t sure what had happened to you. I knew that Joey ran away. And given the rumors I’d heard about the fights you’d been involved in and all the drinking, I’d assumed the same thing had happened to you.” She almost mentioned his uncle’s trial and conviction, but decided to let that ride for now.
Rick stretched his arm out across the back of her sofa. “Listen, Mallory. I’ll admit that I got into a lot of trouble after you left Brighton Valley, but when you didn’t come back home like you said you would and wouldn’t return my calls, I fell into my old habits. In fact, without you in school, I couldn’t see any point in being there, either, so I dropped out before Thanksgiving.”
She ought to feel a bit justified at the anger she’d carried for years, yet a surge of sympathy shot through her instead, urging her to rise up from her chair, and sit next to him, under his outstretched arm... To lean her head against his shoulder, to caress his knee, to offer words of compassion....
What was wrong with her?
Ten years had passed since she’d last seen him, and yet she still found herself struggling with those same old urges, those same yearnings, those same... What? Feelings?
No, not those. Not anymore. She was no longer a foolish and gullible teenager blinded by his charm.
“So you dropped out of school, and that’s my fault?”
Rick’s brow furrowed, and his eye twitched. “Yeah, well, back then, I blamed you.”
“You don’t now?”
“Not for me dropping out of school. That was my own choice, but I rectified it.” Rick placed his hand on the sofa’s armrest, then stood. “I’m going to go before we both say things that would be better left unsaid. But just so you know, I’m going to respect your wishes and keep my true identity under wraps for the time being.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“But don’t take too long figuring out a comfortable way to set him straight.”
“I’ll do my best.” She got to her feet, too. “Thank you for understanding.”
They merely stood there for a moment. Then Rick moved a couple paces forward, reached for her hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze with a firm grip, sending a bevy of goose bumps fluttering up her arms. “You’ve got a week, Mallory.”
Then he released her hand, leaving her in the middle of the living room as he headed for the door.
A week? She wasn’t sure she was following him. “You mean...?”
As he opened the front door, he turned and glanced over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto hers. “You have one week—seven days—to resurrect me.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll tell Lucas myself.”
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