A Forever Kind of Guy: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 2 (22 page)

Hayley was determined to be her most gracious. She had nothing to hide. If she couldn’t pass muster for DCW, they’d remove Fletcher from her care sooner rather than later. Then she’d have no reason not to move forward with her relocation plan.

“Yes, thank you.” Callie followed her inside. Hayley went to the kitchen, feeling the woman’s gaze follow her and take in her surroundings at the same time. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink. She needed to run a vacuum over the living area carpeting. Fletcher’s Legos and Lincoln Logs were haphazardly piled on the coffee table, and several of his little trucks were scattered across the sofa.

“Please have a seat. Do you need cream or sugar?”

“A touch of cream, please,” Callie replied. She moved some of the toys aside and sat.

Hayley glanced at the clock on the stove. It was barely eight a.m. Talk about a wake-up call.

She set Callie’s coffee on the table in front of her. Callie removed a file from her stuffed case and opened it. “How are things going? How is Fletcher doing?”

“He’s fine. You saw him at the park yesterday and—”

Hayley’s words ground to a halt as Ray appeared, his clothes as wrinkled as hers, his flip-flops dangling from his fingers.

Callie turned around to see what had snagged Hayley’s interest.

Ray halted the moment he realized what he’d walked into. His gaze briefly clashed with Hayley’s. Then he seemed to make a decision. He came into the room like he owned it, which he did, and greeted the social worker.

“Ms. Maxwell, isn’t it? Great to see you.” He shook her hand. She stared at him, her expression a mixture of bemusement and disapproval.

“Mr. Braddock.”

Ray dropped his flip-flops and stepped into them. “Well, hey, I have to get going. I need to let Oscar out.” He glanced at Hayley. “Thanks for…uh, last night was…I have to go.”

Hayley watched the door close behind him. She turned back to Callie and smiled weakly. Callie raised her eyebrows as if hoping Hayley would say something, but Hayley had learned one thing from going through a nasty divorce. Never volunteer anything. Give direct answers to direct questions. If she tried to explain her relationship with Ray, well, she wouldn’t be able to. And she was pretty sure Callie wouldn’t believe her if she said Ray had spent the night in her bed but nothing had happened.

Callie scribbled something on one of the pages in her file. She glanced back up at Hayley. “I’d like to take a look around, if that’s all right.”

“Sure. Fletcher’s still asleep.”

“I won’t disturb him.” Callie hauled herself up and walked down the hall.

Hayley went back to the kitchen and rinsed the dishes in the sink and put them in the dishwasher. Callie wouldn’t find anything objectionable, she was sure. An unmade bed. A relatively clean bathroom. She kept Fletcher’s bedroom as neat as possible. She wasn’t slovenly. Fletcher had a decent home. If there was a big question mark in her file because of Ray’s presence here this morning, well, too bad. Ray was a good influence on Fletcher. Fletcher loved him.
He’s a good influence on me too
, Hayley decided. He didn’t judge her. Didn’t expect her to be anyone except who she was. He was loyal, probably to a fault. He’d stuck it out through her teary breakdown last night.

And then there’s the ripple effect. Don’t forget the ripple effect.
Oh yeah. Every time she saw him, that feeling that had her leaning toward him without even moving a muscle. Too bad if Callie Maxwell didn’t like it. Too bad if she didn’t understand how tough it was to try and make a home for a little boy all by herself and to be scrutinized by the state every step of the way.

Hayley was viciously scrubbing the sink while her thoughts went round and round. When Callie spoke, she jumped in surprise. “Everything looks fine. You can relax, you know. I don’t bite.”

Hayley eased her grip on the sponge and set it aside. She eyed the woman, trying to determine her intent.

She went back to the sofa and her cooling cup of coffee. Hayley resumed her seat across from her.

“How much time does Fletcher spend with Ray?”

Hayley hesitated. “He’s—Ray’s around a lot. We’ve become—” What? Good friends? Close? Yes, both of those, but neither description defined what was between her and Ray.

“What?” Callie asked. She took a sip of her coffee.

Hayley shrugged. “It’s hard to describe. But Ray’s around a lot. Fletcher adores him. Ray got a puppy from the pound. A boxer he named Oscar.”

“After Oscar de le Hoya.” Callie grinned. “Cute.”

Hayley nodded. “He lets Fletcher help him with the dog. They go on walks. Fletch goes over in the afternoons when Ray gets home, hangs out with him for a little while before dinner.”

“Are you and Ray dating?”

Hayley squirmed. She and Ray had never been on a date. “Not exactly. Not in the traditional sense.”

“Uh huh.” Callie scribbled something else in her file.

Fletcher chose that moment to make an appearance. He had his beat-up teddy bear clutched in one hand and the yellow foam-covered bat Ray had bought him in the other. Every night he set the foam ball on the nightstand next to his bed and leaned the bat up against it. As Ray must have known it would, the bat and ball provided an enjoyable diversion from the nightly Candyland games. Ray coached Fletcher on the proper batting stance, praising him when he connected with the ball especially well. Hayley participated as well, knowing it was better than parking Fletcher in front of cartoons. When neither of them was available, Fletcher didn’t mind retrieving the ball for himself.

Now he hesitated much the same way Ray had when he realized they had a visitor. “Hi, Fletch.” Hayley waved him over. “You want to come and sit by me? Miss Maxwell is here to visit us.”

Dragging his bat alongside, Fletcher crawled up on the sofa close to Hayley and let her put an arm around him. She kissed the top of his head. She loved his rumpled little-boy look first thing in the morning. Hayley liked to think he didn’t quite have all his defenses aligned the moment he got out of bed.

“How are you, Fletcher?” Callie asked softly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Fletcher squeezed his bear and stared at the social worker. Imperceptibly, he moved closer to Hayley.

Chapter Nineteen

Fletcher fell asleep after one Dr. Seuss book, and Hayley counted her blessings as she tucked the sheet around him and kissed his cheek. Whatever else went on inside his head, Fletcher wasn’t tormented by nightmares and ordinarily fell asleep quickly and slept through the night.

In the kitchen, she prepared the next day’s lunches and tidied up from the simple meal she’d made earlier. She hadn’t seen Ray all day, except from the window when Fletcher had gone over to visit him and Oscar in the afternoon. For the past several days, Ray had given her lots of space. Maybe by now he’d thought better of whatever it was that had developed between them. Surely she had too much baggage for him to deal with no matter what he’d said the other night. He’d be right to run the other way. In fact, she should encourage him to do just that, because she didn’t want to string him along. She didn’t want to hurt him.

Hayley reached for her bottle of wine after she stowed the lunch bags in the refrigerator. Maybe she’d forgo her cigarette tonight. For once it seemed like more trouble than it was worth to get the pack out of the high cabinet and unwrap it. She poured a glass of wine and headed for the door. Maybe Ray would join her for a little while. She missed him.

No sooner had she seated herself than a car crept down the darkened street. It cruised past the mailbox at the end of the drive then braked and reversed. Hayley watched as it pulled into the driveway and parked behind her Mustang. Probably someone Ray knew. She didn’t recognize the car, and none of the few acquaintances she had locally would have reason to come visit her unannounced at this time of the night.

The driver killed the engine and the lights. The door popped open, and the interior lights illuminated him for a moment before he exited the vehicle and closed the door.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Hayley had dreamt of this moment. She’d thought about all the things she’d say, how glorious she would be as the wronged yet still noble party. But now her throat constricted. With trembling fingers, she set her wineglass on the nearby table.

The driver approached the duplex and paused for a moment, but then must have made a decision and veered in her direction. She stayed where she was, in the dark, for she’d forgotten to bring matches to light her candle.

He opened the screen door and let it fall shut behind him. He stood still, as if his eyes were still adjusting to the dim light. But he had to have seen her, or at least the outline of her. The weak interior light shone through the window.

“Hayley?”

“Trey.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice even. The trembling of a moment before had ceased. She waited for the ripple effect, because even though she’d been married to Trey, he never failed to affect her with his mere presence. Where was that heart-stopping flood of excitement? The adrenaline rush that started in the pit of her stomach and radiated to every limb and cell until she could hardly stand upright or think?

It had been replaced, apparently, by a sort of cool detachment. She thought she’d known Trey, thought their love would last forever. But he’d taken it and trampled on it. Destroyed it. She didn’t know him at all. That must be why it was easy to treat him like a stranger.

“Hey, honey. How have you been?” He advanced toward her. She looked up, and he must have seen a glint of warning in her eyes, even in the dark, because he halted.

“What do you want, Trey?” Her tone surprised her. Cool. Detached. Slightly annoyed. It must have surprised Trey too, because he shuffled a bit and shoved his hands in his pockets, no longer sure of himself or his welcome.

“I wanted to see you. Talk to you. I’ve missed you, honey.”

Surprising herself again, Hayley laughed. Trey’s words were so ludicrous, such an outright, obvious lie, incredulous laughter was the only response she was capable of.

When her laughter died, she picked up her wineglass and took a sip. She held it in both hands, her fingers caressing the stem and the bottom of the bowl. “What do you want, Trey?”

“Can I sit down?”

Hayley waved to the other chair. Could that be a trace of humility she heard in Trey’s voice? Unlikely. But still.

“How are you?”

He almost sounded sincere.

“I’m fine. Great. Life’s a bowl of cherries. What do you want, Trey?”

Hayley took another big sip of wine, a sense of recklessness sweeping through her.

“Wow. You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you, darlin’?” Trey sent her one of his trademark “Aw shucks” grins and ran his fingers through his blond-tipped hair as if he were uncertain of the situation.

Liar
, Hayley wanted to say to him. It was all part of the Trey Christopher small-town-North-Carolina-boy-makes-good act. He’d been perfecting and perpetuating it for years. The press fell for it, as did every perky, nubile cheerleader over the age of eighteen. She’d merely been the first and the longest-lasting in a succession of gullible women who fell for his act.

She sipped her wine and said nothing. She’d be out here drinking her glass of wine whether Trey was here or not, she reminded herself. She was in no particular hurry to go in. Thank God, she’d learned to keep her mouth shut these past couple of years. Never say more than you have to, never give anything away. Let the other person do the talking. The less you say the better.

“I want another chance,” Trey blurted out.

Hayley turned to look at him. Her ears were ringing. She hadn’t heard him correctly. Another chance? With her? No. No way. He couldn’t possibly mean that. Probably he meant another chance at the pros. But why come and tell her? They were divorced. She no longer had anything to do with his decisions or his career. Besides, she thought his injuries had sidelined him for good.

“Another chance to do what?”

“To be with you.”

It started as a sort of stunned giggle, a reaction to the shock of such a statement. But it turned into a full-out belly laugh Hayley couldn’t control. She laughed until she cried, tears streaming from her eyes. At some point, she thought she heard Ray’s front door open. She didn’t chance a look his way, but she thought she could feel his gaze boring through the screens separating them and across the distance between. Then she thought he went back inside, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Hell, darlin’, how many glasses of wine have you had? I think you’ve hit your limit.”

Trey reached for her glass. She held it more tightly. “Touch it and die,” she warned.

His hand withdrew. “You sure are cold, darlin’. What say we go inside and see if I can warm you up?”

“Are you insane?” Her voice had returned to normal. Another surprise. This was the same emotional roller coaster she’d been on ever since the divorce, but it seemed to be going in the opposite direction. Instead of feeling as if the ride was controlled by an unseen force bent on destroying her, she’d never felt more in control in her life. It felt good.

“Hayley, honey.” Trey’s voice broke. “I messed up so bad.” His voice thickened. “I hurt you so much. And I—and I—I want to make it right.”

Oh God,
Hayley thought wildly. Were those tears? Was Trey
crying?

She softened her voice. “Let’s go inside.” Trey followed her through the door.

“You want something to drink?” she asked. She was pretty sure she needed a second glass of wine.

“Water’s fine, thanks.” Trey sniffed and stood inside the door, gazing at his surroundings through red-rimmed eyes. Hayley poured a glass of water and a half glass of wine and headed for the couch. Trey followed.

She handed him the water. “What’s this all about?”

Trey took a sip of the water. His hand shook slightly. He set the glass on the table. “I got out of rehab two days ago.”

Hayley hadn’t known he’d been
in
rehab. Andre hadn’t mentioned it. But then, Trey was off the team and out of the league, so maybe he hadn’t known, either. Immersed in trying to run her own life, Hayley hadn’t given Trey much thought at all lately.