Deserving of Luke (5 page)

“Then don't feel the need to stick around here.”

“Penny—”

“No, I mean it. If it's best for you and Luke, I want you to go back to California. As soon as possible.”

The thought had appeal. Definite appeal. And yet— “I don't know if that's going to work. It might already be too late.”

“How can it be too late? You just saw the man an hour ago.”

Penny was right, Paige knew she was. But the doubts at the base of her spine told her she was already in too deep. That if she ran now, it would destroy any chance she had of dealing with Logan in a mature, low-key manner. “It just is. Trust me.” She reached for a box of cereal. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“In my hand.” Penny all but ripped it away from her and shooed her toward the back door. “Why don't you get out of here? You've had a rough day. I insist you relax for a few minutes while I finish putting this stuff away.”

“I don't want to go relax. I'm so wound up that I might be able to orbit the planet under my own power.”

“All the more reason to get out of here. A walk
on the beach will help you clear your head. Then we can make dinner together, before I challenge you to a virtual tennis match.”

This time Paige's laugh
was
real. “We've been here less than two days and you're already as addicted to that Wii as Luke is.”

“That's because it's all kinds of awesome. Now go.”

Paige headed out the door, but stopped on the threshold. “You know, Mike was a fool.”

“You won't get an argument from me. Waiting until I sank all my money into this place to make our dream come true before taking off. He deserves whatever bad karma he gets—and I hope it's a boatload. But I refuse to spend any more time being miserable over his disappearance. Not when it brought you back to me.”

Unsure of how to deal with the naked emotion in her sister's eyes—honest, adult communication had never been one of her strong suits—Paige cleared her throat. “Maybe I will go for that walk after all.”

Penny grinned. “You better take a sweater. It might be June, but it still gets pretty cold when the breeze rolls in from the ocean.” She tossed one toward Paige. “And don't come back for at least an hour. You need a break before I put you to work painting.”

She left the large, decrepit beach house her sister had gotten stuck with when her fiancé had walked
out, and wondered what exactly she was supposed to do for the next little while as she had, for all intents and purposes, been banished from the house. If Penny seemed to think Paige needed a walk, maybe a walk was exactly what she would have. It wasn't as though she didn't like the ocean, after all. In Los Angeles they lived only a few blocks from the water and she made a point of taking Luke to the beach at least once a week.

But the water in L.A. was different than the water here. Calmer, warmer. And less laden with memories.

She wasn't going to let those memories bother her, though, she reminded herself as she descended the short flight of stairs from her sister's yard to the rocky, isolated beach. She'd promised that to herself when she'd made the decision to come to help Penny get the house ready for guests, had promised herself that she wouldn't let herself get caught up in the past.

Besides nine years was long enough to change her from the scared, insecure girl who had looked for affection in all the wrong places into a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it.

The trick was to avoid getting so bogged down in what used to be that she forgot what was.

With that thought foremost in her mind, Paige slipped her shoes off and walked where the water
met the sand. Though the dark blue water was cold—nearly frigid, really—she enjoyed the feel of it tickling her toes, licking at her ankles. The sand squished beneath her heels, then between her toes as the water receded, before her prints washed away with each new wave.

For a minute, she wished the past could be washed away as easily.

But, no, that wasn't exactly true, was it? Because if she hadn't made the mistakes she had, she wouldn't have Luke. And without him, she never would have made it after everything that happened here. After Logan had—

She cut the thought off before it could take hold. Damn this town and all the memories it evoked. In L.A. she could go weeks, months even, without thinking about him. But here, on this beach, looking out at the choppy, wind-razed Pacific it was almost impossible to keep thoughts of him at bay. Especially when she looked at Luke, here in Prospect. He looked so much like his father that here, in all of her old haunts, nearly everything he did evoked memories she would rather forget.

No matter how hard things had been, no matter how difficult those first months and years had been after she'd moved to L.A., she wouldn't change a thing. Not if changing things meant she lost even a little bit of what she'd worked so hard to give Luke.

Stability.

Security.

Unconditional love.

Three things she'd never had growing up with two parents who despised her. Three things she swore her child would never do without.

A large wave rolled onto the beach, soaking her to her knees and spraying up onto her thighs and stomach. Paige laughed, a gasping, sucking kind of sound as she tried to ignore the bone-jarring cold that had invaded at the first brush of the water. Because, though it was freezing, it felt good. Felt wonderful to throw her troubles into the surf and let them roll a little farther out to sea.

It was as she watched the ebb and flow of the waves, savoring the feel of the cold water against her skin, that Paige made a decision.

For the time she was here, for the two months she'd promised her sister she would help with the inn, she would live in the present.

She would forget the past, forget the mistakes she'd made and the hurts she'd both inflicted and received, and focus instead on the good things she had. Luke. Penny. A job she loved waiting for her in L.A. and the chance to use everything she'd learned on that job to make the eyesore her sister had bought into something truly amazing.

And when she was done… When she was done,
she would leave Prospect for good. But this time she would do it on her own terms, knowing that she had truly put the ghosts of her past to rest, once and for all.

T
HE DRIVE TO
P
ENNY
M
ATTHEWS'S
beach house seemed to take forever. Even the call he'd gotten from his mother, demanding to know if the rumors she'd been bombarded with were true—was Paige Matthews back in town,
with his son
—hadn't kept the fifteen-minute drive out of town from dragging. It had been a hell of a conversation to have. After the way his mother had hung up, he wasn't altogether sure he'd ever be allowed in the door of his parents' house again. At least he'd be in good company. Between Paige, Luke, his father's ex-lovers and his sister's children, the number of people who
were
permitted to cross the threshold dwindled a little more each year.

But when he could scarcely make sense of this situation, how could he possibly explain it in a way that would appease his exacting mother? All he knew was from the moment he'd laid eyes on the boy, from the moment he'd realized that Paige had given birth to his child, every brain cell he possessed had been
working on overdrive, struggling to find the right words to say to her.

He'd almost blown it at the diner earlier and he was sorry for that. The last thing he wanted to do was make his son uncomfortable. But the shock of seeing him, of knowing that his child had been alive and growing for eight years… It had been almost impossible to see past it.

At least until Paige had called him on it. She'd always been able to do that, even when they were kids. He'd start on a path he had no business going down and she would rein him in. Until the end, when she'd walked out on him, as if trying to convince him that Luke was his hadn't been worth her time. Her effort. As if the fact that she was pregnant with his child hadn't been enough to make her fight for them.

Thinking of those long-ago arguments had his emotions rising again, though he'd worked all afternoon to control them. Joni had been furious with him when he'd returned to the diner, had accused him of humiliating her in front of the whole town. Then she'd walked out.

But, honestly, he didn't know what else he'd been supposed to do. How he should have reacted to the knowledge that he had a kid and that kid's mother hadn't so much as bothered to tell him.

Doubt and a little bit of guilt twisted at the back
of his consciousness because he knew that assertion wasn't strictly true, but he shoved both emotions aside. Ignored them. She'd had ample opportunity over the years to tell him she'd had his child. That's what he would concentrate on when he spoke to her. That and not losing his temper, which was going to be a hard one, because right now he was one step away from feeling as though his head would explode.

The only truly coherent thought he had was that Paige had stolen his child. She had left town, pregnant with his baby, and had never bothered to contact him again.

Had never bothered to tell him that the baby had been born.

Had never bothered to tell him that he was a father.

Had never bothered to send him so much as a picture on the kid's first or second or seventh birthday.

By the time he pulled up in front of the dilapidated house, he was even more determined to settle things between them. He wanted an explanation, now, and he would get it even if he had to slap cuffs on Paige and drag her into the interrogation room at the station. One way or the other, they were going to figure this out, tonight.

He bounded up the steps and prepared to knock hard enough to wake the dead.

“You look loaded for bear.” The words were said in
a low, relaxed voice—one he recognized immediately because he'd heard the same tone from Paige innumerable times they'd been together. Her voice was a little deeper now, a little richer, but all the important elements were the same.

Whirling, he scanned the shadows cast by the single, yellow porch light until he found her, sitting on the swing, a glass of white wine dangling carelessly from one hand and a cell phone from the other.

Her short blond hair was rumpled and she was dressed in a purple tank top and a pair of ripped and faded jeans that probably cost more than he made in a month. She still smelled like lilacs. Her feet were bare and something about her small, blue-tipped toes calmed him in a way nothing else could have. Maybe because they made him remember what it had been like to be with her all those years ago, what it had been like to love her.

When they'd been together, she had always painted her toenails some mysterious color that none of the other girls would go near but that somehow drove him absolutely insane nonetheless. He'd been too stupid to realize it hadn't all been for him, that he wasn't the only guy in town she'd been showing her polish—and other things—to.

The red haze threatened to return, and he did what he could to head it off. They would get nothing
accomplished if they were yelling at each other, a realization he figured Paige had come to herself some time that afternoon, if her smooth greeting was any indicator. That or the glass of wine in her hand wasn't her first.

Sinking onto the swing across from her, he didn't say anything at first. Simply looked at her. Noted all the changes and all the things that had stayed the same through the years. Suddenly he couldn't think of anything
to
say.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Her voice was husky, sweet, and it sent shivers up his spine even as he told himself how stupid he was to respond to her. She'd lied to him, had—

“No, thanks. I'm driving.”

“That's right. You're a cop now. A law-abiding citizen. I'm having a hard time reconciling the new you with the guy I used to know.”

“I was always a law-abiding citizen. I only liked to pretend otherwise.”

“I remember.” She took a sip of her wine.

“You look good,” he said.

“L.A. agrees with me. Certainly more than Prospect ever did.”

Memories stretched between them, hanging on the silence like apples on a tree, ripe for the picking. He chose to ignore them, to walk past as though he wasn't suddenly starving for a taste of them. Of her.

“His name's Luke,” she said quietly, when the silence got to be too much for both of them. “It's short for Lucas.”

“That's a nice name.”

“I think so. It was my neighbor's, when I first moved to L.A. He helped me get settled, learn my way around. He even drove me to the hospital and waited while Luke was born. I don't know what I would have done without him.”

The anger surged, burning so hotly and brightly that he couldn't think past it. “You could have come to me. You could have told me you were pregnant with our child. Then I would have been the one to be there, to help you.”

“Is that how you remember it?” she asked offhandedly, as if his answer meant nothing to her.

“That's how it would have been. I would have been with you every step of the way—”

“Is that so? Because the way I remember it is, I told you I was pregnant with your child and you called me a whore—right before you tossed me out of your house.”

“You were sleeping with my best friend, with half the guys on the football team. How the hell was I supposed to believe the kid you were carrying was mine?”

“I wasn't sleeping with half the football team. I wasn't sleeping with anyone but you. Only you didn't
want to believe that. Any more than you wanted to accept that you'd gotten me pregnant.

“Accepting responsibility for that act would have meant you couldn't live the perfect life mapped out for you. The one that mommy and daddy wanted you to live. The one that didn't include the slutty girl from the wrong side of the river.”

She was breathing hard by the time she finished, her chest rising and falling with each harsh inhalation. He probably shouldn't be cheered by that fact, but it made him feel better to know that she wasn't nearly as calm about this whole thing as she pretended to be.

He didn't answer for a minute, instead turning to stare into the inky blackness that surrounded the house. Looking at her brought back too many memories, including ones of how badly he'd treated her nine years before.

But he wasn't ready to deal with those memories yet—or the words she had just flung at him. Didn't know if he'd ever be ready now that he knew she'd kept his child from him. How easy would it have been for her to return after his son was born and force him to see her and their child? No, he wasn't going to let her turn this around. She could have played things way differently all those years ago.

“Look,” he said, “I know your past is something
you're ashamed of, but you can't rewrite history to—”

She stood. “Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, rising slowly so that they were face to face. Or, in this case, face to chest, since he stood about six inches taller than she did.

“You heard me. If you think you're going to come here and insult me after all these years, then you're crazy. I'm not that girl anymore, the one who was so used to being a whipping post that she took insults from everyone—including the guy who was supposed to love her. So, leave. You're not welcome here.”

Though he knew there was an important message in her words, he could only handle so much at one time and his brain focused on the fact that she was kicking him out, denying him access to his son.

“You can't do this. I have rights when it comes to my son.”

“You gave up those rights the day you threw me out on my ass and told me never to come back. It was the same day you told me you'd never give my bastard your name and that I should head back to the freak show because you were done slumming.”

He winced, shocked at how sharp his words had been, at how they still had the power to cut like a knife, even after all these years. “I was angry,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, well, whoop-de-do. Let's stop the presses.
Logan Powell was angry. Obviously, that gave you the right to do whatever you wanted. To hurt whomever you wanted.”

“I think you have that backward.
You
hurt
me
. I thought I was in love with you only to find out you were sleeping with a bunch of my buddies. What the hell did you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to believe me when I told you they were lying to you, trying to get you upset.”

“Why would they do that?” he demanded. “They knew how I felt about you.”

“How the hell should I know? They were
your
friends. What I never understood, not then and not now, is how you could believe them so easily? You said you loved me, yet the second your friends started with their dirty insinuations, you dumped me. Dumped our child like we were nothing.”

Her words hit home, a little too closely for his comfort. But at the same time, he had a hard time believing that his friends had been lying about her. Some of those guys were his best friends to this day, had stood up with him at his wedding. They knew almost everything about each other. Surely he would know if they were liars. He was a cop, for God's sake. It was his job to know those kinds of things.

Still, he was disconcerted enough by the idea that he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
“Why wouldn't I believe them? It's not like you were a virgin when we had sex for the first time.”

She reeled in shock, as if his words had been an actual physical blow to her. And maybe they had been. Her past was not something most women would be proud of. Still, he hadn't meant to hit her with it so bluntly.

But when her eyes narrowed, he realized he'd misread the signs. She wasn't hurt or upset. She was as furious as he was. “Oh. And you
were
a virgin?” she demanded. “Because I seem to remember you running around with a number of girls before me, all of whom you admitted to sleeping with.”

“Yeah, but—” He bit off the words before he could dig himself in even deeper, but it was too late.

“But, what? It's different for you, because you're a guy?”

“I wasn't going to say that,” he protested, wondering how the hell this whole conversation had been turned around until he was the one on the defensive.

“Then what?”

“I don't know. I mean, it's not like your past ever bothered me—”

“Oh, really? Because I figure it bothered you a hell of a lot if you were so willing to toss me out because of a few whispers from your friends.”

“It wasn't just a few whispers.” Completely
frustrated, he turned away from her. Walked over to the railing. Some of the overgrown bushes were visible in the dim light from the porch and he wondered vaguely if Penny and Paige had any idea what they were in for as they tried to rehab this house. It really was a disaster.

“Look, how I once felt about your past is pretty much a moot point, don't you think?” he asked. “What's important is Luke and where we go from here.”

For a second he didn't think she was going to respond, but finally she sighed and said, “So, where do you see this going?”

There it was, the question he had been asking himself since he got his first glimpse of Luke that afternoon in Prospector's. He'd turned it over in his head a million times in the last ten hours, and though he still had a lot of unanswered questions—a lot of concerns and misgivings—there was one thing he was certain of. “I want to be a part of his life.”

 

E
VEN THOUGH SHE'D PREPARED
herself for it, even though she'd known it was coming, the words were still a tremendous blow. How could they not be? Luke had been hers—exclusively hers—almost from the moment she'd known of his existence. The idea that she was now expected to share him with someone else—and not just anyone else, but with the man who
had rejected him, rejected her, without listening to her side of the story—grated the way nothing else ever had.

Her knee-jerk reaction was to snatch up Luke and run as fast and as far away from this god-awful town as she could possibly manage. In L.A. she had friends to support her, a job that paid the bills very nicely, a kickass attorney who wouldn't let Logan within a hundred yards of Luke. It sounded really tempting.