Discovering You (19 page)

“Tomorrow,” she mumbled and covered a yawn as she drove off. The sun was about to come up. She needed to find a motel.

She pulled out her phone to use her Around Me app and found a text from Rod.

It's getting late. Are you driving back?

God, she missed him already. But she couldn't continue to see him. She had to retain control—of everything—especially her own emotions and the perceptions of others, or she'd only compound her own difficulties. And she couldn't retain control when Rod was around. He made her want things she couldn't have right now—made her want
him
—so she needed to stop seeing him. That was the only safe route to go.

It would be so much easier if he didn't live next door, but...she couldn't change that.

Don't expect me tonight. Might be a few days. I'll let you know when I'm heading back
, she wrote, then pressed Send.

* * *

When Rod heard India's text come in, he woke long enough to check his phone. She wasn't coming home yet. That was good information to have, since he'd roused every so often to check. He was relieved—until he noticed the time. Five thirty. What was she doing awake at this hour? He knew she had trouble sleeping and nearly chalked it up to her insomnia, but there was something odd about her making the decision to stay when it was almost morning. Why hadn't she texted him at eleven or so, after Cassia had gone to bed and she realized she wasn't up for the drive home? Why would she wait until dawn?

Had she been up this whole time, fighting with her in-laws?

He texted her again.

You okay?

Fine.

Would you tell me if you weren't?

Don't worry. I can take care of myself.

That was a no.

So there is a problem. What is it? Did you leave because of that call from Sebastian? Do you think he knows where you live?

When she didn't answer, he called her, but she didn't pick up.

India, I'll help you if you'll let me. Can we have a conversation?

I can't talk to you, Rod.

Why, for God's sake?

Because hearing your voice would only make me feel things I can't feel right now. I have to be strong.

What was she talking about? Something had changed...

Tell me what's going on, damn it! Where are you? Where do your in-laws live?

No response.

Really?

I'm sorry. It wouldn't be right to involve you.

“Shit,” he said and tossed his phone on his nightstand before slumping back on the bed.

She was shutting him out. Again.

18

M
ack felt terrible. Somehow, last night when he'd had too much to drink, he'd come up with the brilliant idea that the best way to keep from making a mistake with Natasha would be to throw himself into the arms of another woman. Surely that would relieve the sexual frustration and longing she evoked, right? So when someone passably attractive started hitting on him, he went with it.

Now that he was sober again, however, he saw what he'd done as an act of futility. He couldn't remember what'd happened last night or whether he'd enjoyed it, but that was mostly because he didn't
want
to remember. He'd made a horrible mistake and, as a result, he had to cope with a huge dose of regret on top of the worst hangover he'd had in years.

Maybe it'd be worth it if he'd managed to change anything, he thought, but sex with this other woman had done nothing to assuage his hunger for Natasha. He wanted to take Natasha to his room this minute and make love to her for hours.

Except he couldn't, of course. For all the same reasons he couldn't do it in the first place. Even if he decided to flip off the rest of the world and be with her, the woman he'd met at Sexy Sadie's hadn't left when they were done last night. Although she had her car, she'd spent the entire night with him, was
still
there. She'd even gotten out of bed when he did, given him a deep-throated kiss that had almost made him gag and proceeded to follow him up the stairs to get some breakfast.

“I can scramble a few eggs, if you like,” she offered.

Before he could answer, Natasha came into the room. His stomach twisted at the sight of her. Her red, swollen eyes left little doubt that she'd been privy to the fact that he'd had a woman over. She looked...battered.

Seeing her like that certainly didn't make him feel better.

As soon as she realized they were no longer alone, his guest turned and smiled. “Oh, hello! I'm Bella,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Who are you?”

“I'm your worst nightmare,” Natasha replied. “You touch me, you'll draw back a stub.”

Bella's eyes widened, and she turned to Mack, so Mack forced a laugh, as if it was a joke. “Don't mind her,” he said. “That's just my little sister.”

The glare Natasha turned on him felt as though it could burn through steel. “Don't you say that,” she said, her voice low, almost threatening. “Don't you
ever
fucking say that! I'm not related to you in
any
way. But you don't have to worry about me anymore. Do you hear? You finally achieved what you've been after. I hate you. I'm sorry I ever thought you were special. The mere sight of you makes me sick,” she said, then whirled around and left.

Mack had never seen so much derision on Natasha's face. He felt eviscerated, as if all his internal organs were spilling out onto the floor. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. It didn't help that he deserved her contempt. Right now he loathed himself as much as she did.

“What was
her
problem?” Barbie asked—no, it was Bella.

He tried to think of something to say that might smooth this over but couldn't come up with anything. He couldn't claim Natasha was crazy or too temperamental, because it wasn't fair to blame
her
. This was
his
fault. Last night he'd justified his actions by telling himself he'd had other women over—quite often. But after Natasha had declared herself, her expectations had changed. What he'd done was selfish and cruel, especially since she didn't have any experience with this kind of jealousy and heartbreak, and probably didn't know how to cope with it.

Bella made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Your parents had better get hold of her, because
she's
a little monster.”

“She's just...” He swallowed the word
hurt
and finished with “confused.”

“If
that's
what you call it, but I've never had anyone be so rude in my whole life. I can't imagine the little bitch has
any
friends.”

“Don't.” He spoke softly, but when he looked up, he could tell she understood that he meant what he'd said. “Don't call her names. Don't say
anything
bad about her.”

“You're taking
her
side?” she cried. “After that whole...stub comment?”

“I
always
take her side,” he said.

With an appalled laugh, she shook her head. “Wow. So what if you've got a hot bod? The rest of you must be as screwed up as she is. What a way to end the night,” she snapped and stomped out.

He hoped she was getting her purse and wouldn't bother to say goodbye. Fortunately, that seemed to be the case. A minute or two later she left, slamming the door behind her.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she was gone, Mack went downstairs to find his phone. Texting Natasha wouldn't do him any good, but he tried despite that.

I'm sorry.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Dylan asked. “I thought you went to lunch.”

Rod clicked away from the screen he'd pulled up on the computer in the front office. “No, I'm checking something while I have a few minutes.”

Dylan cocked his head. “Anything I can help you with?”

Rod could see why he might ask. Rod generally used his phone if he needed the internet at work, but for this extensive a search, he preferred a bigger screen and the ability to navigate more quickly. “I got it.”

Taking one of the empty chairs, Dylan leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. “You, too, huh?”

“Me, too?”

“Maybe it's just me, but it seems like everyone's a little secretive these days.”

“I'm not being
secretive
,” Rod said. “Just...taking care of my own business.”

“And Mack?”

“
He's
being secretive.” Rod took advantage of the distraction but grinned to show he was joking.

“The question is why,” Dylan pressed.

Rod shrugged and looked away. He knew Mack was struggling, but he didn't feel it was his place to say more. “No clue.”

“You'd agree he hasn't been himself lately.”

“What do you mean?” Rod figured the best way to handle Mack's situation was to play dumb.

“He seems upset. Especially today. Haven't you noticed? He's hardly said a word.”

Whatever was going on between Mack and Natasha was getting worse. Rod couldn't miss that. For most of the morning, Mack had kept a close eye on the clock, obviously waiting for Natasha to show up. Rod had texted her himself, since she hadn't been at the house when he went to see if she needed a ride to work. But she hadn't answered him, and she hadn't come in.

Dylan finally called her, and she did pick up, but she told him she was going to spend the day buying supplies and packing and would come over to get caught up on her work after hours.

The fact that she'd be alone at that time—and wouldn't have to see Mack—wasn't lost on Rod.

“He went drinking last night, has a hangover,” Rod said to help cover for Mack's behavior.

“Mack's never been that big a drinker. He hates feeling out of control, hates what alcohol has done to our family. So his drinking is one of the symptoms, not the cause.”

Rod said nothing.

“Should I have a talk with him?” Dylan asked.

“I wouldn't,” Rod replied. “He'll be fine.” With time, Rod believed that was true. And that time would be there once Natasha went to school.

“Okay. I'll let it go for now.” Dylan got up and started to walk out but paused in the office doorway. “How's your hand?”

“I'm getting used to the cast.”

“Good. Any word from Chief Bennett?”

“Not yet, but India told me something that's a little alarming.”

Dylan came back toward him. “What's that?”

After Rod shared what India had overheard from Liam and Sharon, Dylan shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Maybe he needs a refresher course in getting his ass kicked,” Rod grumbled.

“Stay away from him,” Dylan warned.

“I won't touch him, but that doesn't mean I'm not tempted.”

“What
I
find amusing is the part of the story where India marched over to the police station to stand up for you.”

“Why's that amusing?” Rod asked.

“It shows that she's defensive of you.”

“She knows I didn't have a weapon.”

“How?”

“Because...I'd never cheat in a fight.”

“She came on the scene after the fight was over. The only thing she
knows
is that she likes you. That's all she
could
know. But since you seem to like her, too, I'm happy with her devotion. Maybe she'd be a great fit for you.”

Rod studied his big brother for several seconds. Then he said, “Even if her ex-boyfriend murdered her husband and is still causing problems?”

The smile disappeared from Dylan's face. “You're not serious...”

“'Fraid so. Man named Sebastian Young shot and killed her husband nearly a year ago.”

“Damn! That's rough.”

“It gets worse. His trial ended in a hung jury and the DA's chosen not to retry him. They set him free sometime last week.”

Dylan whistled. “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“I feel bad for her. Why'd Sebastian kill her husband?”

“Because he's obsessed with her.”

Dylan sat on the edge of the desk. “You said that in the present tense.”

“As far as I can tell, it's still true. He called her yesterday, when she was with me.”

Concern replaced the shock and interest on Dylan's face. “Then I take back what I said earlier. I
don't
think she'd be a good fit for you.”

“Funny,” Rod said.

“I mean it,” Dylan insisted. “Don't get involved.”

“
Someone's
got to help her,” Rod argued.

“That someone doesn't have to be
you
.”

“The police aren't doing anything!”

“I don't mean to sound like a prick,” Dylan said. “I don't want to see her or anyone else get hurt. But you hardly know this woman. She's lived next door for what...two weeks? And you've got your own problems to deal with. This Liam thing might not go away as easily as we hope.”

“This Liam thing is minor compared to what she's going through. She has a child, Dyl. I can't leave her and her little girl at the mercy of a killer. The guy has no remorse.” Rod showed Dylan several of the links he'd pulled up while searching for any information he could find on the location of Charlie's parents.

“See what I mean?” Rod said when Dylan finished reading the attached articles.

“How do you know she isn't playing you?” his brother asked. “How do you know she didn't kill her husband and try to blame it on her ex?”

“Would he try to contact her again if that was the case?”

“If she lied about him, he could be out for revenge.”

“That's not what's happening.”

“You can't say for sure,” Dylan said. “She
could've
tried to frame him, and now she doesn't know how to deal with having him out of jail.”

“You're saying she's hoping I'll fight her battles for her? That she's using me?”

“I'm saying it's
possible
. She saw that you could fight. But even if she isn't—even if things are exactly as she says—you could risk your life and still not end up with her. She was married to a heart surgeon. That's a completely different lifestyle than what she'd have with you. We don't get a lot of attention or accolades for fixing cars, Rod. Neither do we make millions or get invited to swanky parties. We live in a small town, drive trucks because that's what's practical here, and we get physical and dirty every day.”

Rod felt his muscles tense. Dylan had struck a nerve. “You don't think I can make her happy.”

“That isn't it at all. I'm not sure she'll give you the chance.”

“Either way, she didn't kill her husband or have him killed. She's lost most of her friends and she doesn't have a family of her own to stick up for her. She doesn't have
anyone
.
I
want to be there for her even if she and I don't end up together. This isn't ‘I'll help you if you'll marry me.' I've never been successful at maintaining a lasting relationship. I'll probably be single for the rest of my life. So whether we work out as a couple is...something else.”

“I'm just saying—”

“I
know
what you're saying. It could be dangerous and it's not in my best interests. But I won't be the guy who only looks out for himself. I can't imagine that's the kind of man
you'd
want me to be.”

Dylan sank down in a chair. “Of course it's not. I'd rather not see you hurt, that's all.”

“Someone has to step up.”

“Are you sure it has to be you?”

“Didn't you hear anything I just told you?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

“This doesn't have to spill over onto you.”

“If it affects you, it affects me.”

“And if you were me, you'd do the same thing.”

Nothing.

“Am I right?” Rod asked. “Think of Cheyenne.”

After a protracted silence, Rod tried a hopeful grin and his brother reluctantly grinned back at him. “Aw, shit,” he said. “Okay. You got me. So...what'd she say to him when he called?”

“Nothing,” Rod replied. “She went white as a sheet and dropped the phone. Then she left town almost immediately. And now she's not responding to my calls or texts.”