Meant to Be: Southern Heat Series (10 page)

“Persistent how?”

“He kept asking me to eat with him. If I was having a meal with other people, he’d join in. That was annoying, but not concerning. But he showed up in New York a month or so after I got home. Said he was looking for work there and wanted to know if I wanted to get together.”

Mitch kept his face impassive, even as his brain thought of cruel and unusual ways to hurt Doctor Singer. “Did you?”

“I met him for lunch, but I brought Patrick with me. I figured if Doctor Singer thought I was seeing someone, he’d leave me alone. And it worked. At least I thought it did. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Did Patrick know he was a decoy date?”

“Yes. I’ve known Patrick since I was a child. I’m sure I talked about him and Julia when we were in college. They were with me at the fair this weekend.”

Mitch nodded. “If the same guy attacked you and Jenny, we have to look at who has been both in New York and here. I’ll see what I can learn about this Doctor Singer, but what about Patrick? Maybe he didn’t like being a decoy date. Maybe he wanted more. If I remember correctly, he’d once had more.”

Sydney shook her head and waved Mitch’s comment away. “No. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Is he still in town?”

Sydney’s jaw tightened and her eyes flashed with annoyance. “He and Julia left this morning. Long before the attack.”

Mitch nodded but made a mental note to check on Patrick’s whereabouts at the time Jenny was assaulted.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Sydney said, “Patrick is a good man. He’s the one I stayed with after the attack. He took care of me.”

“Where were your parents? And I thought you weren’t hurt badly.”

“They were on safari in Africa. I couldn’t reach them. And my wound wasn’t fatal, but I was hurt and needed help for a short time.”

“So you and he never rekindled your high school romance?” Mitch inwardly kicked himself. It wasn’t a relevant question.

“No.” But there was hesitation in her response.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

She sighed. “I think there have been times he’s been interested in rekindling our romantic relationship.”

“Why don’t you?” Mitch took a sip of milk, hoping she didn’t call him on his prying.

“He’s not y—” She stopped short. “He’s not the type of man I see myself with.”

Mitch watched her as he set down his milk and wiped his mouth with his napkin. A part of him hoped she would finish her first thought. Not in a I’m-glad-you-like-me-so-I-can-hurt-you-the-way-you-hurt-me kind of way, but in a I-wonder-if-this-thing-between-us-is-real kind of way. The thought both terrified and excited him. But since he still didn’t know what to do about it, he ate another bacon tater.

“I’ll need to talk to him.”

Sydney didn’t argue. “He’s at a conference in Washington, D.C.”

“Where is he staying?”

“A Marriott. I think it’s on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

Mitch worked to keep his voice unaffected, professional. “What about Jagger? He’s from New York, and he’s here now. Hasn’t he asked you out yet? He told me he would.”

Sydney’s eyes narrowed. “Why were you talking about me?”

“He wanted me to give him the okay. He seemed to think there was something between us. I assured him there wasn’t.”

She sat back. Anger and hurt flashed in her hazel eyes. “He stopped by yesterday. I reminded him that I couldn’t go out with him because of Julia.”

“I don’t get that.” Mitch pushed the half-eaten plate of grease, bacon, and potato aside. “Jagger and I are friends, and I’m okay with him seeing you.” Mitch hoped Sydney didn’t hear his brain scream, “LIAR!”

“I guess it’s different for women.” Her voice was terse. He could feel her withdrawing from him.

“How’d he take the rejection?”

“He was annoyed, but I think mostly at Julia for getting in the way. Look, it’s Jagger we’re talking about. He’s a make-love-not-war kind of guy. Plus, I never saw him in New York, except with friends or at parties.”

But Mitch put Jagger and Patrick on his list of possible suspects, along with Doctor Singer. Someone had attacked her in New York and followed her to Charlotte Tavern. It wasn’t on the way to anywhere else, so no one would end up there by accident. Which led to his next question.

“Is that why you came here? You’re having some sort of life-after-near-death crisis?”

Her gaze jerked to his. “In a manner of speaking.” She sighed, and shook her head, making him feel pathetic for asking yet again what she was doing there. “I didn’t seek you out to renew a relationship. I know I can’t go back, but I want to live, Mitch. I want my life to matter. And even with all that I’ve done, I can’t seem to go completely forward without a resolution around what happened to us.”

Mitch pursed his lips in frustration with her vague explanation. “It was pretty straight forward, Syd.”

“No, Mitch, it wasn’t.” She surprised him by leaning forward, matching his in-your-face tactic with her own. “We had our lives planned. I was going to be a doctor and you a lawyer. And then you decided you wanted to serve your country, even though it meant risking your life, being away from me, and not knowing where we’d end up. I supported you in that decision.”

“Then why postpone the wedding?”

She opened her mouth, but he interrupted her. “Because your parents didn’t want you marrying me.”

She let out an expletive and sat back. “They had no problem with you specifically.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shook her head then looked him straight in the eye. “Have you ever considered they were right to persuade me to postpone the wedding? We were so young, Mitch. We didn’t know the first thing about the realities of life. Maybe they sped up the inevitable. Maybe we wouldn’t have made it.”

His eyes narrowed. “You believe that?”

She looked down for a moment. “Look at you now. There isn’t a woman in this town between the ages of twenty and thirty-five you haven’t been with. That kind of lifestyle isn’t conducive to a loving marriage.”

“First, that’s not true and second, I’m not married.” Granted, he’d sowed his oats, but his reputation far exceeded reality. Frustration lapped at him that she’d use town gossip against him. “Yes. But what if you got tired of me? The same woman, day after day, week after week, year after year? I know you think your inability to commit to a relationship now is my fault, but be honest, Mitch, you like the excitement, the variety. It’s easy to blame me, and I’m willing to take it. But, in the end, the only one you hurt is you. What’s the saying? Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die?”

Mitch was taken aback at her tirade. He wanted to respond equally, reminding her that he had good reason to accuse her of being the cause of their break up. Had she talked to her parents about his attempts to contact her years ago? But then he reminded himself of her situation. It was wrong to poke at her when she was so raw and vulnerable.

He was about to apologize when she said, “I know you care for Jenny and wish it was me not her, but—”

“Wait. Stop. I don’t wish it was you in Jenny’s place.”

She pursed her lips and glared in response.

Anger flared in him. What kind of man did she think he was? “Syd, I may be hurt and bitter about what happened between us, but I don’t want you hurt or dead.” God. The idea of it soured his stomach. “In fact, I don’t want you dead so much that I’m going to protect you, which means you’re coming home with me tonight.”

S
ydney unlocked
the front door of her apartment. How had she let Mitch talk her into going home with him? He admitted to being angry and bitter, so why not pawn her off on some other poor cop to babysit? Did he want to continue to hassle her? She was getting tired of it and decided she’d call him on it the next time he whined at her about the wrong she’d done him. Clearly, he was too dense to see his own part in their breakup, and she wasn’t going to endure his adolescent complaints anymore.

“I’ll just grab a few things.” She pushed through the door and headed to her bedroom. She grabbed her overnight bag and started throwing clothes in. How many nights would she be there? One? Two? Maybe forever?
Oh, good God, Syd.
He’d been so sweet and comforting while she shared her story. He’d embraced her as she cried, held her hand to bolster her confidence. She knew it was just the cop in him trying to help a victim, but her heart hoped it meant something else. How was it a little part of her still longed for him?

Deciding it could be a couple of days, she tossed in undergarments, a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and two dresses for work from her closet. Finally, she grabbed her running shoes, shorts, and sports tops. No sense in not exercising, especially now her life was in turmoil. Running was the one time she could clear her mind and let life slip away.

When she re-emerged from her bedroom, Mitch was scanning her bookshelves. “Still a big romance fan, eh?”

“Yes.” She waited for his inevitable snark about reading fluff.

Instead, he turned to her. “Ready?”

She scanned her apartment to see if there was anything else she should take. Her gaze stopped on the moonshine. Deciding she needed it, she entered her kitchen and grabbed the bottle by the stem. As she did, her box of unicorn cookies caught her eye. She needed that too. Hoisting her overnight bag more securely over her shoulder, she snatched the box of cookies and headed back to Mitch. “Ready.”

His brows rose at the sight of her. “What are you, eight?” He nodded toward the cookies.

“I like them.” She bit out the words.

“I see you have something to wash them down with.”

“Usually I have milk, but tonight calls for something stronger.”

He took the bottle from her and studied the label. “Moonshine isn’t really moonshine unless it’s made in a hollow by the glow of the moon.”

“I’m new in town. I don’t know the clandestine moonshine spots yet.” She grabbed the bottle back.

He grinned. “I know a guy who knows a guy who sells it from the trunk of his car in the parking lot of the county jail.”

She didn’t believe him, and her face must have shown it.

“No, really. And it’s good. Maybe I’ll hook you up.”

“Isn’t it illegal?”

He nodded.

“But he sells it in the jail parking lot.”

“Yep.” He held his hand up. “Scouts honor. In the south, we like our crazy and our rebels.”

“So I’ve been learning.”

He stepped back, taking his phone from his pocket. Holding it up, he snapped a photo.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Just what she needed. A viral picture of her, a prominent doctor, washing down unicorn cookies with moonshine.

“Proof you’re starting to fit in.” He slipped his phone back in his jacket then reached to take her bag. “Let me carry that. You can keep the precious cargo.”

She smirked, until he turned to leave. Then she smiled. He might be bitter and angry, but he was warming to her. Not that it would lead anywhere. But she was starting to see glimpses of the Mitch she’d fallen in love with in college.

M
itch pulled
into the driveway of his quaint craftsman-style home. They had switched out his work vehicle for his truck after their trip to the diner.

Although night was falling, it was light enough for Sydney to see the gray stucco with crisp white trim and red door. Mitch helped her from his truck, carrying her bag, as he led the way up the steps to a wide porch with potted blooms, plastic chairs, and a swing. Although she’d seen the house on her previous stalking drive-bys, it still surprised her. It wasn’t what she expected for Mitch.

“Your home is lovely.”

“Thanks.” Mitch unlocked the front door. “It used to be my grandparents’ until they moved to Florida.”

Mitch pushed the door open and motioned for her to enter. She walked into a tidy, somewhat sparse living area.

“I bought it from them.” Mitch closed the door. “I got a good deal and seller financing. The guest room is back here.”

She followed him to a small hallway, chastising herself for the twinge of disappointment she felt when he didn’t offer to let her stay in his room, with him. Not that she wanted sex, although, that would be nice. But in his arms, she was safe and secure, and she needed that more than anything.

“The bathroom is to the left, and your room is here.” He switched on a light and carried her bag in, setting it on the bed. “It’s a double, which is better than the two twins that were here when Lexie and I spent one weekend a month here. We loved it. We stayed up late telling each other ghost stories.”

“One weekend a month?” Sydney stepped into the room. Like the living area, it held the basics — a bed, nightstand, and dresser. Sheer white curtains hung over the window. She set her bottle of moonshine and cookies on the dresser.

“My parents never left the honeymoon stage.”

“Ah. They left you here so they could engage in adult activities.”

He nodded. “Lexie and I wonder why we don’t have more siblings. Even today, we’re certain my dad’s lunchtime at home doesn’t involve eating lunch.”

“That’s sweet.” How could he be so anti-commitment with parents who clearly loved each other, even after more than thirty years of marriage?

His phone chirped, ending their conversation just as it was beginning to veer into uncomfortable territory.

“I should check this. It might–It’s Kevin.”

“Yes, of course.” Sydney closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer for good news.

“Kev.” Mitch listened and after a few seconds looked at Sydney.

She searched his eyes, hoping for a sign that it was good news.

“Thank God. I told you she was strong.”

Sydney pressed her hands to her chest as relief flooded her.

“I’ve got some leads. I’ll stop by to see you and Jen tomorrow and let you know what I’ve got. Give Jen a hug from me.” Mitch hung up. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Thank goodness.” Sydney flung herself into Mitch’s arms, relief and happiness filling her. It wasn’t until he stiffened that she realized her error. But before she could pull away, his arms wrapped around her.

She’d wanted to share her joy at the news, but having him hold her while he was still angry with her was a new kind of torture. She wanted to weep. Being in his arms felt warm and safe, like she was where she was supposed to be. But it would never be again.

She extricated herself, with the thought of apologizing for her impulsivity, but decided it would make the moment even more uncomfortable.

As if he understood her awkwardness, he stepped around her to the door. “You can get settled. I’ll put a towel in the bathroom if you want to freshen up.”

She nodded.

“I’ll put these away for you.” He took the cookies and moonshine from the dresser. “When you’re ready, I’ll have them for you.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He walked out, leaving the door ajar. She sat on the edge of the bed, willing her scattered thoughts and emotions to settle. Joy, relief, despair, and grief whirled.

Jenny was going to be fine. That was the most important thing.

But the sadness of her situation with Mitch couldn’t be brushed aside. If things had gone differently, this might have been her home with him. She glanced around the room, running her hand over the soft cover of the bed, imagining their child, with bronze hair and green eyes, playing and sleeping there. Maybe they’d be sending their kids to his parents’ house one weekend a month so they could indulge in adult activities.

For years, she’d held onto a kernel of hope that the dream they’d planned would still come true. But now she knew: Mitch would protect her — he might even be friendly to her — but the life they’d dreamed of together would never come to pass.

Pushing thoughts of love, marriage, and family away, she changed into her yoga pants and a T-shirt. It wasn’t sexy, but it was comfortable. She made her way to the bathroom to freshen up, grimacing at the dark circles under her eyes, made more prominent by her pale skin. She splashed cold water on her face, pinching her cheeks to get color in them, and redid her ponytail to recapture stray hairs that had escaped. Deciding she looked as good as she could manage, she left the bathroom and headed to the main living area.

Mitch made noise in the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit and I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“We just ate.” She was about to sit on the couch, when she was distracted by the stone fireplace. It looked like it was lifted from a fairy tale cottage, with mismatched stones that fit together like puzzle pieces. Several picture frames sat on the mantel. One showed Lexie and Mitch as teenagers. In another, Mitch along with a few other people she didn’t know flanked Lexie and Drake, smiling brightly.

“They threw their wedding together in one day.”

Sydney turned to Mitch.

He held up a plate. “Mema’s macs and cheese.”

“You just ate.”

“But you didn’t. If you’re going to drown your sorrows in moonshine, you should eat first. I have a table or you can eat here. It’s one rule I changed when I bought the place. You can eat anywhere you want.”

Sydney
was
hungry, even though she wasn’t sure she could swallow food around the lump sitting in her chest. She smiled and took the plate. “I’ll eat here then.” She sat on the couch. “Why did they get married so fast?”

“Oliver, Drake’s grandfather, didn’t have much longer to live, and since he’d brought them together, it was important to them that he be there. They had another, more formal wedding a few months later.”

“I don’t know the Carmichaels well, but the Oliver you talk about isn’t the one I remember.”

“That’s what Drake said. But I guess dying changes people.” Mitch’s voice fell soft and the light in his eyes dimmed.

Sydney wanted to ask him why. Had he been close to Oliver too? Or was he thinking of someone else? She didn’t want to ruin their tenuous truce by pushing him, so she didn’t respond.

He shook his head as if trying to rid an unwanted thought. “I’ll get your cookies and moonshine. You eat.”

Mitch left the room. She wished they could talk the way they had in college. There hadn’t been anything she couldn’t say to him. She’d never had anyone in her life she trusted so fully, even Julia and Patrick didn’t hear her deepest, darkest secrets, desires, and fears.

Sighing, she scooped up macaroni and cheese. “Oh, wow.”

“Great, huh?” Mitch returned, carrying a bowl filled with her unicorn cookies and the bottle of moonshine.

Sydney couldn’t form the words to adequately explain how delicious the golden creamy noodles tasted.

“When my grandparents visit, they stay in your room. I always offer them their old room, but they insist it’s my house now. It’s still her kitchen, though, and she never leaves without fixin’ some good grub. I’ve got a freezer full to carry me until she returns again.”

It was definitely different from her experience with her grandparents. Sydney’s took her traveling and for summers in the Hamptons. But they had a staff that cooked the meals. If she’d had a sibling, they wouldn’t have shared a room, as her grandparents’ home had dozens. Not that her family lacked tradition, or was cold and aloof, but they weren’t… homey.

“Do you have the recipe?”

Mitch sat in a recliner opposite the couch, with a bottle of beer. “Of course. I make it sometimes, but it’s never as good. I don’t have Mema’s macs mojo.”

“Mema?”

“That’s what we call our grandparents. Mema and Paw-paw. How about you?”

“It’s what you’d expect. Grandmother and Grandfather.” She ate another bite of Mema’s macs and cheese. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“It wasn’t easy.” He winked, giving her another glimpse of the jovial Mitch she used to know. “But you looked like you needed it. Macs and cheese has medicinal powers, you know.”

“So I’m discovering.” She ate, focusing on enjoying the comfort food, but thoughts of Jenny kept interrupting. Thoughts that led to guilt. “Do you think I should go home?”

“No. That’s why you’re here.” Mitch’s body looked at ease in the recliner, but his green eyes were sharp as they studied her.

“I meant to New York.” She set her bowl on the table, the remorse eating away at her hunger. “I brought danger here. I didn’t know I was in danger, but clearly the guy who attacked me followed me here. And now Jenny is hurt—”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Physically, but what about emotionally?”

Mitch didn’t respond, except with a nod. He understood. Of course he would. He’d been in a war. He knew how being attacked and living in fear could change you.