Thicker Than Water (29 page)

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Authors: Brigid Kemmerer

Tags: #Romance, #Mystery

BOOK: Thicker Than Water

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THOMAS

S
tan and I are sitting across the dinner table. We’re not talking, but Stan is never much of a talker.

He let me move back in after JB was arrested.

He also apologized for abandoning me at the police station after what happened with Charlotte. He felt bad about that—I could feel the shame pouring off him. He stood in front of me and offered his hand, then said, “Marie wouldn’t be proud of me, Tom. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You’ll always have a place to stay with me.”

I shook his hand and moved back in.

Like always, I had nowhere else to go.

But, no. There’s no animosity there. Stan is good. He’s kind. He’s not afraid of me. And JB is locked up, so I’m safe.

I could do worse.

Tonight, though, Stan is fidgety. He runs a hand over his head.

“What’s up?” I say.

“I’m having a crisis of conscience,” he says.

I frown. I can sense he’s feeling conflicted, but I don’t have a clue about why. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means I got a check from the life insurance company.” He pauses and looks at me. “From your mom. You know. Surviving spouse.”

I stare at him, not sure where this is going. “Okay.”

“I don’t want the money, Tom. I think it should go to you.”

He’s such a good, honest man. Sometimes I wonder how I could have ever suspected him. “I don’t want to take your money, Stan.”

“It’s not my money.”

“It’s not mine, either. It was hers.” I think about Mom. We never talked much about money, but I know she loved Stan.

He hesitates. “Well, not really. I mean, that’s not how life insurance works. It was the insurance company’s money.”

I look at my food. It doesn’t seem right to take the money from him. He supported me when I had nothing. He’s supporting me now.

But money could help me get back on my feet.

Now I understand his crisis of conscience.

I take a bite of food and look at him sideways. “We could split it,” I offer.

“Done,” he says. He puts out a hand. We shake on it.

With that settled, the unease is gone from the room. I drop back into my chair.

“How much is it, anyway?” I say.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

I choke and need a gulp of water to get my food down.

Stan can still surprise me.

I lie in bed and think of Charlotte. She’s the strongest girl I know. I wish I had a video of the way she knocked my brother on his ass.

I want to call her, so badly, but I’m not ready.

I’m scared of what I can do. I’m scared of what I
did.
I know JB lied to me about why I hurt my mother and Charlotte, but he didn’t lie about all of it.

I must drift to sleep, because I open my eyes, and it’s just after two o’clock in the morning. I lie in the quiet darkness for a long while before I hear the tapping.

It’s my window.

I jerk out of bed. A letter is taped to my windowpane. I stare out into the yard, which is lit by a security lamp, but there’s no one there.

My heart flutters and I think of Charlotte. I pull the letter inside.

It’s not from Charlotte.

If you thought a jail cell would hold me, you were sadly mistaken.

Truce?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHARLOTTE

I
’m on a grocery store mission again, this time for coconut flour. Of course it’s on the top shelf, pushed back, and I can’t reach. I stretch as tall as I can, until I’m practically climbing the shelves, but my fingertips barely graze the packaging.

“As much as I appreciate the view, I feel like I should offer to help you.”

I yip and spin, yanking my shirt down to cover my stomach. Thomas stands behind me, his dark eyes amused. He must not feel the need to hide anymore, because his ball cap is missing.

We haven’t seen each other in over a month, and I thought my feelings for him had finally cooled. I was sure I’d eventually see him around town, and I’d be able to give him a disinterested glance while saying, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Instead, I throw my arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I reconsider my actions a heartbeat later, worried he’s going to jerk away in surprise or shove me away. Just because
my
feelings haven’t cooled doesn’t mean his haven’t.

But he hugs me back. “I’ve missed you, too,” he says quietly.

I revel in it for a moment, but then I draw back and smack him on the shoulder. “Then why haven’t you called?”

He inhales, but then shakes his head. “I should have. It’s been a long few weeks.” He hesitates. “It took me a while to figure out how to deal with everything.”

“And how’s that going?”

A grimace. “It’s . . . going.”

We stand there and study each other for a moment, and I realize that him showing up at the grocery store isn’t the same as him calling. Maybe he didn’t intend to run into me at all.

Throwing my arms around him was probably completely inappropriate. I might not have his gift of reading emotion, but I’m not an idiot.

I take a step back and glance up at the shelf. “I was just getting coconut flour. Mom and I were in the middle of muffins. I should get back.”

He steps closer to me, which makes my breath catch. But then he reaches over my head and grabs one of the packages that had eluded my grasp.

He holds it out. “Just one?”

I nod, dumbly, and take it. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He doesn’t move.

Eventually, one of us has to. I turn away from him, hoping he’ll call me back.

Hoping. Hoping. Hoping.

He doesn’t.

I’m about to put the flour on the conveyer belt at the register when he appears by my side again. “Charlotte.”

I look up at him expectantly.

“Do you know what panko bread crumbs are?” he says. “That’s what Stan sent me to get, but they’re not with the bread, so . . .”

I sigh. “Sure. Come on.”

We find them in silence, and then he follows me back to the register.

I don’t know what to make of this whole interaction. My thoughts are scattered across a spectrum from attraction to irritation.

We both pay, and then we’re out in the sunlight.

He points left. “I’m over there.”

I’m to the right. Of course.

“So,” I say.

“I’ll see you around,” he says.

So that’s that. I start walking.

He follows me.

Halfway across the parking lot, I stop and face him by the shopping cart corral. “Stop. I can’t do this. I’m sure it’s difficult, and I realize I’m being an insensitive bitch, but I can’t read minds, so I don’t know—”

He kisses me.

It’s a good kiss. Movie-worthy. When his hand comes around my back, I actually drop the bag of flour.

When he draws back, I breathe up at him. “You really did miss me.”

He smiles. “Oh, yes.” His eyes spark with wicked amusement. “Want me to show you again?”

I might not survive it. “Then why—?”

“Because I’m afraid of what I can do.” He pauses, losing the smile. “And JB isn’t in custody anymore. I’m afraid of what he can do, even more.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” I pause, putting steel in my voice. “Or him.”

“That makes one of us.” His brows knit together. “You’re not worried about him coming after you?”

“Not at all. I think he’s a coward. Why do you think he made you do his dirty work?”

The way Thomas’s face shifts tells me he’s never considered this. I put a hand against his cheek. “Are you worried he’ll come after
you
?”

He looks away. “A little. He asked for a truce, and he hasn’t bothered me, but I don’t trust him.”

“He asked for a truce?”

Thomas nods and pulls a folded note out of his pocket. I quickly scan the two lines. “When did he leave this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

I knew JB had been released because my brothers were keeping tabs on him, but I didn’t realize he’d reached out to Thomas. “Have you heard from him since then?”

Thomas shakes his head.

“If you do, we’ll deal with him then.”

Thomas smiles. “I know you won’t have any trouble.”

I make a muscle and blow on my biceps. “You can just hide behind me.”

He laughs. “Maybe you can show me some of your moves.”

“Name the place and time, and I’m there.”

He loses the smile. “Tomorrow night?”

My heart stutters, but somehow I manage to speak clearly. “What’s in it for me?”

“Maybe I can show you some of
my
moves.” Then he leans in to kiss me again.

I don’t know if it’s his ability or my own intuition, but this time his kiss fills me with warmth, lighting me from inside, and leaving me with no doubt about how he feels.

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

KENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-9441-8

First electronic edition: January 2016

ISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9442-5
ISBN-10: 0-7582-9442-5