Unforgiven (16 page)

She just stared for a moment. Sweat trickled down the side of her neck, and his eyes flashed to the trail it ran. He reached out, brushing the wetness from her collar bone. Then his eyes shifted lower to her still-hard nipples. “Impressive your nipples can get so hard in this scorching heat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were aroused. Is that it, Bailey? Are you thinking about fucking me?” He waited calmly for a reaction, and her heart raced. He enjoyed her discomfort. “Don’t worry. I’m not hiring you to be a sex slave. Just to be my housekeeper. I can get sex on my own.” Then as he brushed past her, he glanced down at the tabletop again to the newspaper. “From the looks of it, you’re in no position to turn me down. Can you come to my place tomorrow morning? Six fifteen? My shift starts at seven.”

“Yes.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

He turned from her again and headed for her front door. He said nothing as he left, and she didn’t have the nerve to say anything, either. She sank down in her chair at the table again, pushing the newspaper away. She stared at the tabletop and zoned out. She was going to work for the man. She was going to be answerable to him on a daily basis, wrapped up in his life to some extent. It was terrifying to consider . . . it was also intriguing. She hadn’t even figured out why he’d asked her to stay in Savoy yet, and now she had a new riddle. Why the hell would this man want her working for him?

Her stereo suddenly came on, belting out the local radio station she’d been listening to before the power had gone out. Nearly every light in her house came on too, and she shrieked in surprise as her house came alive again. She was already on her feet. She’d shot up out of her chair in shock, and then she started looking around, turning lights off, and finally silencing the stereo. When she looked outside, he was there, leaning up against the side of his car. She pulled the door open, stepping out onto the porch.

“Darren—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He climbed in his car without letting her finish, and then he was gone.

Two Years Before

Dear Bailey,

I’m sure you’re not expecting to hear from me, and I hope my letter won’t upset you in any way. I don’t intend for it to, I assure you. Brent just told me about your father’s health problems, and I wanted to let you know how very sorry I am to hear about it. It can’t be easy for you to cope under the circumstances, and I wanted you to know I’m thinking about you and your family.

I hesitated writing this letter, but I think I’d have regretted it far more if I didn’t than I will for deciding to reach out to you after four years. You were a daughter to me, and I don’t care if that phrase is overused, it’s true. You and Jess made me so very happy, and seeing the two of you together always left a smile on my face. You were absurd, you were funny, you were ridiculous, and just plain fun, and I miss you both.

My daughter loved you, and you made her a better person. There’s no doubt of that in my mind, and I always saw that in you. Being angry at you isn’t easy, holding you so responsible for our loss isn’t either. Everyone always thinks a person doesn’t forgive another because they don’t want to. As though forgiveness is something I could want to withhold from you for my own benefit. But I need you to understand that is simply not true. I’ve always wanted to forgive you, because my daughter would have wanted that and because being angry hurts.

Jess would never have blamed you for that night. Never. And I know it could have been her behind that wheel just as easily as it ended up being you. I could have a daughter in jail, and your parents could be enduring the loss of their only child. The only thing separating us from that existence rather than the one we find ourselves in is one small decision. I make wrong decisions every day, and I’m an adult who’s had years to figure out just how little slack life can cut you at times. You were little more than a child then, and were the situation reversed, I would want my daughter to be forgiven as well.

So, there you have it. You have and always will have my forgiveness. But with that comes a request—a very important one on behalf of someone who can’t make the request herself, but would absolutely want me to make it for her. You need to forgive yourself, and you need to move on. You need to have a life, and not just any life, a good life, a happy one. Jess wouldn’t want it any other way, and if she could be here fighting this battle for you, I have no doubt she would. She always fought for you. She always stood up for you and protected you fiercely. It was her best and most admirable quality, and you brought that out in her like no other.

I’ll be praying for your family and your father’s health. I’ve found that letting go of the past and all the things that could have been has been a process that I have to work at every day. For you and myself as well, I suppose, I promise to continue that process. I’m sure we’ll see one another someday, likely many years from now, and I hope that when we do, I’ll be able to greet you in the way Jess would have wanted—with open arms and an open heart. Until then, take care of yourself and be kind to yourself.

Always,

Jillian Cory

Now

Bailey was standing on his porch wearing a pair of mid-thigh, white deck shorts, a navy-and-white-striped tank top, and a Kelly green cardigan. Her shoes were white deck shoes, and he took his time looking at every inch of her. He didn’t care that she was nervous, and given the fidgeting movements of her hands as she stood in front of him, she was most definitely that, if not downright frightened. He was a bit terrified too. What the hell did he know about employing someone? For that matter, what the hell did he know about employing someone he professed to hate with a vengeance for killing his sister—they didn’t make instruction manuals for such things.

Macy broke the tension when she bounded out the door, practically pummeling Bailey’s small frame to the ground. Well, Macy obviously didn’t share his attitude toward the woman. She scratched Macy’s ears as Macy’s entire body wiggled and wagged. He just watched. It was odd having her in his home the one other time he’d brought her here; now he was going to have to cope with it nearly every day. It was just as odd seeing his dog, who would literally climb inside his body to be closer to Darren if she could, making nice with Bailey. Hell, if a dog could like her, couldn’t he?

“Hi.” She righted her posture and widened her stance as Macy continued to push into her thighs, threatening to push her over.

“Come in.” He knew saying
hi
to her in response would be more appropriate, but it was amazing the simple words he couldn’t seem to utter to her. He turned, and she followed him into his entryway. He picked up the spare key from the entryway table and handed it to her. “You’ll need this.” And then he continued toward the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and he reached into the cupboard for another coffee cup for her as well, letting her pour her own.

He spent the next fifteen minutes showing her where the cleaning supplies were, how to start the washer, dryer, and dishwasher, and where Macy’s food and toys were. His house was immaculate thanks to the cleaning lady he’d just fired the day before so he had an excuse to employ Bailey. There was actually little for her to do at the moment other than entertain his dog, which was thankfully a full-time job in and of itself.

Her eyes took in everything around her, and he studied her as she studied his life. She blushed when she looked at his bed. He knew her blush, and she couldn’t ever hide it. He also knew she hated just how transparent it made her to people. When she caught him looking at her, the blush darkened to an incredible crimson. He was caught with a smirk on his face, and when she noticed the subtle lift of his lips, she looked away shyly. A sudden rush of arousal passed like a wave through his body, and rather than fight it in front of her, he turned and left the room.

“This is a twelve-hour shift for me, so I won’t be home until seven this evening. You don’t have to stay that long if you don’t want. As long as you’re here until midafternoon, Macy will be fine. Same goes for the mornings. If you’re not able to be here when I leave, it’ll be fine. Midmorning is good enough. I’ll leave a note if there’s anything in particular that needs to be done, otherwise, just use your best judgment.” He paused midstride at the irony of that statement, but then regaining himself, he continued back to the kitchen.

He sat at the large kitchen island to finish his coffee, and he checked his emails. She sat across from him, and he fought to focus on reading and not on her. “Darren.” Apparently concentrating just wasn’t going to happen. He looked up. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

He closed the laptop and stood from the counter, emptying his coffee cup in the sink before he turned back to her. “Make sure you keep track of your hours. I work anywhere from four to six days a week, depending on scheduling. I’ll post my work schedule on the refrigerator tonight, so you know when you’re expected, and I’ll pay you once a week. Like I said, you don’t have to be here first thing in the morning or when I get home at night. As long as Macy is taken care of and the house is clean, I don’t much need anything else.” He left without another word to her.

He might have blown her off that morning, and pretty much every other time he’d seen her lately, but it didn’t mean he could stop thinking about her. That was the worst part about it. He literally couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about her in some respect or another. Sometimes the image of her face floated through his mind. Other times memories from years ago popped up. It was always distracting . . . and it was always intense too.

When he left the hospital, he found himself driving faster than he ought to. He hadn’t told her she had to leave before he got home, only that she could if she wanted. He had no idea if she’d still be there or not when he arrived home, and for some damn reason, he wanted her to be. She was staying, and he didn’t have to fear her running away anymore, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He wanted her to be there, and when he pulled into his driveway and her charming little fat tire bike with its cute woven basket was gone, he was disappointed.

She didn’t have a cell phone that he knew of, but it didn’t take him long to find the phone number of her cottage thanks to information. “How was Macy?” Again he’d failed to give her any sort of proper greeting. He was using those little refusals to punish her, and he knew she wasn’t missing his little passive-aggressiveness. He also hated that he was acting like such a dick.

“She was good. She’s a happy dog.”

“Yes, she is.” He said nothing for a moment, and she waited for him to continue. “Uh . . . do you still run?”

“Yeah, not as much as I used to. I’m out of practice, but I try to do a couple miles a few days a week.”

“There are a lot of good running trails through the woods and around the lake. I’ll be home earlier tomorrow night. If you bring your running shoes, I’ll show you how to get to the trails. Macy enjoys it, and she can go forever.”

She was silent for a moment, and his heart pounded in his chest. “Yeah. That sounds great. Thanks, Darren.”

“Yeah.” He apparently no longer said
you’re welcome
either.

“Good night, Darren.” She didn’t wait for him to respond. She knew better at this point.

Two Years Before

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve endured, Darren. I am more sorry than you will likely ever know. So, please take no offense now when I say that you will leave my daughter in peace when she comes home.” Daniel’s complexion was pale and sallow, and his voice was weak. His words, however, were strong and full of conviction, regardless of how frail his body appeared. “I will not be here to protect her, and I will not go to my grave knowing she is to be tormented by someone she cares so much for. I am a parent just like your own, who loves his daughter just as yours do. She has suffered enough, and you will not make that worse for her. If you hate her, hate her—just do it from a distance. You let her live her life. I assure you, she will suffer plenty at her own hands.” Daniel’s hands trembled as he rested them on his stomach, and his whole body seemed to relax painfully back into the hospital bed once he was finished speaking.

Darren was now sitting outside Bailey’s father’s hospital room. The words were still echoing through his mind, though it had been nearly an hour since they’d been spoken to him. Daniel had asked for him. He’d been admitted, and there was little hope he’d be going home this time. Darren was still shocked when his nurse paged him to the room.

He was plenty nice to Darren, surprisingly nice considering, and when Bailey’s mom had returned from grabbing a bite in the cafeteria, she was kind as well. It was awkward as hell, and when Daniel had lectured him about just how he expected Darren to treat his daughter when she finally got out of prison, Darren had wanted to run. He knew coming home and taking the attending position here would come with memories, ghosts in the closet, and even the occasional run-in with people he might not be ready to see, but this was . . . well, shocking.