Abby listened, loving the deep, smooth sound of his voice and the way his body took up space. She could imagine lying beside him, eyes closed, just listening to him talk.
“I started out with small repairs and learned as I went. Didn’t matter if we went wheels up. If I left the country, I’d just leave the house and pick it up when I got back.
“I enjoyed it—the work and the transformation. I sold that one, made a profit, and looked for a new project. There are times I’m homeless, like this week. I don’t require much, but I do need a working bathroom.” He smiled and bit into another cookie.
She leaned a hip against the counter and sipped her milk, taking in everything he’d said. Soaking up the details that made his life. “So, you’re on leave now?”
“Yes, and I owed Rob for helping me out with my last house, so when he asked for a ride…” He shrugged his shoulders, like what could he do.
“Do you wish you’d gone with him? I’m sure he’s getting more than milk and cookies tonight.”
A slow, sexy grin spread across Matt’s face as a painful blush covered hers. “I’m happy with my choice.”
Abby twisted the gold band on her finger. It was either that or tap her fingers wildly on the countertop.
Heat raced up her arms from where his fingers stilled her nervous hands. His thumb slid over the cold metal, his eyes intent on the ring.
She stared also, at the ring that meant nothing and the hand covering hers that meant way too much. “I should take it off.”
“Do you still feel married?”
She shook her head slowly and felt his eyes on her face. “I don’t think I ever felt married.”
He gave her hand a light squeeze and moved off the stool, coming to stand in front of her. Warm calloused palms slid up her bare arms and across her shoulders, making her knees weak. He gently brushed back the hair that hung like a curtain. A million feelings and thoughts swirled until one slipped out. “I slept with a man who didn’t love me.”
With his thumb under her chin, he raised her face to his. “I disagree. No one could help but love you.”
Wrong. He was so wrong, and she wished she hadn’t said it, but the chocolate pools of his eyes drew her in until she was powerless against them. Big hands circled her neck until his thumbs came to rest lightly against her wildly beating pulse.
“I don’t know what you want,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Time,” he said softly. “Just time. I don’t have a good reason, but I have three days left and I want to spend them with you.” His hands left her neck and trailed down her arms until their fingers touched. “That’s soon enough to walk away, don’t you think?”
She had no answer for that.
He let go of her hands and moved to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Lock up behind me.”
The heavy door closed with a click, and instead of a sad, final kind of sound, it almost sounded like something clicking into place.
Chapter 8
Abby tossed and turned in a cold sweat, the sheets kicked to the foot of the bed, leaving her exposed and alone in her dream.
The house was dark but for the dim shadows cast by an angel nightlight in the hall as she inched past. “Mommy?” Her own voice sounded small.
No answer.
She kept going, stepping through the strip of bright light that fell from her mother’s doorway. Since Daddy died, her mommy’s light was on a lot. And Mommy cried.
“Mommy?” She called again a little louder, passing the big empty bed and continuing toward the bathroom. She eased the door open. “Mommy?”
And she was there. Mommy was in the bathtub. One arm hanging over the side, her head leaning against it. Her eyes were open, but Mommy wasn’t moving.
Her little body shook as she moved closer to her mother.
The water was red and more red ran down her mother’s arm, making a puddle of dark on the tile floor. A thick drip hung on the end of her finger.
Mommy was hurt but she wasn’t moving. Why didn’t she get out of the tub? “M-Mommy? I w-want you to get up.”
She needed Daddy. He’d know what to do ’cause she didn’t. But Daddy was at the place they buried people. He couldn’t come home. Not ever.
“I’ll get you something, Mommy.” She turned to the counter, looking for a Band-Aid. She reached for a towel and saw a piece of paper there, Mommy’s special flower paper. And it said her name, “Abby,” in big letters.
A sound made her look over. Mommy was moving, but she wasn’t getting up. She was slipping down. Down and down until she was under the red water, her eyes still open.
Abby jerked awake and took a minute just to breathe before untangling herself from the covers twisted around her feet. Bright streams of sunlight found their way through a gap in the drapes, making a line across the bed. She rubbed her hands over her stomach. It’s okay. They were at the beach and it was just a dream.
Except it wasn’t.
She reached to turn the clock toward her: 8:19. The gold band caught the light and she worked it until it slipped over her knuckle. It wasn’t an unbreakable circle, like she’d wanted to believe. It was a hole and she’d stood alone in it all her life.
A decade of foster homes and false promises had left marks as sure as the victim of a violent crime had scars. They were just as raw, just as ugly. And she hated them. Was sick of them.
I have three days left and I want to spend them with you.