Ben eased the cruiser along the steep dirt drive, keeping an eye on the trees overhead. They whipped back and forth, sending pine needles raining down on his roof.
Leaning forward, he looked up at the big house on the cliff. Its characteristically warm, light-filled windows were completely dark now, its hulk on the mountainside looking still and ominous. It had been that way for the last half an hour.
If you were in the right spot in town, like the gas station on the corner, or the library parking lot, you could see the house in the distance. Out of habit tonight, or maybe because he’d been thinking about Kyla nonstop, he’d glanced up at it when he’d gotten the call to assist for the downed tree. The darkened windows meant they’d lost power. And no power, even in this day and age, could be dangerous if the circumstances were right.
He eased over a pothole now, then stepped on the gas, feeling the car’s tires spin underneath him. He’d been out with a stranded motorist earlier when he’d heard the intruder call over the radio. It had been all he could do to stay with the poor lady while one of his officers checked it out. Thank God it had turned out to be nothing, but Frances and Kyla were probably shaken. And now they were sitting up there in the dark, not answering their damn phone, which was going straight to voice mail. Which meant he wasn’t going to relax until he’d checked on them himself.
He turned the cruiser sharply to the left and through the trees, and the house came into view again. From this close he could see the softest light burning in the windows—candles, the flames of which danced in the darkness.
Feeling the knot in his stomach ease a little, he pulled up and cut the engine. Then cued the mic on his shoulder.
“Forty-seven twenty-one.”
“Forty-seven twenty-one,” the dispatcher replied. “Go ahead.”
“Out at eight sixty-three Old Mariner’s Lane. Follow-up.”
“Eight sixty-three Old Mariner’s Lane. Copy that.”
Ben opened the door into the wind and rain, hunching his shoulders against the onslaught. Then jogged toward the front door with his jacket collar pulled high around his neck.
He gave three firm knocks and waited. After a second, the door opened with a creak.
“Ben?” Kyla stood there holding a candle, shadows flickering across her pretty face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just saw from down the road that you’d lost power up here. And I heard the call earlier. I wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay.”
She smiled, her eyes looking darker than he’d ever seen them. Tonight, they were slate gray. Her skin was pale in the candlelight. Delicate, almost translucent. She stepped aside.
“Can you come in for a minute? It’s miserable out there.”
Honestly, the pull of her gaze was just as tempting as the chance to get warm and dry for a few minutes. The word miserable didn’t do this night justice.
Nodding, he stepped past her and into the foyer. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, and the smell of woodsmoke filled his senses. The logs shifted, sending sparks rising like stars into the chimney. There were a few candles burning in the living room, and their warm yellow light danced over the walls.
Ben felt something brush against his legs, and looked down to see Jacques wind himself around his boots. The cat gazed up at him and meowed. He looked a little rough around the edges.
“Is he wet?”
Kyla set her candle on a shelf by the front door. “He’s wet and then some. You wouldn’t believe the night we’ve had so far.”
Ben turned to her, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Tell me about it.” He looked around. “Where’s Frances?”
“She went to bed. She was exhausted. Physically, emotionally...”
He frowned, watching her pull her oversize cardigan around her shoulders. It was obvious that her hair had been soaked recently. It was wild, hanging next to her face in damp waves.
She smiled up at him. “Honestly, I’m just happy to see you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Her eyes filled with sudden tears.
“Hey, hey,” he said, reaching out to pull her close. “What’s wrong?”
His uniform jacket was beaded with rain, but she didn’t seem to care. It was like she’d been waiting for the contact, and relaxed into him with a soft sigh.
“Everything,” she said against his chest. “Everything’s wrong.”
He cupped the back of her head in his hand, and bent to kiss the crown, smelling her shampoo, the scent of rain. Desire stirred in his gut. Would there ever come a time when he wouldn’t want to watch over her anymore? It seemed like with every passing day, that need only grew more pronounced inside him.
Sniffing, she pulled away and raised her chin. Just a little, but that toughness he’d come to know so well was evident in the tilt of her head. He knew Kyla was used to taking care of herself. But it was also clear that she’d wanted his arms around her just then. She was a walking contradiction. Someone whose pain would probably always dictate how close she let people get. It would take a strong man to gain her trust, a man whose own pain wouldn’t get in the way.
At that, he licked his lips. His mouth felt dry as he stood there looking down at her. Her sweater had slipped off one milky shoulder, and he wanted to lean down and put his mouth there. To taste her, and feel her skin under his lips.
She was so beautiful, but he was acutely aware that her beauty wasn’t all that was drawing him to her at that moment. It was the way she was watching him. There was almost a challenge in her eyes, whether she realized it or not. Are you strong enough?
“What is it, Kyla?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
Clasping her hands in front of her belly, she took a deep breath. “It’s Hunter.”
“Oh shit.”
“No, it’s not what you think.”
He waited, skeptical.
She looked toward the windows as a gust of wind rattled the house. Then shifted her gaze back to his.
“He was stocking the shelves today,” she began quietly. “He’d just gotten done telling us about a fight he had with his dad a few nights ago. I guess he’s not happy Hunter’s working at Coastal Sweets, even though he’d originally said it was okay.”
Ben’s chest tightened. He’d been worried about this.
“Frances and I just listened,” she went on. “I was afraid if I said too much, he’d clam up, and it was obvious he needed to talk about it. Who knows if he’s got friends he can confide in? He seems close with his mom, and it seems like she’s doing the best she can, but she’s also walking on eggshells around this guy.”
Ben knew that was putting it mildly. She was probably afraid of him. Maybe even wanted to leave him, but was scared to. It was possible. Anything was possible.
“So,” she said, “he told us this story about how his dad came into his room and started yelling and throwing things. But that he eventually calmed down, and everything was okay.” She shook her head. “It felt like he was glossing it over, though. You can tell when people do that. They’re protecting something. Or someone.”
His heartbeat slowed, as he remembered Kyla as a little kid. Remembered when she’d come over to his parents’ house for those Sunday dinners, she’d do the same thing. She wasn’t that hungry, she’d say. She wasn’t that tired. Her jeans fit, she just needed a belt. And when she’d talk about her mother, her posture would change—it would stiffen like she was getting ready for a fight. She’d never say a word against her mom. Not once in all the time he’d known her. He’d had to look past those walls to see the truth.
She chewed her cheek for a minute. “We knew he was hiding something,” she finally said. “And I’m not surprised, because he loves working at the shop. He doesn’t want anything ruining this for him. It was never Hunter we had to worry about trusting. It was his dad. You told us that.”
He nodded.
“I was just expecting him to steal something, you know? I never expected to like him so much. And I never thought...”
At that, she stopped, her voice growing strained.
“You never thought what?”
She gazed up at him, and there was something in her expression that unsettled him.
“He was wearing this big sweatshirt,” Kyla said slowly. “I thought it was a little strange, because the shop was kind of stuffy tonight. I was only in a tank top, and Frances was in short sleeves. We’d turned the heat up because of the wind, and then it got kind of warm. But he kept his sweatshirt on the entire time. And then he locked up for us, and handed the keys back, and his sleeve slid back.”
She swallowed visibly.
“What?” he asked. Wanting to know, but not wanting to know. He had too much experience with this kind of thing to have anything but a sick feeling at the look on her face.
“Bruises,” she finished. “Black-and-blue, like a bracelet around his wrist.”
“Dammit to hell,” he muttered.
“As soon as he realized that we saw, he pulled his sleeve down and said something about falling on his skateboard.” She frowned. “He got so upset. We asked him if that’s what really happened, and he started crying. I just hugged him. That was all I could do. I just held him until he calmed down.”
Ben felt a rush of fury at Gabe Mohatt. It was true they didn’t know if he’d given Hunter those bruises or not, but it was a puzzle that wasn’t hard to put together if you were paying attention.
“His dad sounds volatile,” she said, eyeing him closely, “but do you think he did this?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Yes, of course. But how can we say something without Hunter’s blessing first? He could be taken away. And he’s close with this mother...or seems to be.”
Ben stared at her, but bit his tongue. What he wanted to say was how couldn’t they say something? It was the same question that had haunted him as a teenager. And the answer was, he’d had to say something because Kyla’s safety had been on the line.
It was possible that just because Hunter was older than she’d been, or that he had one parent who actually seemed to care about him, she wasn’t ready to go there. Or maybe it was simply that she’d lived through being taken away herself, and knew how it felt.
She shook her head. “It’s too early.”
“Kyla, he could be in real trouble, and we’re mandatory reporters. The choice isn’t ours to make.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned away from him. “I know that. I know it’s our responsibility to say something, and I will. Of course I will. I just want more time. To make sure. To prepare him.”
“Kyla...”
She turned back, her eyes flashing in the candlelight. “He needs time, Ben. Nobody gave me any time.”
He knew what she meant by that. He never gave her any time. He was so sorry she’d been hurt, but reporting her situation was something he couldn’t be sorry for. He’d done what he thought was right at the time, and he’d do it again.
“No,” he said, his voice sharp. “But it was because you were taken away when you were that you didn’t have to see your mom—”
She glared up at him, and it was the first time since the day Hunter took the tip jar that she’d looked at him like this. With such naked hostility.
“That I didn’t have to see my mom, what?” she said coolly.
“Hey. We’re both on the same side, here.”
“No,” she said, ignoring that. “I didn’t have to see my mom die. You’re right. But maybe it was because I was taken away that she died. Maybe it was because I wasn’t there to help her.”
“And you blame me for that.”
She continued staring up at him, but didn’t say a word. Just looked like she wanted to push him in front of a bus.
“It’s okay,” he said, anger starting to warm his blood. Or maybe it was a long-buried defensiveness that was only now coming to the surface. “Just be honest for once. You still blame me. You’ve always blamed me. Let’s just have this out now before things go any further.”
“Before what goes any further? You and me?”
She said this with such disdain that it was like an ice pick to his heart. He had to work not to show how much it stung.
“Yes,” he said evenly.
“I’m done talking about this.”
“We haven’t even started talking about it.”
She narrowed her gorgeous eyes at him. “I want you to leave.”
“Why? Because I care enough not to let it go? Let me guess—everyone else in your life just bends to your will, am I right? And if they don’t...” He snapped his fingers. “You just cut them right the hell out.”
“You know nothing about me, Ben.”
“I know enough. I know this thing with Hunter scares you, because you might have to face what happened to you as a kid. And you’re not used to facing things. You’re used to running away from them.”
She yanked open the front door and the wind immediately gusted through the entryway.
“Leave,” she said.
“I’ll go,” he countered. “But not until you hear me out.” He reached out and closed the door, making sure to do it quietly, so he wouldn’t wake Frances.
She gaped up at him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Ben Martinez,” she said. “How dare you stand here and lecture me?”
“And how dare you hold something over my head that I did when I was seventeen years old? Something I did to save your life?”
“I was just fine before you came along.” But she said this with an unmistakable tremble in her voice. Because it was a lie.
She was so used to acting so damn tough all the time. So damn independent. He wondered what would happen if she just gave in for once in her life, and let someone love her? Really love her? But that would require him to drop his idiotic baggage too, and he wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Maybe he’d never know how to do it. The thought was enough to make him want to fall to his knees in front of her. To wrap his arms around her waist and beg her to teach him.
Instead, he took a step toward her, and she pursed her lips.
“Why in God’s name won’t you just let people help you?” he said.
“I don’t need your help.”
“But you did. You needed someone to step in back then, Kyla. And you know what? Every day, I’m thankful I made that decision, and you know why? Because you’re here right now. You’re here looking at me like you hate me, and that’s okay, because you made it out. Your mom didn’t, and I’m sorry. I really am. But she didn’t take you with her, and I’m always going to be thankful for that. No matter how much you hate me for it.”
She let out a ragged breath then, choking on a sob. “I hate her,” she said. She put her face in her hands. “I hate her for leaving me. I—”
He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he reached out and pulled her close. She sobbed in earnest against his chest, great heaving sobs that shook her entire body.
“Shhh,” he whispered against her ear. “It’s okay, baby. You’re going to get through this—I promise you.”
She flinched at that. And then he felt her stiffen against him, as if her muscles were rebelling at the words.
Slowly, she put her hands on his chest and pushed away. She took a shaky breath and gazed up at him. Her cheeks were wet, but the tears had stopped.
“How am I going to get through it, Ben?” she asked quietly. “Because I love her and I hate her at the same time. I don’t know how to do both, and it’s killing me inside.”
He looked down at her, wishing with all his heart that he could fix this. But that had always been his problem. He always thought he could fix everything for everyone—Kyla, Gracie, Sam... Sometimes people were just going to hurt. And sometimes they were just going to leave, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, but watch them go.
“I want to be at peace with what happened to me,” she continued. “Because, you’re right. My life turned out very differently than it would have. But it’s the what-ifs that bother me so much. And being with you...”
She faltered on that last word. You. Like it meant something, or he meant something, that she wasn’t comfortable with. He could relate. He’d been struggling with what Kyla meant to him for weeks now.
“If you care about me,” she said, looking over at the fire as the rain pelted the windows outside. “You’ll leave now.”
His heartbeat slowed in his chest. Despite all their time together, and despite how he felt like she was getting close, she really wasn’t ready to forgive him. She might not ever be ready. And he wasn’t going to trust her with anything other than a few heated kisses if she wouldn’t let down her walls. And that was reality.
He stepped around her without another word. If this was what she wanted, he’d give it to her. Because he had nothing else to give.
Opening the door into the wind and rain, he hunched his shoulders and made his way to his cruiser in the darkness.
And heard the door click shut behind him.
Kyla watched the lights from Ben’s car grow faint through the trees, and then disappear altogether.
Slowly, she took her hand away from the curtain and let it fall back into place. She felt numb, like her hand wasn’t even attached to her arm. She wiggled her fingers to make sure she wasn’t having some kind of stroke, because she’d never felt so detached in her life.
She made her way to the couch and sat down, resting her elbows on her knees. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand what was happening to her emotionally—she did. Frances had made sure she had counseling as a child, and she’d continued it periodically as an adult. The numbness was a defense mechanism. It was a way to get by. Like Ben had said, only this obviously wasn’t what he’d meant. He’d meant she would eventually heal. She felt like she’d just get so used to being numb that she’d eventually feel nothing at all.
She looked over at the fire. It was dying down now, its embers glowing a quiet orange. Pretty soon this storm would be over. But it always seemed like there was another one waiting in the wings. That was Christmas Bay for you.
Leaning back, she picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. She hadn’t been prepared for how letting Ben back into her life would turn it upside down. She’d been even less prepared for Hunter, who, through no fault of his own, had dredged up her own screwed-up childhood.
The thought of reporting his bruises made her physically sick. She knew how this would play out. She knew how painful it would be for him. So painful that he might never get over it. But she also knew the reality...
She chewed the inside of her cheek methodically. No matter how hard it would be, she was going to have to push her own trauma aside, and make that phone call. She didn’t need time, and she didn’t need proof. The law was very clear on this, and it was clear to protect children. Suspicion was enough. Ben was absolutely right—she needed to do it right away. Maybe nothing would come of it. Maybe Hunter really did fall, but someone needed to make sure. He might never forgive Kyla, but at least he’d be safe, and that was the kindest thing she could do for him.
At that particular thought, there was a tickle in her subconscious. And then it was more than a tickle. It was a slowly forming fact that made her shift on the couch. Reporting Hunter’s bruises would be the kindest thing she could do for him. Just like Ben reporting her neglect had been the kindest thing he could do for her.
She stared at the fireplace, losing herself in that notion. A notion that for most people would probably be the most obvious thing in the world. But that was the thing about trauma. It blinded you to the obvious.
Kyla pinched the corners of the pillow between her fingers. What else was right there in front of her face? The fact that she should finally forgive and forget? That would be the healthiest thing. But that would also mean changing the course of her life and how she’d been living it up to this point. Realizing she should forgive was different than actually doing it. Because that would mean letting go of everything that had been protecting her until now, and that was simply too tall of an order. Too much to ask. And Lord help her, she didn’t think she was strong enough.
The truth was, Ben had been slowly chipping away at her defenses since she’d come back home. She wanted to love him. But more than that, she wanted to trust him, and to trust herself with that feeling. And that scared her.
She shook her head at the fire that was so completely indifferent to her problems. No. No, in order to get right again, in order to straighten all of this out in her heart, she needed to be away from this town and all its associated pain. That didn’t mean abandoning Frances. She’d help her figure out her future, and she’d still be close—close enough to see her nearly every day. But not close enough to run into Ben Martinez and be tempted to give all of herself over to him. She’d worked too hard over the years to keep something like that from happening.
She swallowed with some difficulty. No matter what Ben said, no matter what he thought, this wouldn’t be running away. It was simply self-preservation. He knew all about that, since he’d been hurt, too.
But as she watched the last of the embers in the fireplace flicker and die, she knew that wasn’t true at all. She would be running away.
Again.