HOLLY let the door close, not caring whether or not Dax was right behind her. Her conscience chafed at such a vengeful attitude. She tried to ignore it. She reached her car but couldn’t move to unlock it. Her thoughts turned heavenward.
I don’t get it, Lord. If I show any concern, he lashes out. I’m not asking him to bare his soul, for pity’s sake. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. After our conversation last night and his call to me this morning, I thought…. What difference does it make? I was wrong. He didn’t mean any of it the way I chose to take it. Why do I do this to myself? Help me, Lord. Help me forget him.
Dax moved into her field of vision as she inserted the key into the car door lock. She opened the door but halted in the process of getting in when he bypassed the vehicles in the lot, headed for the street on foot. Was he walking home?
She sighed. “Dax!”
He halted and turned, his brow furrowed.
Holly pointed to her car. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”
Frowning, he glanced toward the street, sighed, and came toward her.
She slipped behind the wheel and flipped the little switch on the driver’s door to unlock the others.
Without a word, he dropped into the passenger seat and closed the door.
In minutes, she deposited him in the parking lot of his apartment complex, in the space next to his truck. He said nothing as he got out and slammed the door.
Not that she’d expected much else.
The locks clicked when she put the car in reverse, and she started to back out of the parking spot.
Dax didn’t head for his apartment as she’d anticipated. He went straight for his truck then promptly dropped his keys. He bent down to pick them up, only to fumble them.
She put on the brakes. Was he going to drive in his condition?
Against her better judgment, Holly slammed the gearshift into PARK and got out, leaving the car partway in the driveway and her car door standing open. She walked around to Dax’s side and noticed that his hands shook.
As he inserted the key into the lock, a process almost painful to watch given how steady his nerves usually were, she laid a stilling hand over his. His gaze snapped around, making her realize he’d been unaware of her approach. That heightened her concern.
“I don’t think you should drive right now.” She forced a light tone, hoping he wouldn’t read criticism in her words, just concern for his safety.
He frowned.
“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll give you a ride. Come on.” She motioned toward her car and took a step toward it.
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
Holly bristled and fought to control a temper that wanted to fire right back at him. “No. You’re not.” She pointed to his trembling hands.
Dax glanced down and clenched them into fists, lowering them to his side.
She winced as one fist white-knuckled around his keys. That had to hurt.
“I don’t need a babysitter.” Dax’s tone hardened even more.
He apparently didn’t appreciate the fact she’d noticed his weakness. “Dax—”
“Leave me alone,” he growled before Holly could say anything further. He turned, jammed his key into the lock, and gave it an aggressive flip of the wrist, wrenching the door open.
“Fine, if that’s the way you want it.” Her temper hit its limit when she had to jump back to avoid being hit by his door. “Just don’t come crying to me or anyone else if you kill someone!”
She turned and stomped back to her car. The moment her hand grabbed her car door, she froze. Heavy remorse sliced through her. Tears clogged her throat. How could she say something like that to him, especially after the morning he’d had? Oh, God, what did I just do?
Holly dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, anger having turned away from Dax and at herself. When will you learn to bridle your tongue? That was an outright hateful thing to say to the poor man after what he’s been through.
She jumped at a series of taps on the passenger window. She pressed the unlock button and braced for a chewing out she fully deserved.
Dax surprised her by dropping into the same seat he’d vacated moments earlier. He said nothing but didn’t close the door, one foot still on the ground. His face unreadable, he stared straight ahead.
I can’t stand the silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something so… I didn’t think before I spoke.”
He didn’t respond for the longest time, continuing to stare out the front window. “My parents live in one of the canyons off Highway 92, south of Nicksville.” His gaze swung to hers, still inscrutable.
“That’s fine.”
Dax studied her for a moment then nodded, pulling his foot into the car. The door closed more gently than Holly had expected.
The drive passed quietly. Dax provided instructions on where to turn to find his parents’ home. Since the driveway had direct access to Highway 92 instead of being on a back road, it was a very short conversation. Holly followed the driveway.
That part of the canyon didn’t bear as many signs of the massive fire that had swept through the area the month before. The trees weren’t defoliated, scorched black, or burned to the ground like other areas. Grass remained. The smell of smoke and charred vegetation still hung over the mountains though. It permeated the car through the air conditioner. Only a few good rains would drive that away.
A single-level, ranch-style home sprawled in the middle of a clearing at the end of the circular driveway. Mustard with adobe-red trim. The landscape was clean and well-kept. Xeriscaped with plants native to the area, if she didn’t miss her guess. She followed the driveway to the right and circled toward the house, stopping with the passenger door at the end of a flagstone walkway that led to the front door.
“How’s that for door-to-door service?” She tried for a light tone.
With marked disinterest or something close to it, Dax glanced at her. “Thanks for the ride.” He reached for the door handle, gave it an easy yank, and pushed the door open.
“Anytime.”
A tap on her window caused Holly to jump half out of her seat. Only the seatbelt kept her in place.
A woman of about sixty stood beside the car, leaning down to look at her. Blond still mingled in graying hair tied at the nape of her neck. Blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. A dirt-streaked t-shirt and blue jeans with muddy knees suggested she’d been crawling around on the ground. Gardening? A black sable German shepherd sat at her side, his gaze watchful.
Holly rolled down the window.
“Can I help you?” A welcoming but puzzled smile lit the woman’s face.
“I’m just dropping Dax off.” Holly pointed to her passenger.
~~~
Dax climbed out and closed the door, meeting his mother’s gaze over the car. Her pleased smile dissolved into concern. He blanked his expression, but he doubted that would stop her from reading him like a book. She leaned back down to speak to Holly.
A bad feeling crept over him. He just wanted Holly to leave. He’d surrendered to her argument against him driving. That was enough. He didn’t want Mom to know how poorly he and Holly related. He’d already been chewed out by Brett in the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t need another lecture on top of everything else.
~~~
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” The woman held out a hand. “Terry Donovan, Dax’s mother.”
“Holly Randall.” She accepted the offered hand.
Terry’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ve heard that name. You work with Brett as a paramedic, right?”
Holly nodded. Had Dax told his parents about her?
“Brett’s mentioned you often over the last couple of years.”
She shouldn’t feel quite so deflated, but she couldn’t help it. Holly forced a smile to hide disappointment.
Terry’s eyes narrowed again in speculation. “You look familiar though. Have I seen you at church?” She named the church she and Wes attended.
“I don’t get there often because of work, but I attend when I can.”
“That’s why you seem familiar.” Dax’s mother nodded. “Have you eaten lunch?”
Holly shook her head, guessing what was next. “I’m just dropping Dax off and headed home to get some sleep.”
“Nonsense. You’ll sleep better if you’re not famished. Come inside. I’m fixing lunch for Wes. It won’t be any trouble to feed two more.” Terry walked around the car without waiting for a response, the dog at heel.
Holly hesitated but couldn’t see a way out without being rude and just driving away. She shifted the car to PARK, turned off the ignition, and got out.
Dax waited at the front door after pushing it open for his mother.
As Holly stepped past him, she avoided looking up, not wanting to see the scowl sure to be there. She wasn’t any happier than he was, but there was no use belaboring the point.
“Dax, check it,” Terry called from across the room as he crossed the threshold and started to close the door.
He froze and glanced at his mother, whose eye contact was stern. He sighed and nodded, closing the door.
“Check what?” Holly asked, confused.
“Nothing,” Dax grumbled. His gaze landed in the vicinity of his boots, and he motioned her to precede him. “Follow her to the kitchen. I have to make a quick phone call. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Sure.” She went in the direction Terry had disappeared then followed the clatter of pots, pans, and utensils.
The kitchen was painted bright yellow with red, white, and black accents. It would’ve been eye-popping except for black appliances and white cabinets to break it up. Flecks of white, yellow, and red speckled dark granite counters. An island in the center of the kitchen served double duty as work space and a breakfast bar. The floors were heavy, dark red Mexican tile with adobe colored grout. The adjoining dining room had the same flooring and colors, with an oak table in the center surrounded by six chairs. Two more chairs bracketed an oak hutch.
The dog had taken residence on a large pillow inside a pair of French doors, his gaze watchful but not threatening.
“Beautiful kitchen.” Holly couldn’t help feeling faintly envious, even as she resisted the urge to straighten the crooked napkins in the holder on the breakfast bar. She shoved her fingertips into her front pockets.
“Thank you.” Terry looked up from laying bacon on a hot cast iron skillet. “We remodeled a couple of years ago, and it works much better. Have a seat.” She pointed to stools at the breakfast bar. Red, white, and yellow plaid fabric covered the padded seats.
“Dax said he needed to make a quick phone call, so he’ll be a minute.” Holly climbed onto a stool. After a quick glance toward the hall, she turned back. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“What did you mean earlier?”
Terry cast her a questioning glance.
“You told Dax to ‘check it’ when he came in. Check what?”
“His attitude.” Dax’s mom came to the island, lowering her voice. “I know my son, and I know when his temper’s brewing. He’s been like that since his teens. I started telling him to check the attitude at the door whenever he came in looking for a fight. You have no idea how many laps that boy has made around this house over the years.” She smiled.
“Oh.” Holly fidgeted. Dax wouldn’t want me to know any of this. I shouldn’t have asked. Her gaze dropped to her joined hands lying on the counter. Should I tell Terry what happened this morning? Probably not her place. She breathed a sigh of relief when Dax entered the kitchen. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the irony of that.
“Dad’s on his way.” He sat at the breakfast bar, leaving an empty stool between him and Holly.
“Good.” Terry pulled a small basket of eggs out of the refrigerator. She halted in putting the basket on the counter and glanced at Holly. “Have you ever eaten farm eggs?”
“Yes, ma’am. I grew up on a farm. Mom’s always had chickens. Why?”
Dax cast her a surprised look.
She ignored him and reached over to straighten those napkins, making sure they all faced the same direction and the edges lined up.
“Okay.” Terry looked relieved. “I’ve had some odd reactions from people over the years when they see the color of the yolks of homegrown eggs. The first time Myriah ate eggs here as a teenager, she thought I’d added orange dye. She’d never seen yolks except in anemic commercial eggs.”
“Are you serious?” Holly laughed.
Terry nodded, chuckling.
A tight look crossed Dax’s face.
“Who’s Myriah?”
“My brother Anthony’s wife.” Dax’s voice was as tense as the look on his face.
Holly cast him a puzzled look, which he apparently chose to ignore. “How long have they been married?” Did Dax not like the woman? Or maybe liked her too much? The latter thought threatened to throw a blanket of depression over her. She forced it away.
Terry broke eggs into a bowl. “They celebrated their first anniversary on New Year’s Day. Their first baby is due next month.” The smile she briefly aimed at Holly beamed with pride and anticipation.
“How wonderful! You all must be so excited!”
“Yeah, well, they’ll never catch up to Chase and Jordan.” Dax toyed absently with a dish towel that had been lying on the counter.
“Chase and Jordan?” Holly wished she knew more about Dax’s family so she could readily place the names.
“My other brother and his wife,” Dax explained without inflection. A brief flash of annoyance crossed his face. Did he not like either of his brothers’ wives?
“They’ve been married almost seven years. Expecting their fourth child in September,” Terry supplied.
“Wow! They aren’t wasting any time, are they?” Holly chuckled. “Any other siblings?”
“Our baby sister, Missy. She and her husband married the year before Chase and Jordan.”
“Are they aiming to produce a basketball team, too?” Holly grinned.
“No.” Dax shared a sad look with his mother before she turned back to cooking. “They just had their daughter Megan in May. She came a few weeks early. Missy’s health is somewhat fragile, so they’ve had fertility issues. They lost a baby about three years ago.” He looked at his hands again.
“I’m sorry,” Holly whispered, not sure how else to respond.
“Not your fault.” He shrugged almost too casually, casting a quick glance toward her. His gaze didn’t meet hers.
“Little Megan is our miracle baby.” Terry’s soft smile spoke of deep affection. “And Missy’s doing better. She just needs time and care. Aaron’s making sure she gets both. What about you, Holly? Any siblings?”
“Just one. My twin sister Shannon.” She smiled.
Terry shot a surprised look over her shoulder then cast Dax an amused look. “Identical or fraternal?”
“Identical.” The question surprised her. Holly couldn’t recall being asked that before. Most people assumed they were identical.
“Fraternal twins run in our family.” Terry waved a spatula in Dax’s direction. “My brother Mark and I are fraternal twins. So are Dax and Chase.”
“Really?” Holly’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at Dax. “Are you anything alike?”
“No.” Dax’s voice was level, but that flash of annoyance appeared again.
“Don’t believe him. They have the same stubborn streak.” Terry laughed. “They share a few traits, like the same chin and cheekbones. Otherwise, they look very different. Most people would never guess they were twins.” She shoved eggs onto a platter. “Dax looks more like Wes, Chase like me, but the personalities are opposite. Chase has Wes’ easy, outgoing manner. Dax has my less-than-stellar temperament.”
Holly cast Dax a dubious look. Terry didn’t strike her as temperamental and unfriendly like her son.
Dax intercepted her look and frowned.
She averted her gaze.
“Where is everybody?” came a call from the living room.
“In here, Dad.” Dax pushed off the stool and disappeared.
“Now that he’s occupied, do you want to tell me what happened?” Terry set platters of bacon and eggs on the dining room table. Then she reached into a side cupboard against one wall in the dining room, took out plates, and handed them to Holly, who gladly accepted the distraction. Hopefully Terry would forget the question if Holly ignored it. “I spoke to Dax yesterday, and he was fine. So I assume something happened during his shift.”
“You should ask him.” Holly ducked her head and set four plates around the table, two on each side. She accepted silverware from Terry.
“Is something wrong with his truck?” Terry changed tactics, but Holly wasn’t falling for it.
“No. I just didn’t want him to drive.” That was all she’d say on the matter. Dax disliked her enough without her ratting him out to his mother.
Terry seemed to recognize Holly had said all she intended to and let the subject drop.
~~~
Dax hunted for his father, hoping to intercept him before he headed for the kitchen. He found him dropping off a laptop and briefcase in his study. “Got a minute, Dad?”
His dad glanced at him, his smile faltering.
Dax knew distress was plastered all over his face. He didn’t need to hide it from his father.
“I always have time for you, son. You know that. What’s up?”
Pushing the door closed, Dax gathered his thoughts. How to start the ball rolling on this conversation…. He pivoted to face his father and wiped a hand across his eyes, horrified to find himself fighting tears. Weariness weighted his shoulders, and he felt powerless to straighten them. “I killed a man this morning.”
“What happened?” Dad leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed loosely over his chest, concern drawing his brows together.
He summarized the morning’s events, including the bullet in the headrest. If he held anything back, Dad would know and ferret it out anyway, so no point withholding information.
His dad listened, asking a question now and then to make sure he understood everything clearly.
When Dax wound down, exhaustion nearly took him to his knees, but his burden was no longer quite as heavy. Odd sensation. He dismissed it for later analysis.
“How do you feel about it?”
Dax stared into green eyes so like his own and tried to figure that out. How did he feel? “I know I had no choice, but….” He paused, searching for words. “I have this sick remorse in my stomach. Doesn’t matter that he was a drug smuggler trying to put drugs in the hands of kids, or that he tried to kill us. I can’t shake it, and I can’t get his face out of my head.” Those lifeless eyes staring at the sky would haunt him for a very long time, no doubt.
“You should talk to your mom,” Dad suggested after a long silence.
“I don’t want her to know about this.” Horror filled him at the thought of Mom finding out.
His dad pushed away from the desk and crossed the room to stand in front of him, resting both hands on his shoulders.
“Your mother will understand. Talk to her.” He turned Dax around and gave him a gentle push toward the door, reaching around him to open it.
He followed his dad down the hall, dragging his feet. Before they reached the kitchen, he grabbed his father’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “I’m thinking about resigning.” The admission tore from him. It felt like failure.
“Because of this morning?” Dad’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, and no. I’ve thought about it for a while. This morning just… I don’t know. I don’t think I can do it anymore.” He shook his head. Disillusioned. Discouraged. “The job isn’t what I expected.” He raised a hand. “I know. You and Mom tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen.”
“Sometimes we have to experience things for ourselves to understand what we’re getting into. Your mom and I know that.” His scrutiny intensified. “Talk to your mother. She’ll understand. Now, come on before lunch gets cold.” He slapped an affectionate hand on Dax’s shoulder and guided him back to the kitchen. “Give yourself time. It’ll be alright,” he assured as they entered the kitchen.
Dax wasn’t so sure.