Nora Roberts - The Pagan Stone

“She’s considering an alternative because she’s concerned about your feelings.”

“My feelings regarding ladies’ boutiques are pretty much nonexistent. Why would she…”

With a nod, Cybil turned to turn off the burner under the sputtering kettle. “I see your brain’s able to engage even through your bad mood. She’s worried that opening her business there will hurt you. As her cards indicated, compassion and empathy are some of her strengths. You’re Fox’s brother in the truest sense of the word, so she loves you. She’ll adjust her plans.”

“There’s no need for that. She doesn’t have to… It’s not…” He couldn’t put the words together; they simply wouldn’t come.

“I’ll tell her.”

“No, I’ll talk to her.” Christ. “It’s just a place where something bad happened. If they boarded up all the places where something bad happened in the Hollow, there wouldn’t be a town. I wouldn’t give a good damn about that, but there are people I give a good damn about who do.”

And loyalty, Cybil thought, was one of his strengths. “She’ll make it shine. I think it’s what she’s meant to do. I saw her there. Two separate flashes. Two separate potentials. In one the place was burned out, the windows broken, the walls scorched. She stood alone inside the shell of the place. There was light coming through the broken front window, and that made it worse somehow. The way it beamed and burned over the ruin of her hopes.”

Turning again, she poured out a cup of tea. “In the other, the light was beaming and burning in through sparkling glass, over the polished floor. She wasn’t alone. There were people inside, looking at the displays, the racks. There was such movement and color. I don’t know which may happen, if either. But I do know she needs to try to make that second version the truth. She’ll be able to try if you tell her you’re okay with it.”

“Fine.”

“Well, since I’ve completed my mission, I’ll just go and leave you alone.”

“Finish your damn tea.”

She carried her cup over, leaned on the counter so they were face-to-face. A little sympathy shone in those big, brown eyes of hers. “Love’s a weight, isn’t it? And here you are loaded down with Cal and Fox, with the Hawkinses and the Barry-O’Dells. Now Layla goes and drops a big stone on the pile. There’s Quinn, too, you might as well shoulder that one because she’s the type who’ll just keep picking it back up and dropping it on again. No wonder you’re in such a sour mood.”

“That’s your take. To me, this just feels normal.”

“In that case.” She strolled around the counter to study his laptop screen over his shoulder. “My, my, you are doing your homework.”

She smelled like the woods, he thought. Autumn woods. Nothing fragile and pastel like spring, but rich and vivid, with just a hint of distant smoke.

“A lot of locations here,” she commented. “I think I get the basic idea of your groupings, but why don’t you explain your-”

He didn’t think about the move, he just made it. Usually a mistake, he knew, but it didn’t feel like one. It didn’t taste like one. He had his mouth on hers, his hands fisted in her hair before either one of them knew it was coming.

He’d jerked her off balance-he hoped in more ways than one-so her hands braced on his shoulders. She didn’t shy back or pull away, but sank in. Not surrender, but like a woman who chose to enjoy.

“No seduction,” he said with his mouth an inch from hers. “I don’t welch on a deal, so this is straight-out. We can keep dancing around this, or we can go upstairs.”

“You’re right. That’s definitely not seduction.”

“You named the terms,” he reminded her. “If you want to change them-”

“No, no. A deal’s a deal.” This time her mouth took his, just as hot, just as greedy. “And while I do like to dance, it’s…” She trailed off at the knock on the door. “Why don’t I see who that is? You probably need a moment or two to… settle down.”

And so, Cybil thought as she walked out of the kitchen, did she. She had no objections to jumping into the deep end of the pool. She was, after all, a skilled and sensible swimmer. But it didn’t hurt to take a couple of good, head-clearing breaths first, then decide if she wanted to jump into this particular pool at this particular time.

She took one of those breaths and opened the door. It took her a moment to recognize the man she’d seen a few times in the bowling center. She thought again that Gage favored his mother, as there was no resemblance she could see between father and son.

“Mr. Turner, I’m Cybil Kinski.” He stood, Cybil thought, looking embarrassed, and a little scared. His hair had gone thin and gray. He had Gage’s height, but a scrawnier build. It would be the years of drinking, she assumed, that had dug the lines in his face and webbed the broken capillaries over it. His eyes were a watered-down blue that seemed to struggle to meet hers.

“Sorry. I thought if Gage was here, I could…”

“Yes, he is. Come in. He’s back in the kitchen. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll-”

“He won’t be staying.” Gage’s voice was brutally neutral when he stepped in. “You need to go.”

“If I could have just a minute.”

“I’m busy, and you’re not welcome here.”

“I asked Mr. Turner in.” Cybil’s words dropped like stones into the deep well of silence. “So I’ll apologize to both of you. And I’m going to leave you alone to deal with each other. Excuse me.”

Gage didn’t so much as glance at her as she walked back toward the kitchen. “You need to go,” he repeated.

“I just got some things to say.”

“That’s not my problem. I don’t want to hear them. I’m living here for now, and as long as I am, you don’t come around here.”

Bill’s jaw tightened; his mouth firmed. “I put this off since you came back to town. I can’t put it off anymore. You give me five minutes, for Chrissake. Five minutes, and I won’t bother you no more. I know you only come around the bowling center when I’m off. You hear me out, I’ll make myself scarce anytime you want to come in, see Cal. I won’t come around you, you got my word.”

“Because your word always meant so much?”

Color came and went in Bill’s face. “It’s all I got. Five minutes, and you’re rid of me.”

“I’ve been rid of you.” But Gage shrugged. “Take your five.”

“Okay then.” Bill cleared his throat. “I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been sober five years, six months, and twelve days. I let drink take over my life. I used it as an excuse to hurt you. I should’ve looked after you. I should’ve taken care of you. You didn’t have nobody-anybody else, and I made it so you had nobody.” His throat moved as he swallowed hard. “I used my hands and my fists and my belt on you, and I’da kept using them if you hadn’t gotten big enough to stop me. I made you promises, and I broke them. Over and over again. I wasn’t no kind of father to you. I wasn’t no kind of man.”

His voice wavered, and he looked away. While Gage said nothing, Bill took several audible breaths, then looked back into his son’s face. “I can’t go back and change that. I could tell you I’m sorry from now until the day I die, and it won’t make up for it. I’m not going to promise you I won’t drink again, but I’m not going to drink today. When I wake up tomorrow, I’m not going to drink. That’s what I’m going to do, every day. And every day I’m sober, I know what I did to you, how I shamed myself as a man, and as a father. How your ma must’ve looked down and cried. I let her down. I let you down. I’ll be sorry for that the rest of my life.”