Cindy Gerard - The Way Home

She didn’t even remember what she’d babbled about on the half-hour drive; she only knew that she had babbled, and by the time they pulled into the Crossroads parking lot, she felt one-hundred-percent certain that one Tyler Brown would be on the phone first thing in the morning booking a return flight home, as relieved as a caught-and-released walleye to be getting away from the crazy, gibberish-talking widow he’d had the bad sense to think he wanted to get to know.

She was an uptight, nervous flake who hadn’t even realized until he had shown up and shaken her insulated little world that she still felt so raw and ruled by her feelings about J.R. and his death. She should have moved on by now—or at least be working on it. She hadn’t. She wasn’t. And regardless of the fact that she would not let herself even think about moving on with a man so much like her dead husband, Ty’s ability to shake things up this way proved how badly she needed to get on with the business of living.

Since embarrassment didn’t even scratch the surface of how she felt about her behavior, he’d barely rolled to a stop when she shoved open the passenger-side door. The overhead lamp wasn’t harsh, but she felt ten times more exposed for the coward she was when light flooded the front seat.

“Thanks for dinner. I’m sure you’re tired. Long flight and all that. Good night.”

“Jess.”

His soft voice stopped her from jumping out of the Jeep.

“Wait. For God’s sake, wait a second.”

He sounded frustrated yet infinitely concerned.

“Shut the door, OK? The bugs are getting in.”

Although Kayla had closed up and left only a security light on inside the store, a light burned over the giant walleye figure on one side of the road, and the lights from the fuel island burned on the other. The vapor bulbs drew mosquitoes the way the North Pole drew snow.

She shut the door. Folded her hands on her lap and stared straight ahead.

“Do I really scare you that much?” he asked, so softly and with so much disquiet that she felt ashamed of her spinelessness. Ashamed enough to admit it.

“Yes,” she confessed, still not looking at him. “Yes, you do.”

“How can I make that go away?”

She pushed out a harsh laugh. “You can’t.”

TY STARED AT the profile of this woman whom he absolutely could not figure out. Then a belated thought hit him hard and low. “Oh, man. Are you involved with someone?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. I’m not involved with anyone.”

Only curiosity outdistanced his relief. “No one since your husband?”

She slowly shook her head.

What? Were the men around here blind or just plain stupid? Or were they maybe not as persistent as they needed to be? This was a woman who clearly knew how to redirect the attention from herself and avoid talking about anything remotely personal. Core-deep, her involuntary reflex was to deflect. But you bottle things up long enough, and eventually, the cork is going to pop. Like at dinner, when her emotions got the best of her.

“Don’t you think maybe it’s time you changed that?” he asked gently.

“That’s the problem,” she said to her hands. “I don’t know what I think. Until you showed up this afternoon, I didn’t have to think.”

Her low groan made it clear that she’d realized something about herself. They were making headway. “Ah. So it’s not me. It’s the idea of change.”

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. “So it would seem.”

“Well, that’s something I can do something about.”

She rolled her head to look at him. “What can you do that I haven’t been able to do in three and a half years?”

Because she looked so lost and defeated, he lifted a hand, let the back of his fingers brush along the ridge of her cheekbone. He told himself the touch was for her. To steady her. But the truth was, he’d been wanting to touch this woman since the first time he’d seen her. “I can give you a reason and enough time to get used to the idea.”

She shook her head and sent the copper feathers at her ears trembling. “Right now, it doesn’t feel like there’s enough time in the world.”

“But we both know different, right? How does the Bible verse go? To everything there is a season? A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. Maybe it’s your time to dance.”

She glanced at him, confusion creasing her brows. “I don’t get you.”

“You’re not supposed to. It’s part of my charm.”

Before she could check herself, she smiled. “Seriously? You want to stick around after that dog-and-pony show I subjected you to tonight?”

“What? I found the history of the Smokey Bear statue in the middle of the city center riveting.”

A weak laugh tempered another groan.

“Hey. You were nervous. My mom is a nervous talker. I get it. And my brother, Mike? Get him in a dicey situation, and he literally can’t keep his mouth shut. It’s a defense mechanism. Me, I get quiet. Makes me think we might work well together. Yin/yang? Black/white? Day/night?”

She shook her head again. “I’m a mess. And I didn’t even know it until you showed up. You should be running in the opposite direction. Why aren’t you?”

“Because if I go back that way? I’m going to end up just like you.”

She shifted in the seat, then searched his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

He looked down at her hands. Then back at her face. “One more time. Ask me why I didn’t come back until now.”

Several tense, lengthy seconds passed before her curiosity won out over reluctance. “OK. Why didn’t you come back until now?”

“Because shortly after I went back to Florida… I lost someone, too.”

IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME since I’ve been out on the lake.” Jess dug deep with her paddle early the next morning as she glided alongside Ty’s matching kayak. The surface of the water glistened, glass-smooth and reflecting a cerulean-blue sky dotted with bridal-white clouds. “You grow up around something—even something as beautiful and unblemished as Lake Kabetogama—and you take it for granted. I’ve really missed being out on the water.”

Last night, as she’d sat in the Jeep with Ty and realized they had much more in common than she’d ever thought, she hadn’t been capable of telling him no when he’d asked her to spend the day with him.

“Get Kayla to cover for you again,” he’d said, pressing his advantage. “Spend tomorrow with me. I’ll tell you about Maya. And you can tell me about J.R.”

Chalk it up to nerves or the fact that she’d been prepared for him to tell her just about anything… anything except that he’d lost someone, too. Or maybe it was the momentary flash of pain she’d seen in his eyes, a pain she’d seen in her own eyes too many times over the past few years when she’d caught sight of her reflection in a mirror.

Whatever the excuse, she’d said yes. So today, Kayla and two of her high school part-timers were minding the store, and Jess was doing something she hadn’t done in years with a man who, in turns, made her nervous and comfortable and excited and hopeful.

The hopeful part of the equation worried her most, because one thing would never change. She would not get involved with a warrior again. It didn’t matter that he was retired. What mattered was the mentality, the reckless disregard for their own safety, the unalterable alpha gene embedded in their DNA. The right cause, the right call, and he’d be gone. He’d be in danger. And he could end up dead.