Loree Lough - Saving Alyssa

He rolled the suitcase into the guest room’s closet. “You’ve fixed the place up real nice. Hard to believe it’s only been a year since you moved in,” he said, glancing around. Then, pointing at her ankle, Troy said, “Let me guess. You’re planning to go out again, next chance you get.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love cycling.” It had saved her, in more ways than one. But since Troy knew that almost as well as she did, Billie saw no need to remind him of those awful, scary months following the stillbirth.

“Maybe I’ll get a bike and go with you, see if riding can fix what’s wrong with my life, too.”

The sadness in his voice wasn’t lost on Billie.

“Another fight with Victoria?”

He only shook his head.

“You’re way too good for her,” Billie said. “I never understood what you saw in—”

“Do me a favor and drop it, okay?”

She took one look at his all-business expression and decided to press him for details later, after he’d had a meal and a good night’s sleep. “You still driving that small convertible?”

“Yeah....”

“Then we’re in luck. I traded my car for a small pickup, and it came with a double bike rack. I know where we can get you a great mountain bike, too...if Victoria hasn’t talked you into another cruise or something.”

“Billie, c’mon. Give it a rest, will ya? You don’t hear me asking when you last talked to that idiot you married, or how you can afford this place after caving to avoid a confrontation with the jerk—who took way more than he deserved in the divorce settlement—if you ask me. Or if you regret giving up your job as a flight attendant just because Chuck the Pilot didn’t like you being in the air when he wasn’t.” Her brother took a breath and plowed on. “Or if you’re sorry you left Philly, where the baby is buried.”

“Okay. All right. I get the message. I’m sorry! If I’d known you would bring up every awful thing in my past, I never would have—”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

And he looked it.

“I have a good mind,” she said, pretending to pout, “not to show you where the extra hangers and clean towels are.”

Troy laughed halfheartedly. “You’d only be punishing yourself....” Wiggling his eyebrows, he said, “Now show me what you’ve done with the place since we moved you in.”

Billie gave him a tour of the five-room cottage, and then headed to the kitchen to pour two glasses of iced tea. Troy carried the tumblers and followed her to the back deck, where she flopped onto a lounge chair.

“I can’t believe how much you did in such a short time,” her brother said. “The folks made it sound like you were living in an unfurnished shoebox.” He sat on the other lounge chair. “If I could find a place like this, I might never go back.”

Evidently, things with his fiancée were worse than Billie had thought. “I know you’re vulnerable right now, so maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you there are at least two houses for sale within walking distance.”

He didn’t comment, and instead gestured to her small, fenced-in yard. “Did you plant all that stuff?”

“Artfully dodged, Jack Dawson,” she teased. “And to answer your question, yes, I planted all that stuff. Gardening is way cheaper than a therapist.”

Troy reached across the space between them and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re doing well. You had us worried there for a while.”

“Us. What a laugh. I know the rest of the family meant well, but you were the only one who was really there for me after Chuck dumped me.” She returned the squeeze. “And whether you like it or not, I intend to be there for you, too.”

“I’m countin’ on it.” He leaned back, crossed one ankle over the other. “So are you seeing anybody?”

“Between the web design business and cycling, there isn’t time for stuff like that,” she answered. “Besides, I’m not exactly girlfriend material.”

“Yet.”

Billie only shrugged. Thankfully, he hadn’t quoted their parents: “It’s been two years, Billie. You need to get hold of yourself. Put Chuck in the past and move forward with your life.”

She had moved forward. New home, new job, new friends and hobbies. But she was far from ready to consider a new man in her life.

Troy stared up at the sky. “Yeah, this is great, all right.”

His stomach rumbled, and he explained, “Like I said, I left in a hurry.”

“What say I make us each a sandwich?”

Inside, he sat at the bar counter as she assembled the ingredients. “It’s almost as if you knew I was coming,” he noted.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Ham and Swiss on rye toast is my favorite sandwich, too, remember.”

They ate in a comfortable silence.

Billie thought of how their parents didn’t seem to have any trouble airing their grievances. Clearly, it was a trait she and Troy hadn’t inherited. He rarely talked about his overseas assignments, and even when he did, the discussions were tip of the iceberg, at best. Except for that night several months after the stillbirth, when he’d come to make sure she was all right. It had been the two-year anniversary of the roadside bomb that had wiped out all but four men in his unit.

“So how’s the website business?”

“I’m doing well enough to keep the wolf from the door.”

“I didn’t see the Cannondale anywhere around,” he said. “Did you wreck it in the accident?”

“It’s a little scratched and dented, but not totaled.” She remembered all the repairs Noah had told her he’d make. “The guy at the bike shop might need to order parts, but,” she said, pointing at the ankle, “I’m not going anywhere for a while, anyway. From the way he talked, it didn’t sound expensive. At least, I hope it won’t be. I hate to dip into the savings I’ve squirreled away for real emergencies.”

“Real emergencies?”

“The furnace is on its last legs, and so’s the water heater. And in a year or two, I’ll probably need a new roof.”

“Sounds like you’re planning to make Ellicott City your permanent home.”

Billie shrugged. “I guess I am.” She looked around at the mismatched flea market lamps she’d rewired, the cushiony sofa she’d reupholstered, the glass-topped coffee table she’d made from an old wire spool. Billie didn’t even care that “shabby chic” wasn’t chic anymore, because piece by piece, she’d rebuilt her life, just as she’d rebuilt the bar counter in the kitchen.

“Mom won’t be happy to hear you’re not coming home. She figured you would...eventually.”

“Soon as that twin of yours and his wife have a couple of kids, she’ll have happier things to distract her. Besides, this is the last place Chuck will think to look for me.”

“Todd and Dani aren’t planning to have kids for another year or two. Besides,” Troy added, “after accusing you of getting pregnant on purpose to justify cheating on you? Even Chuck isn’t stupid enough to get in touch with you.”

Billie harrumphed.

Her brother paused, then turned in his chair. “Whoa. Are you saying he did?”

“No. I haven’t heard from him since the house sold. I just don’t want him adding insult to injury by calling to say he sold all our furniture.”

“Or worse,” Troy added, “to announce that scuzzball he left you for is pregnant.”

That hurt far worse than Billie cared to admit.

“I still can’t believe he got more upset about losing your half of the house than about losing the baby.”

Billie shook her head. “Why would that upset him? He never wanted her.” Heart pounding with the bitter memory, she said, “He never believed she was his, anyway.”

“That’s bull. You know it, I know it and that no-good piece of garbage knows it.”