Beth Cornelison - To Love, Honor And Defend

“Mmm,” she hummed in acknowledgment, certain she couldn’t speak yet without her voice cracking. Bad enough she’d lost it in the apartment and fled like a startled doe. Way to keep it together, Counselor.

Libby avoided Cal’s eyes as he lifted Ally’s small duffel into the truck bed. She’d seen his haunted despair when he’d found his daughter, and she couldn’t face his tormented gaze again. Not until she’d gotten a firmer grip on her own composure.

Ally leaned against the far side of the truck, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Too tight to truly be asleep. Libby recognized Ally’s game of possum for what it was—avoidance. How many times had Libby pretended to be asleep to avoid facing her mother’s drinking and boyfriends?

A rock settled in Libby’s chest, choking her. An oppressive omen. The weight of dread.

She was going to tell Cal yes.

Damn it, she knew marrying him, for whatever reason, was flirting with disaster. But the ghosts that had rattled their chains in Renee’s apartment could not be ignored. The past could not be repeated. She couldn’t leave Ally to endure what she herself had barely survived.

Even if it meant putting her heart on the line with Cal.

Despite any possible threat from the stalker, first and foremost, Ally needed protection from her mother’s bad habits and neglect.

Turning from Ally, Libby fastened her seat belt as Cal climbed into the truck. She felt his gaze on her, but kept her attention focused on the apartment stairs.

Roach ambled out wearing a long trench coat and lighting a cigarette. The scruffy man, whose bleached hair spiked in all directions, seemed vaguely familiar. After a while, though, the parade of deadbeats through the court system began to blur. Still, she searched her memory for a previous run-in with Roach.

Cal touched her arm, and she flinched as if burned. Her emotions were too close to the surface. Even the comforting graze of his hand triggered an electric reaction that crackled along her raw nerves.

“You okay?”

No, she longed to wail. I’ve just revisited my childhood and really need for you to hold me for a minute. Or a week.

She gave him a curt nod. “Fine.”

“You know, Renee hasn’t always been this way. When I met her, she was perky and intelligent. She had so much potential. Seeing her like this…”

Judging from the grim set of Cal’s jaw and his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, he had plenty he wanted to say but couldn’t because of the four-year-old in the back seat.

As they headed out of the parking lot, Cal’s eyes shifted to Roach, and a growl rumbled from his throat. “That guy’s trouble. I don’t want Ally around creeps like him. Before Renee got involved with Gary/Jerry/what’s-his-name, before her next hit was more important than our daughter, she wouldn’t have been caught dead hanging around with a jerk like that.”

Libby cut her gaze back to the man in question. “The fact that he knew I was from the D.A.’s office tells me he’s had a few scrapes with the law. I’d be willing to bet he’s her dealer.”

Dismay filled Cal’s face then shifted to cold determination. “Great. Renee’s consorting with criminals. More ammunition for my case.”

Cal gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. He drove in stony, brooding silence.

She stole glimpses of his hard jaw and the unshaven shadow of beard that gave him a dangerous look. His appearance belied the gentle soul she knew lived beneath the rough-edged exterior. Her fingers itched to comb back the black hair curling over his collar and savor the rasp of his stubble beneath her hands. Five years ago, that weekend beard had abraded the tenderest places of her body, left his brand on her skin. The way his memory left its mark upon her heart.

She swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in her throat. He’d made his choice. He’d left her, thrown away what they’d had together. Only a fool would set herself up for that kind of fall a second time.

After a few minutes, the tense quiet in the truck became almost more unbearable than the thought of rehashing what had just happened, than facing the inevitable question: What are you going to do now, Libby?

She couldn’t walk away. She never could. Not from her mother. Not from Cal. And certainly not now from Ally.

She glanced into the back seat where Ally slept. The picture of this frail angel huddled in the back of her closet amid the filth was an image burned forever in Libby’s mind.

“All right,” she said without looking at Cal. She turned to watch the stark, winter-bare trees pass outside her window and shivered. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

Cal darted an uncertain look across the front seat then gaped as if he thought he’d heard wrong. Finally, he nodded.

“Good.” He sighed wearily and rubbed the scar on his chin with his palm. “Thank you.”

“But I have conditions.”

He chuckled wryly. “Figures.”

“Our marriage will be in name only. Separate beds.”

Scoffing, Cal shook his head. “No way. The court has to believe I’ll give Ally a Leave it to Beaver home life. Ward and June didn’t keep separate quarters.”

Libby snorted. “Pal, if you’re looking for June Cleaver, you’ve come to the wrong woman.”

She turned to check on Ally again, in time to see a pair of curious blue eyes snap shut. A grin ghosted across Libby’s lips, and she faced the front again, giving Cal’s daughter the privacy she wanted and the freedom to observe her father and his friend uninterrupted.

“I’m not asking you to make meat loaf and vacuum the house in high heels and pearls,” Cal said. “But I have to show the court that Ally will have a stable, two-parent home where she’ll be safe and loved.”

“This one’s a deal breaker. You’re in the guest room, or I walk. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he sent her a hooded glance. “Good enough. For now.”

He turned back to stare out the windshield, and a strange hollowness poked at her. Irritated with her reaction, she squeezed the door handle even tighter. She was not disappointed that he’d accepted her term of celibacy so readily.

“Fine.” And she was fine, too. Getting into bed with Cal Walters again, no matter how tempting, would be the height of stupidity.

At a traffic light, Cal drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “But you’ll need to keep up appearances in public. The world, the judge, has to believe we’re happily married…in every way.”

“Fine.” Libby pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping to calm the swirl of apprehension growing inside her.

Happily married? To Cal?

Not so many years ago, sharing her life with Cal had been her greatest hope, her dream. Now the proposition seemed more of a nightmare. A recipe for heartbreak.

“All right, then. Make time on your calendar first thing Monday to get the license.” Cal cut a sideways glance at her. “With the three-day waiting period, the soonest we can get married is Thursday.”

She shook her head. “I have a case going to trial Thursday. I’ll be in court all day.”

“All day?”

“There’ll be a recess for lunch, but—”

“Good. We’ll just grab a judge during your break and do it then.”

“Cal, I—” She stopped, unsure what her objection was. But she couldn’t shake the foreboding sense that she was making a terrible mistake.

He hoped to God he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Having listened to his mom and stepdad bicker over everything from scrambled eggs to the electric bill, he knew what it was like to grow up in a house rife with hostility.

An all-too-familiar prick of guilt needled him. Hell, the hostility should have been a clue to what was really going on. He should have known. Should have done something sooner.