Discovering You. Brenda Novak
Читать онлайн книгу.
you’ve fallen to a whole new low,” she muttered to herself. She needed to get her little girl back home. Cassia was the only anchor she still had in her life. She wouldn’t have made this mistake if Cassia was with her.
Getting her child back early wouldn’t be easy. Charlie’s parents wouldn’t welcome the idea. They’d likely start a fight as soon as she mentioned it.
Tears burned her eyes as she entered her drive and parked. Then she sat there, staring at her new house. She needed to hang all the art waiting in the detached garage, make this place her home in the truest sense. But some of those pieces were so heavy they’d require a helper, which she didn’t have, not unless she went to the trouble of hiring someone.
Anyway, the paintings would only remind her of Charlie, she told herself. He was the one who’d bought them for her—and she already thought of him far too often. She’d never get over him if she didn’t do what she could to move on.
She saw a light go on next door and realized it was probably coming from Rod’s room. The window that glowed in the darkness was on the second floor, and it had a small deck with stairs that led to the backyard and overlooked the river. She grabbed her purse, but just as she reached for the door latch, he confirmed that it was his room by coming out onto that deck and looking down at her car.
She wished she’d hurried inside while she’d had the chance to do it without being observed. How could she be so desperate as to proposition her new neighbor?
He must’ve thought she was pathetic...
Blinking back the tears that’d threatened a moment before—the situation would only get worse if he believed she was crying over his rejection—she forced herself to climb out of the car. She wanted to offer him an apology for being so forward, and to promise she’d never approach him like that again. But he was too far away to hear her, and she wasn’t about to walk any closer.
Better to prove it, anyway.
So she acted as though she didn’t notice him standing there and said nothing.
Once she was safely inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, locked the door and went to lie on Cassia’s bed, where she could hug one of her daughter’s stuffed animals while she waited for morning. Although she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time—she’d had trouble getting a solid eight hours ever since that night—she didn’t bother turning on any lights. She just stared at the moonbeams filtering through the window.
The next morning Mack walked into the kitchen. “What happened last night?” he asked.
Rod glanced up from his cereal bowl. He wasn’t feeling any better for having slept. As a matter of fact, he was worse. He wasn’t bleeding anymore and some of the scrapes he’d sustained when he fell from his bike were starting to scab over, but every muscle was sore. He could hardly move without wincing. He was beginning to wonder if he should’ve listened to Chief Bennett and gone to the hospital—not for his leg but for his hand. It was almost twice its normal size and hurt whenever he tried to use it.
“Last night was freaking crazy,” he said. And Mack didn’t know it, but the fight wasn’t the only crazy part. Rod felt terrible about what’d taken place between him and India. He should’ve gone to her place. So what if she wanted to pretend he was her dead husband? It wasn’t her intention to be hurtful or selfish; she was just looking for an escape from the pain. He’d had low moments like that in his life, hadn’t he? When he’d needed to be with someone?
Besides, there were worse tasks than giving a woman a little pleasure and comfort...
“Grady woke me up, said you’d been in a fight with the prick who was giving Natasha so much trouble.” Mack walked over to the cupboard to grab himself a bowl. “When I opened my eyes this morning, I thought maybe it was a bad dream. But now that I see you...”
Rod used his left hand to bring the spoon to his mouth. “I wish it were a dream.”
“Tell me the other guy looks worse.”
“He should. He’s the one who’s in the hospital.”
“Good for you,” Mack said. “I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Sounds like he’s where he deserves to be.”
Rod rested his elbows on the table. “Whether he deserved it or not, I wasn’t trying to hurt him that bad. He can’t fight worth shit, but he doesn’t seem to understand his own limitations. Every time I’d step back, thinking he’d had enough, he’d take another swing at me.”
“Stubborn son of a bitch,” Mack grumbled. “So how’d it end? Did someone call the police or what?”
“I called. The fight didn’t happen outside the bar. It happened on the road when I was on my way home. And he needed an ambulance.”
Mack whistled. “Which officer came out? Hope it was Howton. Far as cops go, Howton’s not too bad.”
“None other than Chief Bennett. Just my luck, right?”
“He’s not a big fan of yours, not since your ex-girlfriend filed that complaint claiming you beat her.”
Rod grimaced at the reminder. “I never touched Melody.” He’d never even been tempted to strike a woman, but if he ever did, he wouldn’t have the police to fear as much as his older brother. Dylan would beat him to within an inch of his life—and Dylan was one of the few people who could do it. “She was pissed off that I was calling it quits and was trying to get back at me.”
“I know that, and you know that. But once this kind of accusation’s been launched, the dude never gets the benefit of the doubt. There’ll always be people who wonder, and I think Bennett’s one of your skeptics.”
Rod thought so, too. What Melody had done still enraged him. It was so unfair. But the more he protested, the guiltier he looked. He’d had to let it go. He could only hope that someday she’d come forward and tell the truth.
Maybe when she was over him. Until then...
“Bennett’s not a big fan of any of ours,” Rod said as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “But at least he’s not as bad as the former chief.”
“You would’ve gone to jail if Stacy was still in charge,” Mack agreed. “He loved to yank Dylan’s chain, and he knew he could do that by harassing one of us.” He poured himself some of the Wheaties Rod had on the table. “Does Natasha know you wound up fighting the guy who kept coming on to her?”
“Not unless Grady woke her, too. Why?”
“She won’t be happy about it. You heard her last night. She thinks she can fight her own battles.”
“Yeah, well, it got personal when he crashed into my bike.”
“I’m sure Grady didn’t wake her. He only came into my room to ask me to go with him, in case you weren’t in any shape to help load the bike.”
“Then we won’t mention it,” Rod said, but he knew there’d be no keeping it from her. Not only did she live with them, when she wasn’t in school she also worked at the shop, doing the bookkeeping and other administrative tasks. She’d see his scrapes and bruises and know something was up.
“So what now?” Mack asked. “What’re the chances this incident will just...go away?”
Rod dropped his spoon in his empty bowl. “Not very good. If that guy—Liam Whatever—decides to press charges, it could be a problem.”
Mack scooped up a spoonful of cereal. “He started it. But that might not matter. You’ve been in too many fights to get the benefit of any doubt.”
Rod didn’t appreciate the candor. “You’ve been in as many fights as I have, little brother.”
Mack