Cody's Come Home. Mary Sullivan
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couldn’t let it go to her head.
She’d been infatuated with Cody once. She couldn’t be so again.
She had often wondered if all of her romantic relationships had gone wrong because Cody had set the standard too high. Maybe things would have been better with her ex-husband if she hadn’t wanted him to be the great guy Cody had been.
On second thought, her problems with Trevor had nothing to do with Cody.
Even so, Cody had rescued her once in adolescence and was rescuing her again. All these years later, Cody was about to become her hero again...and she didn’t want that. She needed to take control.
She couldn’t become swamped, overtaken and overshadowed by another man.
But, God, it was good to have Cody here. Those overwhelming feelings of despair that had haunted her all night had abated the second she’d recognized his voice.
When it became time to assert herself, she’d said, “We need to move on,” taking back the control she needed, or as much as she could get at the moment.
He’d glanced up at her, those blue eyes as startling now as they had been twelve years ago, especially in contrast to his dark hair. It was too long and curling at the edge. Clearly he wasn’t taking care of himself.
Lurking in the depths of his eyes was a new darkness he hid with his phony smile and fake grins.
But was there any wonder? She’d heard about his son. Just the thought of losing Annie caused unimaginable pain. Cody had actually lived it. How had he survived? How was he functioning?
Maybe he wasn’t. He seemed hollow, a man without a core. The Cody Jordan she used to know was solid as a rock.
Yes, she was glad to see him, but where was her Cody?
Lean, hard edges defined this Cody, with nothing soft or forgiving about him, trimmed of every ounce of fat and softness. He looked tired, exhausted. Sadness enveloped him like a haze.
Her first impression of Cody? A man skirting too close to the edge, faking it to appear normal.
The Cody Jordan she’d known in high school had the sweetest, sexiest, most real smile.
There was a distance between old Cody and new Cody that was miles wide.
She pushed away the sorrow that particular truth caused. Cody used to be the greatest guy, but above all, he used to be her friend.
This Cody seemed to be a good, reliable man, but he wasn’t her Cody. She felt that loss keenly. Best not to dwell on what was lost and to move forward.
The gentle motion of Cody’s steady, deliberate steps soothed her.
If she weren’t careful she would fall asleep. Last night had been awful. Now she had this big, strong man to lean on and the temptation to give in was great—to give herself over completely to his control—but she wouldn’t.
She’d fought long and hard for her independence. She wouldn’t give it away at the first sign of trouble.
What a ridiculous situation to find herself in. An odd kind of quiet intimacy developed between them, without conversation—her because of her pain and Cody to preserve energy for walking, no doubt.
They traveled slowly. They had no other choice.
He carried her for an hour before having to stop, finding another large flat boulder for them to sit on.
When he put her down, Aiyana could only shake her head. “You didn’t exaggerate. You are strong.”
Bending over, he sucked in air.
“I can’t believe how long you lasted.” Aiyana settled onto the rock and grimaced. Everything hurt. Everything.
He didn’t respond—he was still catching his breath.
“You should go on without me, Cody. We’re close enough now for you to run out for help.”
“No.”
“You can’t keep carrying me.” She pointed toward the hill. “You can’t carry me up that!”
“I can. I will. Aiyana?”
“Yes?”
Still bent over, he peered at her through thick lashes. “Just say ‘thank you, Cody.’” His smile was more real, more like her old Cody, using her earlier words against her.
How could she not respond to the tiniest sparkle of mischief in his smile?
“Thank you, Cody.” Bereft of his warmth, she shivered, chilly again. “I really don’t want to be outdoors for another night.”
“It would be hard on us, but on the searchers, too. Your dad is really worried.”
Concern twisted her gut. “I feel so bad.”
“Aiyana, you’ve got nothing to feel bad about.” He paused before speaking again. “Now let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”
“Okay.” She studied the side of the tree-covered hill. “The incline up out of the ravine isn’t as bad here.”
“The ground’s been rising steadily.”
“It’ll be harder because of the trees.” She pointed. “There are some bare spots, though.”
“Yeah. This is where we’ll go up. Let’s eat first. If I’m going to carry you up—” he gestured toward the slope “—I need to refuel.”
“I can’t believe you carried me this far.”
His chest still rose and fell in sharp attempts at getting back his wind. “Yeah, well, thank God it stopped raining.”
That statement was so heartfelt that Aiyana laughed. “True. The highlight of my day.”
Not quite. Seeing Cody again was truly the best part of this day.
He fell onto the rock beside her, the surface so small their shoulders touched.
They finished off the rest of the pastries Laura had packed, with Aiyana leaving the remainder of the cheese and salami for Cody, along with the last protein bar.
She studied his defined profile and the way his strong jaw moved while he ate, everything about him assertive.
She worked out in the gym a couple of times a week and hiked whenever she could, so she was no couch potato. Cody, on the other hand, must work out constantly to be in such buff shape.
He was beautiful.
She started packing his bag. “Annie loves Laura’s cinnamon rolls. I should have saved her some.”
Cody flinched. Oh. Oh. What had she been thinking to mention her daughter so carelessly, knowing he was grieving?
“You can buy her one tomorrow,” he said, tone lifeless. “Today you need your energy.”
She missed Annie. She wanted to see her now, this very moment. How must Cody feel?
Sorrow seeped from him like a dark fog, despite his shallow smiles and brittle grins. She shouldn’t have mentioned Annie. What a foolish thing to do. But she could no longer ignore what had happened to him and pretend that she hadn’t heard about the death of his son.
“Cody,” she began, but he cut her off.
“Don’t.” The intensity of the order stunned her. His expression hardened before softening into a silent plea.
She opened her mouth again to speak, but he leaned forward and grasped the back of her head, closing his eyes.
He urged her closer. “Please, don’t say anything,” he whispered, so close she couldn’t see all of his face. She wanted to see him, wanted to understand everything about Cody. “No sympathy. No pity. Please. It will kill me, Ai.”
He