Night Driving. Lori Wilde
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ocean as much as I do and—”
“Are you insane? Didn’t you learn anything from my experience with Shaina—”
“I’m not you, Boone,” she snapped. “And Scott isn’t Shaina. This is real love, not some hot, horny, drunken Vegas hook-up on the eve of your enlistment—”
“Listen to yourself. Real love? You’ve only been dating the guy a month. He could be a serial killer for all you know.” Boone clenched a fist, quelled the urge to jump up and start pacing.
“Six weeks. I’ve known him six weeks.”
“Oh yeah, my mistake. Two weeks makes all the difference. Why didn’t you say so?”
“I thought you’d be happy for me. I finally found someone who means as much to me as the ocean.”
“You know exactly who you’re acting like, don’t you?”
“Don’t say it,” Jackie growled.
“Miranda.”
“I am nothing like our mother.”
He knew he’d struck a chord but for some unfathomable reason he just kept pushing. “Miranda married my dad after only knowing him for two months. How long did she date Jack before she plunged into that relationship? Six weeks, wasn’t it?”
“I cannot believe you’re reacting this way.”
Boone couldn’t believe it either. What was the matter with him? His knee hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but that was no excuse. He could hear tears in her voice and that alarmed him. Jackie was a tough cookie. She didn’t cry easily.
You, Toliver, are the world’s biggest loser.
“I’m sorry.” He backed down. “You took me by surprise. Just tell me you’re going to have a nice, long engagement to make sure this guy is really the one.”
“We’re getting married in Key West on Saturday on the Fourth of July.”
“This Saturday? Are you out of your mind?”
“If you can be happy for me, then you’re welcome to attend the wedding. It’s at four o’clock on the Sea Anemone at Wharf 16,” she said, referring to Jack Birchard’s research vessel. “If not, then stay in Montana and stew in your own self-pity.”
“Jackie, I—”
She hung up on him.
Boone swore under his breath and immediately called her back. She didn’t pick up, letting the call go to voice mail. He tried three more times. She still did not answer.
A raw ache gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Disgusted with himself, he slung the cell phone across the yard.
Smart. Real smart. Now you gotta go get it.
Guilt was a rock on his shoulders. He pushed up from the chair, winced against the bolt of pain that shot up his leg. He stared at the steps, swallowed hard. Going down them would take forever. He blew out his breath.
And suddenly there was Tara.
Relief washed over him and he instantly hated the feeling. He didn’t need to be rescued.
She bent down to pick up his phone, then raised her head, concern in her eyes. “Did you have a fight with your sister?” She mounted the steps to hand him the phone.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly.
“You’re welcome.” She paused.
He said nothing.
“I guess you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I don’t.”
She nodded, sank her hands on her hips. “Okay. If you want to talk, though, I’m here. At least, for another week.”
“So,” he said, searching for something to say. “You’re moving.”
“Uh-huh. Going back home. My mom’s sick.”
“I hate to hear that.”
“Breast cancer, but they caught it early. She’s gotta have chemo and radiation, but she’s going to be okay. It’s just that, well, when something like this happens, you start thinking about what’s really important in life and there’s nothing more important than family, so I’m moving back.”
Boone almost said, “I’ll miss you.” But he bit down on his tongue to keep from uttering the words. He didn’t even know why he’d thought of it. She mainly drove him crazy with her good-natured prying. “Thanks for getting my phone for me. That was nice of you.”
“You’re welcome. I can tell you’ve been having a tough time of it.” Her gaze drifted to his knee brace. “You’re not nearly as gruff as you want everyone to think.”
Jackie would disagree.
“I know you’re the one who shoveled Mrs. Levison’s driveway last winter.” She nodded at the house of the elderly widow next door. “And that you got up at dawn to do it so she wouldn’t catch you and try to pay you.”
“Who, me?” He shrugged. “With this leg?”
“Probably one of the reasons you had to have a third surgery. You can’t stay still.”
Boone winced. She was right. “You’re too darn nosy for my own good.”
Their gazes met.
She raised a hand. “I have to go start packing.”
“Have a safe trip.”
“I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”
“Okay,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.
A small furrow creased her brow. “Are you all right?”
“Never better.”
“You’re such a liar.”
An involuntary smile twitched his lip. “I know.”
She tilted her head, studied him like he was a sad case. “Take care of yourself, Toliver.”
“Same to you, Duvall.” He wished she’d go. Boone didn’t want her watching him limp inside.
He waited until she’d disappeared before he crushed the empty beer can, scooped the bottle of pills off the table and dragged himself into his living room. He dry-swallowed one of the pills and grimaced. He was too antsy to sit, in too much pain to stand and too worried about Jackie to do anything else. He tried calling her again, but she wasn’t answering. He left a voice mail apologizing for what he’d said and asked her to please call him.
He pictured her in Florida, telling her fiancé what a tool her big brother was. Who was Boone to think he had a right to dictate how she should live her life? He had no right, and yet he could not in good conscience let her marry in haste. He’d done it. Lived through the fallout. Didn’t want her to make the same mistake. He had to see her face-to-face. Had to talk to this coastie she seemed hell-bent on marrying.
Things hadn’t been easy for Jackie. Their mother might have stayed with her longer, but that only seemed to have messed with Jackie’s head more. Boone considered himself lucky that he didn’t even remember Miranda.
Jackie, on the other hand, had been ten when Miranda took off, leaving her to be raised by her demanding father. She’d spent her life trying to measure up to Jack Birchard, and she’d told Boone on more than one occasion that the only time she felt truly relaxed were the summers they spent together in Montana at their Aunt Caroline’s lake house. Both of them kept hoping that one day Miranda would show up at her sister’s house, but she never did.
Boone’s dad had married Miranda right out of high school. He told Boone that he couldn’t call the marriage a mistake, because if he hadn’t married