Urgent Pursuit. Beverly Long
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was his first year at Ravesville High, and he detested it when she picked him up in the van. “I’m not a little kid,” he’d say.
He wasn’t. But neither was a fourteen-year-old boy an adult. She was full-time busy trying to balance her natural tendency to keep him close and protected with the reality that she needed to let go, let him have more independence, let him make more decisions, even let him make a few mistakes.
When she’d been that age, she’d been an adult. Out of necessity. What was it Trish used to say? We were pushed out of the nest early, and we had to either fly or crash. They’d flapped their wings hard and managed to stay in the air, taking turns buying groceries, cooking dinner, doing laundry.
They’d had each other, and together, they’d managed to mostly hide a big secret.
She didn’t want anything like that for Keagan. Generally, all she really hoped for was for him to pick up his clothes off the floor and shower regularly.
Today, once he’d got home, they’d had a brief conversation, which mainly consisted of her brightly telling him about her day and asking about his and getting a few grunts in response. Then she’d left him in charge of Adie. In the past, she’d have had her mom come over to watch the kids. They loved having Grandma at the house. But in the past year or so, if she was going to be gone for only an hour or so at a time, Keagan watched Adie so that he could earn some babysitting money to buy a new bike.
She was proud of him for realizing that he needed to work for the money, that she simply wouldn’t be able to hand over a couple hundred dollars. The restaurant was doing well, and she and Trish were able to take small salaries, but by the time she paid rent and all the other assorted bills of raising children, there was little left.
She couldn’t count on Gary. He was now over six months behind in child support. And he had become more and more volatile over the past months. She still had sore ribs that substantiated that today’s incident had not been an isolated event.
But never before had it been a public event, and she was mortified. Bad enough that Chase and Cal Hollister and their wonderful fiancées should witness it, but having Bray be the one to break it up had been almost more than she could be expected to bear.
He looked fabulous. He had his thick brown hair pulled back into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck, and the short beard he wore, which was so popular now, made him look super sexy and...well, even a little dangerous.
And when he’d had Gary on his knees, practically begging for relief, it had been easy to see that it wasn’t false advertising. He’d always been a tough guy. Probably why the Marines had been a natural fit. And now that he was a DEA agent, his natural persona had been fine-tuned and he was sleek and dangerous.
Gary wasn’t that tough, but he did play dirty, and she’d tried to warn Bray. Bray would find his car towed for parking too close to a fire hydrant or get a ticket for going thirty-four in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone. Or worse. He’d come out after an evening meal and find his windshield cracked or his tires flat. That was what had happened to the one man Summer had dated postdivorce. Needless to say, the poor guy hadn’t bothered to call again.
And she was powerless to do anything about Gary. Because he knew the secret. He was part of the secret.
At the intersection, she stopped at the four-way sign. To the left was the Wright Here, Wright Now Café. At night, it was under Trish’s careful watch, allowing Summer to be home with the kids. If she went to the café tonight, her twin would instantly sense that something was wrong, and she’d force Summer to blurt out the truth.
No, she’d leave the vases in the van tonight and unload them tomorrow. She wasn’t ready to deal with her reaction to Bray, let alone talk about it to someone else. Plus, she’d probably left Keagan and Adie alone together for long enough. She turned right and drove the mile to her house. It wasn’t until she was pulling into the one-car attached garage that she noticed the car behind her.
For a quick minute, she thought it might be Gary, back for round two. But it wasn’t.
She got out and faced Bray Hollister, who was acting as if he had every right to follow her home and park in her driveway. “What are you doing here?” she said, almost wincing when she heard how bitchy she sounded.
It was just that seeing him again after so many years was too much. She hadn’t had time to prepare, time to put up her defenses. She’d been ready for him to be at the wedding reception, and she’d already planned on how she would handle the encounter. She’d be polite, a little distant, too busy to chat for long.
Now she felt naked and raw from her encounter with Gary, and she wasn’t sure she had the emotional maturity to go up against the only man she’d ever really loved.
“I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“Oh.” She felt so very small. And mean. “Thank you.”
They stared at each other. She could hear Mitzi barking and glanced over Bray’s shoulder. Across the street, she could see the small white dog through the window. She was on the back of the couch, her nose pressed to the glass.
Bray turned his head to look.
“That’s Trudy Hudder’s house,” Summer said.
“Junior English?” Bray asked.
She nodded. Mrs. Hudder had introduced literature to every student in Ravesville for forty years before retiring a few years earlier.
Adie liked to play with the dog. Would listen to hear Mitzi outside and then sneak out for a quick couple of dog kisses.
Summer whipped around to make sure her children were not at the door or with their own noses pressed up against the window. The blinds were down, thank goodness. Sometimes Keagan forgot to do that when it got dark. She turned back to Bray.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “I thought we might get a drink or something.”
“I can’t. My children are home alone.”
“You have a coffeepot?”
Bray had always loved coffee, from the time he’d been a teenager. Her, too. They’d been the only sixteen-year-olds who ordered coffee with their pizza. She should lie. Tell him she gave it up years ago. When she married someone else.
“I do,” she said.
“Works for me.” He took a couple of steps toward her, closing the ten-foot gap.
This was such a bad idea. She’d avoided having a conversation with this man for fifteen years. Had been hoping to avoid it for another fifteen. She held up her hand.
He stopped.
Bray would not force his way in. That had never been his way. He had always been a gentleman.
She could give him ten minutes. She owed him much more. She motioned with her hand for him to follow her.
They went into the house through the garage. When they stepped into the kitchen, she could hear the television blaring in the family room. There were dirty dishes on the counter that hadn’t been there when she’d left less than two hours ago. There was also a big splotch of milk on the floor, as if Adie might have been trying to pour a glass and the jug had been too heavy.
She just couldn’t worry about it now.
“I’m home,” she yelled.
“Mama,” Adie said. Feet came thundering around the corner.
Summer leaned down and scooped up her little girl. “Hey, slow down,” she said, holding her tight.
Adie squirmed in her arms. She pointed to Bray. “Who’s that?”
“This is Mr. Hollister,” Summer said.
Bray waved. “Hi, Adie. How about you just call me Bray. That’s a lot easier to say.”
“Bray,” Adie repeated. “Like neigh,” she