The Real Mr Right. Karen Templeton
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course, laughed at him. “Bree...get real. What I felt—that was a long time ago, when none of us had a clue about, well, anything really. And after Marcia... Hell, I don’t want to even look at that horse, let alone get back up on it.” And his sister didn’t know the half of it. Neither did anyone else. “And no,” he said to Bree’s lifted brows, “I’m not calling Marcia a horse. Anyway, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, I didn’t hear much of the conversation, but last night Kelly seemed pretty convinced that Rick might hurt the children.”
“Holy crap—are you serious?”
“She certainly is. And if what she’s telling me is legit...” He sighed. “You know how I feel about this stuff. I’m not gonna let anything happen to her or the kids, if I can help it. But you can see my dilemma.”
“Yeah,” Bree sighed out, then caught their waitress’s eye and ordered a piece of cherry pie. “Okay,” she said after the pie arrived, “for what it’s worth, I only met Rick twice, and once was at their wedding when he was on his best behavior. Although even then, alarms went off. The second time was right after Cooper was born. Which is when I decided my initial suspicions had been dead-on.”
“Meaning?”
“He was—is?—full of himself, for one thing. Controlling as hell, for another. Not that I dared say anything, Kelly was clearly head over heels with the guy. And obviously okay with letting him rule the roost.”
Bree speared a hunk of the pie, pointed it at him. “What I said earlier? About how you intimidated her when we were kids? That wasn’t only because you were being a butt, but because Kelly wasn’t exactly the most secure chica in Jersey. Her parents... I swear, she couldn’t go pee without their permission. Frankly, I think the only reason they let her come over was because they figured—rightly—there’d be no funny stuff with Dad around.”
She finally pushed the bite into her mouth. “Anyway...even if watching Rick and Kelly together gave me the willies, I figured as long as Kell was happy, what business was it of mine? But then Rick lost his job, and, well... I worried then how that would impact their—” she pressed her lips together for a moment “—balance. Because I got the feeling, even from reading between the lines when she wrote, that she finally started to find her footing the same time he lost his. And that he didn’t take it well.”
“Score one for you,” Matt said, and Bree made a tick mark in the air. “Kelly ever say Rick...hurt her?”
“Physically? No. But I could definitely tell Kelly wasn’t happy. So, frankly, I was relieved when she admitted she’d asked for a divorce. I also know how much it must have wrecked her.”
“So she said. She also indicated things got worse with Rick after that.”
Bree sighed. “That would not surprise me. But here’s the thing about Kelly. Two things, actually. One, she’s fiercely loyal. Even in school she was never fickle with her friendships, like so many other girls were. Which was why it was so hard for her to split from Rick. And why, maybe, she might not be telling you, or even being totally honest with herself, about how bad things were between them. I mean, who knows, right? But she’s also law-abiding to a fault—no going over the speed limit, no crossing against the light. Made me nuts when we were younger, until I realized that, for her, obedience equated security.” She twisted to dig her phone out of her purse beside her on the seat. “So if she is violating that agreement, she must have a really good reason. Honey, believe me—you’re never gonna find anyone more trustworthy, I swear.” Glancing over as she rummaged, she said, “That help?”
“Yes. And no.”
“I know, sweetie,” Bree said gently, reaching over to squeeze Matt’s wrist before, her phone retrieved, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, then scrolled through her contacts. “Did she give you her cell number?”
“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his own phone and reading it off.
“That’s the one I have. I’ll call her tonight. But you be sure she has my number, too.” Then she stood and dropped her phone back in her purse. “And unfortunately, I’ve got an appointment downtown in twenty minutes—”
Matt grabbed the check. “You go, I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“For God’s sake, Bree—”
Laughing, she hugged him, then scooted through the lunchtime crowd, leaving him with that bittersweet feeling he got every time they parted that she didn’t need him anymore. Hadn’t, actually, in a very long time.
Outside the wind had died down, giving the feeble winter sunshine half a shot at warming the poor slobs hustling through the concrete canyons. Hands plowed into the pockets of his Giants jacket, Matt slowed his pace, half-heartedly glancing in store windows as he meandered back to his car. Normally he’d be champing at the bit to blow this town, get back home. Except currently that meant returning to something he was less sure how to handle now than he had been this morning.
And it was driving him crazy that he wasn’t becoming more sure-footed as he got older.
His entire adult life, he’d relied on his instincts to guide him. On the traits that made him who he was, that had propelled him into law enforcement without a second thought. Traits he’d assumed would make him a good husband. A good man. For someone who’d only ever wanted to do the right thing—at least, once out of the clutches of adolescence—it had come as a shock to discover that not everyone defined right, or even good, the same way.
Like, say, his ex-wife.
Oh, in theory he understood why his marriage fell apart. God knows Marcia had told him often enough, and plainly enough, that his breathing down her neck with wanting to take care of her made her crazy. But Matt’s only motive had been to make sure she was safe, that her brakes were good and her tires inflated, that she locked all the doors when he had to work late, that she didn’t take unnecessary risks when she was out late.
Just like his father had done for his mother. Who, as far as Matt could tell, had never had an issue with being taken care of. Watched out for. A good example, he’d thought. Only, according to his ex, his attitude was out-of-date, paternalistic and condescending.
He still didn’t get that.
Speaking of his dad, who needed to know he had a houseguest... Matt pulled his phone out of his inside pocket, took a breath and dialed.
“Matt!” his father boomed in his ear. “What’s up?”
Even at nearly seventy, Preston Noble still sounded like a man half his age. But with an aura of omniscience—not to mention omnipotence—that had kept all of them in line as kids. And his father still commanded both deference and respect, Matt thought on a wry smile. He loved his old man, was more grateful than he could say that he and Jeanne had taken Sabrina and him into their home, their hearts. But it wasn’t always easy living up to the Colonel’s expectations. Or sometimes even knowing what those expectations were.
Along with a dozen fellow pedestrians, he stopped at a side street to let a line of honking cars wade through the bumpy intersection. “How’s Uncle Phil and Aunt Vickie?”
“Fine. And something tells me you didn’t call to ask about them.”
A thousand miles away and he still didn’t miss a trick. “Okay, I’m not.” He squinted into the traffic. “You remember Kelly McNeil?”
“Considering she basically lived at our house for ten years? Of course.” A truck driver blasted his horn at some woman on her phone who’d darted out in front of him. “Where are you?”
“In the city,” Matt shouted over the din. “Came in to see Bree. Anyway... Kelly. She’s at the house. With her kids.”
“She is? How come?”
The light changed. Matt fell in step with the herd surging across the street, filling in his dad as he walked. When he finished, his father released