All I Need (Hearts of the South) (17 page)

“Where’s Dad?”

“Your daddy and I are separated again. He’s in the Bahamas.” She unfolded her napkin and placed it just so in her lap. “With the manager of his golf club.”

“Son of a
bitch
.” He slammed both palms against the edge of his seat. Could this get any worse? “And nobody thought to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to—”

“Mama, if you say you didn’t want me to worry or to be mad at him, I swear to God I’ll lose it right here.” He reached for his water. Damn it all, he needed something stronger. “And don’t tell me swearing is a sin.”

He downed half the glass, then focused his attention on his sister. “This isn’t the first time.”

She looked away, her silence answer enough, and suddenly, all of her silence over the last few months made a sick kind of sense. Frank had hated him on sight, and Emmett hadn’t cared for him much either. Emmett had thought it was about him, but maybe it had been about Frank—and Landra—all along. Because no way would Landra have been able to keep this a secret from him if they’d had any kind of normal interaction.

His stomach flipped over again. He didn’t want to know how many times there’d been.

Maybe he could help make sure it was the last time.

“What exactly did you tell Frank?”

“That Mama was coming up for some shopping and dinner, and I was riding along. I told him Mama would be suspicious if I cried off.” She lifted her shoulders in a tight, unhappy shrug. “He bought it, and I figured it would give me some lead time until I could figure out what to do.”

A few more swallows of water, and he was almost cool enough to think straight. “So what we’re going to tell him is that you got sick after dinner. I took you home with me because it was closer than going home. Mama decided to drive up to Perry to see Aunt Grace, and I’m driving you home after work tomorrow. That should give us a little more time. You can talk to Autry Reed, who’s doing family law now, and maybe with her background in defense, she can keep me out of jail if he shows up and I kick his ass.”

The server arrived with their meals. He stared at his steak. No way he could stomach that. He’d take it to Chris Parker; maybe the department K9 would enjoy it.

His mother slanted a knowing glance at him. “Have you always been this devious?”

He tried humor to defuse the anger and stress holding his gut hostage. “I had to cover all the crap Clark led me into when we were in high school somehow.”

Landra picked at her pasta and pushed the plate away. The green tinge around her mouth said they wouldn’t be lying about her feeling sick. “Because Clark did
all
the leading astray, right?”

“Of course he did. I was an angel.”

His mother’s snort was anything but reserved and ladylike.

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. He tugged it free to find a text from Savannah glowing on the screen.

Headed home. Text me when you get in.

Ah, hell. She was reaching out to him, and that was supposed to make him feel good. It would, too, if he didn’t have the freaking Beck Family Apocalypse landing in his lap at the same time. He loved her, but he couldn’t work hard at being what she needed, deal with her particular brand of emotional crazy, and juggle this crisis too—

Loved her?

Fuck his life, no. He was not in love with her because she was so far from that with him, and being in over his head was a long way from letting her have all of him, whether she wanted it or not.

And she didn’t want that from him. He knew it.

He stared at the screen, everything falling apart around him.

Chapter Nine

Savannah half-dozed on the couch, an adventure movie she’d seen a dozen times droning in the background. A car engine sounded outside, followed by a more recognizable pickup. Doors slammed, and low voices carried from the walkway outside. She blinked, her awareness fuzzy and disconnected. Emmett’s familiar murmur caught her attention, and she sat up, pushing tangled hair away from her face.

His door opened and closed with a quiet thud.

She lifted her phone and squinted at the time. A little before ten. No text messages from him. He was home, he hadn’t contacted her, and that was completely okay.

Because if it wasn’t, that made her crazy and selfish and more involved than she wanted to be.

Besides, she didn’t want to give Amy the satisfaction of being right.

She reached for the remote and powered off the television. She’d get some milk, go to bed, and see him tomorrow.

His door squeaked open and closed once more. Beyond her own door, his voice sounded, low and stressed. Something in that tone made her heart hurt for him. With a long glance at the door, she walked to the small kitchen. She’d just pulled a tumbler from the cabinet when a sharp rap sounded at the front door. Her pulse quickened with a spurt of anticipation. She didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

When she swung the door open, he rested his forearm along the jamb. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She frowned. Mouth tight and his normally neat uniform wrinkled, he looked completely wrung out—tired, stressed, and generally miserable.

“I’m sorry about dinner and tonight and not texting.” He scrubbed a hand over his already disheveled hair.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her earlier irritation and bruised feelings evaporated under his distress. “Are you okay?”

“No. My mama and sister are here. My sister’s pregnant, and her husband hit her. My dad has gone off the rails again, and Clark’s not answering his phone. And then I realized earlier that…you don’t want to hear all this.” He smacked his palm against the doorframe. “Shit.”

The stress vibrated off him. He had to decompress before he self-destructed. She reached for his arm and tugged him forward. “Come on in. I was about to get some milk. Do you want anything? Some warm milk might help you calm down.”

A grimace flitted across his face. “I think I’ll pass.”

“How about some Johnnie Walker Swing?”

“Hell, yes.”

In the kitchen, she poured a couple of fingers and added a splash of water to open up the flavor. He stood in the short hallway, and when she turned, she caught his gaze darting over the details of her living room, not that there was much to see—rental furniture, no photos, no knickknacks because she’d didn’t plan to be here long.

Shit, he was in her apartment. She stilled, tumbler in hand, gaze on his face. She’d avoided this, scrupulously keeping their interactions either at his place or out and about. Sure, she’d taken him to Amy and Rob’s and planned to take him to her parents’ home, but that was
different
.

He was in her space, such as it was. Lost in concern for him, she’d blown right past the self-imposed boundary without realizing it. She sucked in a breath. Earlier she’d been hurt because he’d kept a boundary between her and his family, and now she was freaking out over a boundary crossed.

Damn, she hated being a hypocrite.

“Here.” She crossed to place the glass tumbler in his hand and kept her fingers wrapped around his a moment. His gaze met hers, his eyes shuttered and unhappy. His whole body radiated tension.

She couldn’t do anything about the source of that stress, but she could relieve some of the effects.

“Come on.” She took his arm and drew him toward her bedroom, which like his, lay right across the hall from the kitchen.

He lifted the glass and knocked back a swallow. “I need to be next door.”

“You need to calm down first or you’ll be useless to anyone.” She used the tone she trotted out with recalcitrant patients. The taut line of his jaw didn’t relax.

“I am calm.” He lifted the tumbler again. “Not calm would be tearing off to Tallahassee and killing Frank for putting his hands on Landra, except my mama would be upset if I went to prison.”

“Yeah? I’d be upset too.” She took the glass from his hand and set it on the nightstand. She reached for his polo hem and tugged the garment over his head. This close, every muscle in his body seemed to sing with tension, even through his thin undershirt. She’d bet the leg was killing him if he was keeping those tendons this tight. She dropped her hands to his belt.

He stayed her with one hand. “This isn’t a good idea.”

She stilled, eyes on his troubled face. “Do you trust me?”

If anything, his body went tighter. He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. “No.”

The breath whooshed from her lungs, and she barely escaped making a kicked-kitten sound with it. That curt monosyllable hurt in all its raw honesty.

She could retreat into the hurt, let him go tonight, or she could accept the damage she’d done, try to be what he needed in this moment.

She swallowed hard. “So you can take care of me, give me what I need, but I can’t do the same for you? Is that where we are?”

His brows dipped in a pained frown. “You can’t give me what I need right now.”

The bald statement hurt like crazy. On a shaky laugh, she let him go. “Okay.”

“Savannah, I can’t do this tonight.” His voice cracked with pressure. “I just can’t.”

Unable to get words past the tightness in her throat if her life depended on it, she nodded. Something must have shown in her face because he groaned, his body dipping at the knees.

“Savannah, don’t look at me like—” His phone blipped, and he snatched it from his pocket. His shoulders fell. “Clark’s here, outside.”

The lump in her throat wouldn’t give. He heaved a rough sigh. “I’m gonna go talk to him. We’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow and maybe we can sort this out then.”

He grabbed his polo and walked down the hall. Moments later, the door closed behind him, leaving her alone with her isolation.

* * * * *

“So let me get this straight.” Clark sat back on his heels, sponge in his gloved hand. “You left a half-finished glass of Johnnie Walker and a willing woman next door, and you’re in here scrubbing the bathroom with me.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re an idiot.” Shaking his head, Clark scrubbed under the toilet rim again.

“I know.” Emmett pulled the squeegee down the already spotless shower wall. “Except I’m not. Anything we did was only going to make things messier than they already are.”

“But you’ve been fooling around with her for days.”

“That was before.” He really needed some time with the punching bag, but he needed to unload his confused feelings too. Clark normally had no problem kicking back with a beer while Emmett worked over the bag and talked, but the patio was too close to Savannah’s and he desperately needed the privacy. His mama had headed out to Perry for real and Landra dozed on the couch, but this way he felt like he could talk without fear of being overheard.

Besides, it wasn’t like he and Clark hadn’t cleaned bathrooms together before. Half their punishments for church-related transgressions had involved scrubbing bathrooms. The men’s room had sparkled during their entire term in youth group.

“Before what?” Swapping the sponge for a brush, Clark worked on the grout surrounding the toilet.

Emmett sat on the edge of the tub. “I think I love her.”

“Shit.” Clark dropped the brush and sat against the opposite wall. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“People use that word too soon and too often.” Clark rested his wrists atop his knees. “You’ve known her like a month. What do you think you love?”

“She’s smart and independent. Family’s important to her, she’s loyal, and she works hard, helping people.” Frowning, he ticked the points off on his fingers. “She’s sarcastic and funny, and when she’s not running me in emotional circles, she’s a hell of a lot of fun to be with.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re a goner.”

“Yeah, I know.” Emmett’s shoulders slumped under the weight. “And she does not feel the same way about me.”

“Sucks to be you.” Clark pointed at him. “You know, your life would be a lot easier if you’d just decide to be gay for me. We’d make a great couple and your ass is cute as hell.”

Emmett snorted on an unwilling laugh at the old joke. They’d been having this talk since youth group too. “I’m not going gay for you.”

“Damn it.” Clark winked, then sobered. “This is so not like you.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the L-word about a woman before. No, I’m
certain
I’ve never heard you use it before.” Clark scratched his eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”

“Hell if I know.” He gestured toward the door. “Take care of Landra. Try to convince Mama not to take my dad back when he comes crawling home to her because you know he’ll do it again.”

“Where are you in that equation?”

“God, you sound like Troy Lee, asking that.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. It’s not a math problem I can just solve for
y
. She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want to love me. Hell, she doesn’t even want to want me. There’s this huge wall, and I don’t know what it is or how to get around it. You should have seen her face when she realized I was in her apartment tonight. I thought she was going to pass out.”