Draw Me Close (6 page)

Lindsey narrowed her eyes, but gave a half smile before speaking. “Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You don't want to take Claire down the hill, do you?”

Anne sighed. “No. You know I don't love heights and I'm not quite comfortable letting Claire go by herself yet.”

Lindsey considered it. It wasn't that she minded sledding but she didn't necessarily love heights, either. But how bad could it be? “Okay, that could be fun. Do you have some accessories I could borrow? I left my sledding gear at home.”

Anne winked and stood up from the kitchen chair. “You're the best. I'll go get everything ready.”

“I'm betting it already is if I know you,” Lindsey called over her shoulder.

Twenty minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of the elementary school at the edge of town. Lindsey didn't live in Preston—never had—but even she'd heard about the Hill. The town had cleverly named the long stretch of sloping grass that lined the elementary school property. People from surrounding small towns and even in the Kansas City suburbs drove out just to sled when it snowed, it was that impressive. And now that Lindsey was really looking at it, it was a little steep. A little tall. But she could handle it. Had to because at this point Claire was bouncing beneath her seat belt and there was no way she could let the little girl down.

Anne pulled into a parking spot and Claire squealed as she saw a couple of her school friends wave as they headed for the bustling sledding area. “Hurry, Mom. My friends are here.”

“Claire, please quiet down. We'll get up there as soon as we can, no rush.”

“It's busy today,” Lindsey said as she got out of the car and shoved a red knitted cap over her thick hair. “Guess that's not a surprise since it might be the last big snow.”

Lindsey adjusted the scarf Anne had loaned her, pulled on her gloves, and then helped unload everything else from the car. Claire, the sled, a thermos of cocoa, a bag of cups and extra snow gear. Anne was always prepared, and Lindsey smiled as she spotted the homemade marshmallows in a plastic bag. Only Anne.

“Okay, how about if you guys head up and I'll wait for you at the bottom?” Anne said.

“Come on, Lindsey,” Claire yelled as she began to take off.

“Hey, little lady, you wait up. I can't run in these boots.”

Lindsey tucked the big toboggan-style plastic sled under her arm and followed Claire through the snowy field and then up the incline. It wasn't long before she thought she might die, as the trek upward started to feel like climbing a mountain. With the wind blowing in her face, the cold biting at her nose, and the sun blinding her, she was exhausted by the time they made it to the top.

“Hang on, Bug. I need to … take … take a break,” Lindsey said, stepping over to the side and dropping the sled in the snow. Several groups of teenagers pushed by, laughing and roughhousing. Lindsey blew out a long breath and loosened her scarf. Funny how her cheeks were frozen but she was pretty darn sure that sweat was pooling beneath her clothing. She needed to join a gym. Fast.

“Hi, Mr. Derek,” Claire called from behind Lindsey. “Hi, Tanner.”

Lindsey stilled. As if her heart weren't already working overtime. She didn't want to turn around but had little choice. And there he was, the object of her ire. He looked just as shocked to see her. Even a little panicked. He quickly looked her over and then stepped closer.

“You okay, Linds?” Derek asked.

Lindsey shifted her boots in the snow in order to face them. His deep voice held a hint of concern.

“I'm fine,” she said, retying her scarf and hating how short of breath she was. “Just not used to climbing hills.”

“Understandable.” Derek gave her a halfhearted smile, and although Lindsey couldn't see through his sunglasses, she could imagine his bright blue eyes staring back at her. He was in jeans, a puffy navy coat, gloves, and a bright orange knitted cap that appeared to be made for hunters. He looked ridiculous. And adorable. She suddenly felt like an abominable snowman in the coat she had on.

Lindsey's eyes flicked to the young boy standing beside Derek, her heart doing a flip in her chest. She looked back at Derek and he noticeably swallowed.

“Lindsey, this is my son, Tanner,” he said.

The boy gave a shy smile and just like that Lindsey felt dizzy. This boy was … older than she expected. Courtesy of Callie, she'd known Derek had a son, known he'd been married and was now divorced. Her brain quickly tried to process how old he appeared to be. Definitely older than five as he was fairly tall. But certainly not a teen.

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at Derek. The confidence she'd grown to expect from him was wiped clean from his face. For once Derek looked nervous. Incredibly so.

Laying an arm across his son's back, he pulled him in close and then cleared his throat before continuing. “Tanner, this is Lindsey. An old friend of mine.”

“It's nice to meet you, Tanner.” Lindsey focused on the handsome little boy staring up at her. He had Derek's blue eyes, full lips, and a mop of dark blond hair on his head that peeked from under his knit Spiderman cap. He looked so much like his dad it made her heart ache.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said in a little-man voice.

“You couldn't drag your mom up here, Claire?” Derek teased, clearly trying to change the subject.

“She's scared of being high up,” Claire said.

Lindsey tuned out of the conversation between Derek and Claire for a moment, instead turning her focus on Derek's son who stood quietly near his dad. Tanner was nearly a foot taller than Claire. Definitely older than Claire's six. So Tanner had to be at least seven.
Or eight.
Lindsey suddenly felt sick to her stomach because so many things began to make sense.

I'm still in love with someone else. This shouldn't have happened.
She'd never forget his words for as long as she lived. They had ripped her in two.

“So, you ready to go down?” Derek asked.

Lindsey jerked her head up to catch him staring at her. There was no missing the tight line of his lips. He knew exactly what she'd been thinking. This was obviously what he'd wanted to explain to her. Silly her. Derek hadn't wanted something to spark up again between the two of them. He'd just wanted to ease the burden of his guilt. Probably wanted to explain it before she had a chance to figure it out on her own.

But why bother, really? Their past was just that. The past. Whatever his reasons for leaving her, it was no longer her problem. She had a plan to keep her distance while they worked on the farmhouse project, and if she stayed strong she would be fine. Just fine. She was always fine. She'd been fine for years. Fine. Fine. Fine.

Don't cry, Lindsey.

“Of course we're ready. Come on, Claire.” Picking up their sled, Lindsey walked toward the line of people waiting their turn. Claire stood beside her, peeking around the milling bodies, watching people descend.

Lindsey knew Derek and his son stood behind them, but she didn't dare turn around. She knew it was rude, she'd just been introduced to the boy, but she could not look at them anymore. It was bad enough hearing their conversation behind her.

“Dude, was that your stomach growling?” Derek asked in an amused tone.

The mini-Derek laughed. A full-out little-boy giggle. Lindsey clamped her eyes shut. Why was it always her listening in on the laughter of other families? Never part of it. Never for her.

“We'll go get some pizza after we leave here,” Derek told his son.

Finally they were up and Lindsey looked down the hill with a twinge of unease. It was much steeper than it appeared from the base. And higher. She let her eyes roam until she made out Anne's red coat in the distance. She looked pretty darn small way down there, and now it was apparent why she'd chosen to stay at the bottom. Lindsey swallowed.

Behind her Derek spoke quietly. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said without turning. “Ready, Bug?”

“Uhhh.” Great. Claire was scared also. Was a fear of heights genetic? Either way, neither of them were running in fear. Of the man behind them or the drop ahead.

Lindsey bent over and dropped the sled in front of them. “We can do it, Claire. It's gonna be so much fun.”

Debating the best way to gracefully plop down on the sled, Lindsey straddled the purple plastic. When it began to slide, a big booted foot came out to stop it.

“I got it. Sit down,” Derek said. She chose not to give him the satisfaction of looking up into his eyes. Instead she leaned down, rested one glove in the snow and eased herself into the back of the plastic. Her butt instantly froze. She adjusted her legs and patted the space between them.

“Okay, sweetie. Climb in,” she said to Claire.

Claire hesitated. She glanced from Lindsey down to where her mother waited. She was at the bottom of the run waving her encouragement.

“I'm scared,” Claire whispered, her glove making a scratching noise as it brushed Lindsey's shoulder.

“It's okay, Claire. It will be fun. Promise.” Lindsey couldn't very well admit to the six-year-old that she was a little intimidated, too. She patted the space between her legs again, sensing the restlessness of the line growing behind them. “Your mom will love watching you. And the sooner we get down there the faster you can have some of that hot cocoa.”

Claire paused, glanced over Lindsey's head, presumably at Derek and Tanner.

“I promise you'll love it, Claire,” Derek said. “How about I take a video of you on my phone and we can send it to Mike? He'll be so proud of you.”

Lindsey's insides twisted at the paternal way Derek spoke to Claire. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Derek was a wonderful father. And his idea to film it for Mike was good. Claire adored Mike and would be thrilled to send him the video.

Claire grinned. “Yes, please.”

But of course now Derek was going to do the honors, meaning he would have footage of her, Lindsey, in this ginormous Michelin-man ski jacket she'd borrowed from Anne. Oh well, she'd have to suck it up. Claire climbed in and snuggled between Lindsey's bent legs. No going back now.

“Okay, hold on,” Derek said. Lindsey could feel the toe of his boot resting against her backside. “Ready, ladies?”

“Ready,” Claire called.

Lindsey felt Derek's foot shove the back of the sled and she instinctively gripped the little person in front of her as they flew down the hill. Through the piercing cry that broke free from Claire's mouth Lindsey briefly registered the rumble of Derek's laugh. But it didn't last as they sailed down, Claire's screams turning into giggles. Lindsey felt the snow bump under her rear, at some point they seemed to catch air, and then all too quickly they were coasting along the flat base of the hill. Lindsey put her legs out to the side to stop them—frigid snow rushing up her pant legs. As soon as she was able Claire rocketed out of her seat, running to Anne, laughing and screaming.

Lindsey realized she'd been grinning like an idiot the whole way down. She stood up and turned to look up to the top of the hill. She found Derek quickly with that atrocious hat on, even though many bodies dotted the area in front of the trees. He gave her a small wave before he and Tanner sat down on their own sleds.

Lindsey's smile vanished, the reality of what had just transpired finally sinking in. He truly hadn't been in love with her. All that time he'd been with someone else and that someone had given birth to his child. This handsome little boy. None of it had been what she'd thought it was. Those feelings she was certain he'd revealed in his touch, his kiss, his looks … clearly she'd dreamed them up.

The only time wasted was all the years you weren't mine.

What did all of this mean? Had he made a mistake? Well, regret was a hard pill to swallow and it was too little too late with her. Not that he'd implied he wanted anything more than for her to understand. She was clearly a piece of his guilty conscience because he'd made her fall in love with him. And then he'd abandoned her.

Well, she'd just have to convince him that she was in no need of his apology or pity. These days she decided what happened to her and she was determined to be stronger. She'd done her fair share of being a pushover. Sometimes out of love like with her father. But sometimes out of fear, which she couldn't allow to happen. No longer.

She would use Derek's return into her sphere to mark the beginning of a new Lindsey. She knew if she didn't learn to stand up for herself, Derek Walsh had the power to destroy her heart all over again.

 

Four

She knew.

He'd seen it in her eyes, the way she'd glanced between Tanner and Claire, trying to assess his age, work out the time line. Obviously Derek had planned to tell her when the time was right, and this had most definitely not been that time.

He'd wanted the right setting, the perfect lead-in. Wasn't gonna happen.

Damn it.

He should have just said it the last time he'd seen her. To hell with her not being ready. He'd never dreamed they would run into Lindsey at the Hill. She didn't even live in Preston. Although Derek couldn't deny that a tiny part of him was relieved, okay, maybe a big part. Now maybe they could finally have the conversation that needed to be had. Say the things that should have been said years ago. He hoped that he could finally make Lindsey see why things had happened the way they did. Surely she would give him that now. But if he were to be honest, he was still a little fearful she wouldn't be willing.

He couldn't accept that. He would beg her to hear him out if he had to. He wanted Lindsey's forgiveness. Wanted them to move past what had happened.

From a distance Derek watched as Lindsey trudged up the hill once more, Claire yapping along beside her. Lindsey looked exhausted, her legs dragging and her shoulders slumped. This was trip six up the hill for them. Actually eight for Claire. She and another little girl had gone together a few times and Lindsey had waited for Claire at the top. Not that he'd kept tabs on her the whole time. Okay, he'd definitely been watching her all morning. Couldn't help himself.