Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her Past\A Real Live Hero\In Her Corner (40 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T
RACE
HAD
EXPECTED
Delainey to give him an earful as soon as they climbed into the truck, but surprisingly she remained silent. He didn't know whether to be grateful or worried. But as they drove the distance to his house, his truck eating up the miles in the dark, he didn't care what the outcome—he wasn't sorry. “You probably ought to just keep your stuff here,” he said gruffly. “Because you and I both know this is where you're gonna be while you're here in Alaska.”

“What about my crew? What am I supposed to say to them?” she asked absently, as if the question was simply a formality because she really didn't care about the answer. “I thought you said you're tired of people talking about you and your business. Openly sleeping with me will only make that worse.”

“When it comes to you, I don't care. I don't understand a lot of what is happening between you and me, and I'm not even going to pretend to try. All I know is that if you're here, you're sleeping with me.”

Delainey didn't argue. The fact that she didn't put up much of a fuss gave him pause. Frankly, he'd expected a bigger argument from his staunchly independent woman. “Are you feeling okay?” he had to ask. “Because you're not acting like yourself.”

Her small smile confirmed that something was up. There was a wistful sadness clinging to her, and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with the little spat at the Rusty Anchor. His demeanor changed. He was no longer consumed with getting her to see things his way. He just wanted to be there for her. “What's going on? Did Thad say something to upset you?”

“No. Well, yes.” She seemed to struggle with the words until they finally tumbled out and she was helpless to stop them. “I've come to the realization that I'm a terrible person,” she said.

“What? No, you're not,” he quickly disagreed, not liking where she was going. “Who told you that?”

“No one needed to tell me. I came to the realization myself, and I can't hide from that fact anymore. Thad says I need to get my priorities straight, and he's right. I value all the wrong things. My father is dying in a hospital room, and I can't bring myself to sit there next to him. I can't hold his hand and pretend or forget what a terrible bastard he was when we were growing up. I
want
to be the bigger person and forgive, but I can't. Thad can, but I can't.”

“It doesn't make you a terrible person. It makes you an honest person.”

She shook her head in denial. “No, Trace. Don't you see? I have put so much value on all of the wrong things that I don't remember what it feels like to value the things that are true. I have an emptiness inside of me that I've been trying to fill with all the wrong things. But here's the worst part—even knowing this I know I can't change. I'm driven to succeed because everyone expected me to fail. I have sacrificed so much for that ambition, and what has it yielded me? Not a lot,” she answered before he could try. She barked a short, miserable laugh. “Trace, I would've made a terrible wife. You probably would've ended up hating me if I'd stayed, and I definitely would've hated myself.”

“You don't know that. You're taking a guess from the past about a future that never happened.” He drew a deep breath. He needed to get her off this track because the journey wasn't going to be a smooth ride if they kept traveling that way. “Let's table the heavy stuff for the night. We have an early call in the morning.”

“You're so sweet. I should've seen that a long time ago. I'm sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. We both made choices that in hindsight might not have been the best. Let's leave it at that.”

Delainey followed him into the house, seemingly complacent with his suggestion, but after she brushed her hair and readied for bed, she pulled away from him to roll onto her side.

“What's wrong?” he asked, perplexed that she would insist on the distance between them.

“I need some space.”

“That's the last thing you need,” he disagreed on a low growl. “You're punishing yourself as some kind of needless penance.”

“Trace, you've always been good at everything,” she started. “You don't know what it's like to struggle to be good at something so that other people will recognize your skill. I've been struggling my whole life for someone to notice me, and sometimes I just feel like giving up. But I won't. Even if I should.”

In spite of the fact that she wasn't facing him, Trace wrapped his arm around her belly and pulled her close. He nuzzled the back of her neck and kissed her softly. He hated the raw pain he heard in her voice. She was fighting demons he couldn't even imagine. “Tell me what you enjoy about your job. Help me to understand.”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't.”

She paused to reflect and then said, “I like being in charge of so many people at once and watching something materialize out of nothing. I like being able to turn on the television and see something I created for the enjoyment of others.
Vertical Blind
was the last major production that I produced. I liked that it wasn't a typical reality show but a drama about rock climbers. It was unique and different and exciting. I really thought it was going to shine. But it was expensive to shoot, and in the end the ratings didn't support the expense. We were axed after only four episodes. It was humiliating. But even though the show didn't make it, I was proud of the work. It was a good show.”

“Sounds like something I would enjoy, if I watched television,” he said. “So you had one failed show. It doesn't mean that you're no good at what you do. It just means that luck wasn't on your side.”

“Logically, I know that, but deep down it just reinforced that belief inside of me that I'm not good enough. That I'm a fraud pretending to be someone when in truth I'm really nobody.”

He wanted to shake her and make her see that she was somebody to him, but he didn't because he knew her insecurities had nothing to do with him and never had.

“Forgive me for playing into the stereotypes, but I would think that a place like Hollywood would reinforce those insecurities no matter how confident a person started off.”

“You're right. The town is filled with people looking to tear someone down just so they could stand on top of the fallen on their climb up. I guess I thought I would fit in better because I never really fit in here.”

Her admission was a shock to him. How could she have felt as if she didn't belong in her own hometown? “What do you mean?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I always felt like an outsider here. I could go through the motions, but I didn't feel as if I had anything in common with the people here. I don't like fish and I don't want anything to do with fish. The fact that my father is a fisherman makes me feel as if I'm betraying my roots in some way by admitting that. People who live and die by the sea cannot understand somebody who has no affinity for that lifestyle. I wanted to go somewhere warm, where I could wear my flip-flops year-round, and where when I put my feet in the ocean my toes don't freeze off. I wanted everything that Alaska wasn't.”

“So you found happiness.” He had a hard time saying the words because it hurt to know that there was no way she would ever find happiness with him in Alaska. “Don't apologize for what brings you joy.”

“I love that it was eighty degrees on Thanksgiving, and I love that I have more summer clothing in my closet than I ever did in my entire life in Alaska. But I don't like that I constantly look over my shoulder watching for the knife going into my back, and I hate that the men I meet are soft, posturing fools who have no idea what hard work truly is. Seriously, I stopped dating because if one more man touched me with those soft, manicured hands, I would throw up. Disgusting. I need a man with hands that are tough and roughed up from real work, not from tapping on a computer all day or texting.”

He shifted and tried not to growl as he said, “I get the point. Can we not talk about the men you've been dating? I know I can't expect you to be celibate, but I'd like to pretend that you are. Otherwise, I will have to start sharing some of my dating experiences, too.”

“Point taken,” she murmured with a mild shudder.

“You were saying...” he prompted her, and she rediscovered her original point.

“I guess all I'm trying to say is, there is a lot about the city that I don't like, but mostly what I hate is that you're not there with me.”

Trace spooned her in stunned silence, his mind stuttering on her statement. Had she just admitted that she missed and needed him? She turned in his arms and he felt her gaze in the darkness. “If I asked you to go to Los Angeles with me, would you?” she asked, the vulnerability in her tone slicing at him.

He desperately wanted to give her anything she wanted, but he wouldn't lie to her, not even to spare her feelings. “Los Angeles is no place for me. I would be lost in a place like that,” he said quietly. “My home is here and always has been. This is where I find my joy.”

And he realized it was true. Alaska, with its savage beauty, was stamped on his soul, and that would never change. “I would give you anything you ask, anything that was in my power to give, but I can't give you that.”

“How do you know if you've never been there?” she asked, almost desperately. “Wouldn't you be willing to give it a try for me?”

He felt like a jerk for denying her, but he could see the writing on the wall. “I need wide-open spaces, and the concrete jungle like Los Angeles would kill me. Or I'd end up killing someone else. We would end up tearing each other apart because I would be so desperate to leave and you would be desperate for me to stay.”

She didn't deny his reasoning. Perhaps she knew he was right. But her grip tightened on him and she buried her face against his chest. “So basically we're back to square one. I won't stay. You won't go.”

He held her close and closed his eyes. Yeah, back to square one. And square one sucked. “At least we have now. Let's not waste a single moment.” She nodded and he felt something wet drop on his chest. Her tears burned his heart and he wished he could have been the one to give her everything she needed and wanted. God, he'd never truly stopped loving Delainey, and he realized he probably never would.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T
RACE
HAD
JUST
finished his second day of shooting when Miranda showed up on the location in her Range Rover. Delainey and Miranda shared a smile as Miranda trudged past the crew toward him, and Trace was happy to see the two former best friends had begun to build a bridge to one another again. But he was curious as to why his sister would show up on location. “What's up, sis?” he asked, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I wish that it were. I know you said that you were going to do it, but I think we're running out of time and so I did it for you,” she answered gravely, and he knew immediately what she was talking about before she even explained. “I called Social Services and told them about Mom and Dad's situation. I hope you're not mad that I jumped the gun, but I'm afraid that if we wait any longer she's going to die in that house.”

Trace frowned, not because he was mad at his sister but because she was right. The production had eclipsed his life in more ways than one, and the situation with his parents had slipped his mind. He rubbed at his brows, sighing. “I'm sorry. I should've remembered to call. What did you say to them?”

“The truth. I told them I wanted to file a report of hoarding and illegal marijuana cultivation.”

Trace stared. “You told them about the pot? Why did you do that? You know Dad can go to jail for this.”

“I know but they're going to find out anyway and something has to give. We've been trying to get him to quit for years and he refuses. You said yourself that he's just being selfish. And I feel that we have to do what is right for Mom, seeing as he can't or won't.”

Trace pushed his hand through his hair, frustrated. “I understand that, but I really wish you wouldn't have mentioned the marijuana. The investigation is going to go from Social Services to police services. There's a big difference between the two, and I don't think you realize what that will entail for this family.”

“Trace, you agreed with me that this had to stop. You were supposed to make the call.” She glanced around, her gaze settling on the film crew before continuing. “Listen, I know that you're busy with this shoot, but our parents' lives are at stake.”

“I'm not disagreeing with you. I just wish you would've left the marijuana out of it. We could have let Dad know that they were coming and he could've—”

“Hidden his stash?” Miranda finished for him, growing angry. “Hiding the problem isn't going to fix it. If he needs to suffer the consequence of growing an illegal garden, then that's what needs to happen. He has to take some of his own advice. Remember when he used to tell us to face the music when we'd screwed up? Well, it's time for him to do exactly that.”

What could he say? Miranda was right, but having the police involved was going to complicate things far more than she realized. “Well, it's done now,” he said. “Don't be surprised when we get a call from jail because our father's been arrested on felony cultivation charges.”

“Maybe they'll just give him a warning,” she said hopefully. “I mean technically he's a first-time offender. I doubt they throw the book at people who have no prior criminal record.”

“Are you willing to leverage our father's future on that hope?”

“I guess I'll have to. Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Also, I think it's time for you to call Wade. Frankly, I don't think he'll listen to me. He thinks I'm being overly dramatic.”

“To be fair, so did I.” Trace had had no inkling that things were as bad as they were. It'd been hard to fathom, but now that he'd seen the truth of things, he wasn't about to let it slide and he knew his older brother would want to know. “But you're right. If it comes from me he'll probably take it more seriously.”

“I'll try not to be offended as long as you can get him here. I know the next step is going to be a doozy. Having all hands on deck is going to be necessary to make it through.”

“Wade has his own issues about coming home,” Trace reminded Miranda. Wade had dealt with Simone's death and their father's marijuana dealing by leaving the state and never returning. But Trace was confident that his older brother would come back if they really needed him. However, he also knew it wouldn't be easy. “It'll be a struggle to get him on the plane, but I'll do my best.”

Miranda smiled with relief and he realized he'd been putting too much on her shoulders these past two years. If Wade was guilty of running away from his problems, Trace had been equally at fault. “Listen, I'm sorry I overreacted to the news. You're right. Dad has to own up to what he's been doing. We've been tiptoeing around the situation for too long. I guess it's time for a Sinclair intervention.”

“Oh, goody. Can't wait. Should I bring popcorn?” Miranda asked wryly. “Hey, on a separate note, how are things going with you and Delainey?”

He did not want to answer that. He couldn't rightly say,
Well, we really enjoyed each other's company in the bedroom, but we really haven't worked out anything otherwise.
“It's complicated,” he finally said. Miranda laughed and he cast her a sharp look. “What? It's true. There are no easy answers and neither one of us has figured out anything, so I guess it's status quo.”

“I'd hardly say it's status quo,” Miranda said with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Before she came back no one could even mention her name without you snapping like a wounded bear. And now you're practically dating again. Oh, don't give me that look. You know word spreads really fast in this town. You can't hang out at the Rusty Anchor dancing and acting all snuggly without people watching and catching on. No judgment on my part, I think it's great, but I'm just saying people have noticed.”

“When will people stop being interested in our business?” he growled. “Yeah, well, it's still complicated.”

Miranda laughed. “Jeremiah and I had a complicated relationship, too. And now look at us. Happy as two bugs in a rug.”

“Don't start buying towel sets for us yet. She's going back to L.A. and I'm staying here. Essentially nothing is going to change,” he said, his mood rapidly souring. He hated being faced with the reality of his situation with Delainey because he hated how he knew it was going to end. He didn't want to talk about Delainey anymore and steered the conversation back to their parents. “So when do we expect all hell to break loose?”

“Well, I made the report today and they probably won't send anyone out there until the end of the week, so probably Friday or Monday at the latest.” She gestured meaningfully to his cell phone hanging from his hip. “Take the ringer off Silent. I'll definitely need backup when it happens.”

“All right,” he agreed. Delainey started walking toward them and Miranda took that as a cue to leave.

Delainey frowned as Miranda drove away. “Where'd she go? I was about to invite her to dinner. I was thinking of taking the crew over to Harpies for burgers and fries. I thought maybe she could join us. I haven't had a chance to meet her new guy, Jeremiah. Her son, Talen, is adorable though. It must be fun having a nephew.”

“He's a great kid. I don't get to see him that much though because of my schedule. I always try to take him out for a little man-to-man time when I'm home, but like I said, my schedule wasn't very accommodating until now. In fact, this is the longest stint I've been home in years. Usually, I'm gone for months at a stretch on assignment or training.”

“That's too bad. I'll bet he loves playing with his Uncle Trace. You're probably the coolest uncle a kid could ever ask for,” she said, giving him a little wink. He didn't want to let on how much her praise affected him, but his cheeks may have pinked because suddenly she smoothed her fingers over them and grinned. “Can you get any cuter? I love it.”

He watched as she returned to her crew as they packed up the location, and he withheld a sigh. Things were about to get ugly in the Sinclair world just as Delainey's life was about to fall apart.

If he thought things were complicated before...he had a feeling they were about to get screwed in the near future.

* * *

T
RACE
DIDN
'
T
SAY
ANYTHING
but Delainey could tell that he was preoccupied. After burgers and fries at Harpies, the crew dispersed for the night, leaving Delainey and Trace behind. She no longer cared if people saw them hanging out. Somehow it didn't seem to matter anymore. It was no one's business how she and Trace spent their time, and that was that.

Trace had barely touched his fries and had only eaten half of his burger, which told Delainey that something was really bothering him because Trace loved his food. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess?” she asked. Trace looked up and smiled, caught. “Out with it, Sinclair. I know when something's on your mind.”

“It's my parents. Miranda called Social Services and she also alerted the police to my father's
garden.
” He sighed and dropped the French fry he'd been pushing around his plate. “It's not going to end well.”

“Do you think they're going to arrest your dad?” she asked, worried. Her first thought went to the production. Reporters would find something like this and delight in splashing the news all over the media. The old adage “There is no such thing as bad publicity” wasn't always true. And she wasn't willing to take any chances. “What did she tell them? Do you know anyone over at the police department who could pull some strings?”

He looked at her sharply. “For what purpose? My father is breaking the law. There's nothing any of my connections can do about that. Besides, I'm more concerned about my mom. And if it takes my dad getting busted for his marijuana, then so be it.”

Delainey knew she needed to tread carefully and so phrased her next comment with caution. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “Your dad needs to stop doing what he's doing, and, of course, your mom's safety is paramount. But it's not a good idea to have a police investigation going on when we're trying to put together this pilot. We really can't take any bad publicity hits. It could damage the production. If there's anything you can do to lessen the impact, then I think you should do that.”

He stared hard, and she tried not to fidget. He was mad but she had to do what she could to protect the production. “Delainey,” he warned, “do not tell me that you are more concerned about the production than the safety of my mother.”

“Of course not,” she rushed to say. “I want your mom to be safe, and I agree she is in a bad situation. But maybe we could work together to help your mom instead of bringing in the police. That's all I'm saying.”

“And what do you propose to do? She won't listen to her own children. What makes you think she's going to listen to you?”

“I don't know that she'll listen to me either, but I have resources that you might not have. Maybe I could have a professional organizer come in and help her—”

“Miranda already tried that and my mom kicked her off the property. Next idea?”

“We could have a professional cleaning crew come in—” Trace shook his head at her suggestion, and she bit her lip with true consternation. She didn't have the answers but she had to avoid bad publicity at all costs. Panic colored her voice as she said, “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to think of a solution that will help us both. I know it's coming off as if I only care about the production, but that's not the case. I do have to think of it, though.”

“Damn it, Delainey,” he said, anger rippling from his tone. “This is a new low. Don't try to sell me that you're trying to protect my parents when in fact your only concern is the production. Remember when you said that you value the wrong things and that your priorities were screwed up—well, this is a great example. The production should take a backseat to what is happening in my parents' personal life, what is happening in my personal life and for that matter what is actually happening in your own personal life. The fact that you're sitting here eating a burger, chatting with friends and joking with your crew when your dad is dying is further proof that you don't have your shit straight.” He stood abruptly and his chair toppled to the ground. He jerked it upright, pulled a few bucks from his wallet and tossed the money to the table before muttering, “I need some air,” and leaving.

“Trace—” She tried calling after him, but she knew better and stopped. She'd screwed up. She shouldn't have brought the production into the conversation and should've found a way around it herself. Why was she always caught between two impossible situations? She just wanted everything to work for once in her life.

She dropped her head into her hands and fought the tears. She felt sick inside. Seeing the judgment in Trace's eyes hurt, and she hated that he was right. Once again, she'd shown in vivid color that her priorities were screwed up. How was she supposed to fix that, without sacrificing everything that she'd ever worked for? It didn't seem fair. Why was she the one always asked to sacrifice? Well, one thing was for sure—the answers weren't going to be found here at Harpies.

She covered the rest of the bill and let herself out, but when she didn't see Trace anywhere, she didn't know what to do. They both came in his truck and she couldn't very well leave him without transportation. She stomped her foot in frustration. “Damn you, Trace.” She fished her cell phone from her purse and dialed Miranda. “Can you come pick me up?” she asked, embarrassed. “I'm at Harpies. I'm fine, but I don't know where Trace is. We had a fight and he took off, but I don't want to take his truck and leave him without a ride.”