On Thin Ice (The Baltimore Banners Book 8) (15 page)

Chapter Eighteen

"No. No, no, and no." Lauren fisted her hands, nearly snapping the pen she was holding. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her temper.

Trying not to lunge over the desk and go after her brother.

Dale and Rick stood in her office, their large bodies taking up too much room in the small space. It didn't help that she was sitting while they stood, towering over her, making her feel small. Dale leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his face completely blank. Only his eyes betrayed any emotion, the dark brown flashing with impatience, with anger.

At least Rick got partial credit for looking a little more understanding. Or maybe just curious. And only partial credit because behind his curiosity, she could see his disbelief. He hadn't said anything yet, though, and Lauren wondered if he was just waiting to hear her side—or if he realized it was safer for him to stay quiet.

She slid her chair out and stood halfway, leaning forward to rest her palms against the cluttered surface of her desk. She narrowed her eyes and fixed Dale with a look that conveyed every bit of her own anger and irritation.

"We are not discussing this. Not here. Not now. Not later. It doesn't even concern you."

"Don't tell me it doesn't concern me! You're my damn sister, it sure as hell concerns me."

"So is Lindsay but I don't see you worrying about her!"

Anger flashed in Dale's eyes, hot and piercing. The muscle in his jaw ticked several times as he held her gaze, refusing to back down. He finally looked away but only long enough to glance at Rick. Something passed between, some silent communication. She didn't need to hear it to know he'd just asked Rick to leave.

Dale closed the door behind him, the click too loud in the shrinking room. He stepped closer to her desk and leaned on it, his face only inches from hers. His voice was too quiet, almost lethal. "I stopped worrying about Lindsay almost two years ago when she stormed out and hurt Mom and Dad."

Lauren stepped away from the desk, trying to put distance between them—trying to distance herself from Dale's words. She lowered herself to the chair, her hands curled loosely against her legs, her eyes focused on a spot behind Dale. She had no idea how to respond, no idea what to say. Her silence must have frustrated him because he straightened with a loud sigh and ran his hands along his face.

"That was two years ago, Dale. You shouldn't judge her—"

"Judge her? Christ, Lauren, listen to yourself! She hasn't changed. If anything, she's gotten worse. How can you sit there and keep defending her?"

"I'm not defending her!"

"What the hell do you call it? You keep making excuses for her, keep acting like she's changed. Yeah, she's changed, alright. And it hasn't been for the better."

"How can you stand there and say that? She's our sister!"

"Because it's the truth!" Dale threw his hands in the air, looking like he wanted to hit something in frustration. "I don't get it. You're usually so reasonable, so level-headed. But when it comes to Lindsay, it's like you've got blinders on or something. You refuse to see her for what she really is."

"That's not true." But even as the words left her mouth, Lauren knew they were a lie. She didn't want to see the person Lindsay had become, didn't want to acknowledge that she no longer knew who her sister was. If she did, it would be like acknowledging that her sister was really gone. Acknowledging that she didn't like the person her sister had become.

Acknowledging that she'd given up hope.

She couldn't do that. She refused to do that. But God, it was getting harder and harder not to do just that very thing. Dale didn't see it that way. He was too cynical and entirely too capable of sealing his emotions away, of burying them so far below the surface that they didn't matter. Was it because of his job as a firefighter? Probably. She knew he dealt with things on a daily basis that forced him to do that. If he didn't bury his emotions, if he let everything get to him, she doubted he'd still be in the fire department. She understood that, she really did. But this was his family they were talking about, his own sister. It shouldn't be so easy for him to just shut himself off from his own family.

And maybe it wasn't. Maybe his anger was a sign of that. Maybe his frustration was because he couldn't really shut himself off when he wanted to.

And maybe she was just so deeply entrenched in seeing what she wanted to see that she was reading into things.

"Lauren, you're not helping her by keeping your eyes closed. Nobody can help her until she's ready to help herself."

"You make it sound like's some kind of…of addict or something. She's not."

"Maybe, maybe not. But she's hell-bent on destroying herself and she's willing to take down everybody else with her."

"She's still young—"

"Lauren, she's twenty-one. An adult. What was I doing at that age? What were you doing at her age? You have to stop making excuses for her."

"I'm not."

"Really? What do you call it?"

Lauren pursed her lips and looked away, no longer able to meet Dale's furious gaze. She didn't have an answer for him, didn't know what to say—because he was right. She had been making excuses for Lindsay, ever since she moved in. Even as recent as this morning.

Dale blew out a deep breath, some of the tension leaving him as he sat on the edge of her desk. His eyes softened, filled with worry instead of frustration. "Lauren, you have to stop it. You have to let it go before she ends up destroying you, too."

"I know." She dropped her head into her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing the strands back until she could clasp her fingers behind her head. "I know. I just…I keep hoping, thinking that maybe…"

She let her voice drift off, unable to finish, unable to find the right words because there weren't any. Dale was right. She knew he was right. But part of her didn't want to admit that, didn't want to give up. Because what if she gave up when all Lindsay needed was just one more chance? One more push, one more encouraging word to turn things around? If Lauren didn't give her that, who would? Not Dale. Not her parents. Certainly none of Lindsay's friends, whoever they might be.

"So tell me what happened this morning."

"Why? Sounds like you already know." Lauren didn't bother hiding the impatience and irritation in her voice. That was just one more thing she didn't want to face: the fact that Kenny had gone running to her brother, telling him about this morning's drama. It hadn't been his place; he'd had no right.

"Lose the attitude."

"No, I won't. I don't feel like dealing with that on top of everything else."

"Dealing with what?" Dale's voice turned sharp again, unsympathetic.

"With Haskell, running to you like a little tattletale."

"Get over it, Lauren. He didn't go running to me. I ran into him when I had that meeting at the rink and he thought I was there because of you."

"That didn't give him the right to say anything."

"Oh, bullshit. You guys are obviously together. I'd say he has every right to be worried."

"We're not together."

"Oh yeah? Then what the hell was he doing at your place at seven in the morning? Dropping off the morning paper?" No way was she answering that one, not when Dale was studying her so closely. He knew it, too, because he didn't push. "So what happened?"

What happened? Lauren was still trying to figure that out, still trying to wrap her head around everything Lindsay had said and done. She took a deep breath and finally shrugged. "I'm not sure. She came home with her usual attitude, bitching and complaining. And when I asked her where she'd been, she told me—" Lauren stopped, not willing to tell Dale everything Lauren had said, the harsh lies and biting words meant to deliberately hurt. "She lied. I don't know why."

"Did she really say she'd been with Haskell?"

Lauren cut her gaze to Dale, saw his eyes narrowing as he watched her, his dark eyes completely focused on her face, on her expression. She looked away. "Yeah."

"Then called you a bitch?"

"Yeah." The admission was barely loud enough to be considered a whisper. Lauren didn't even know why she bothered to answer, because it was obvious Dale already knew.

"And you didn't toss her ass out?"

"No, I didn't."

"Christ Lauren! What's it going to take? She steals your credit card, she steals your car—"

"She didn't steal it."

His eyes narrowed as he talked right over her. "Steals your car. Lies about sleeping with your boyfriend, calls you names. What the hell is wrong with you? I don't get it."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"
That's
your comeback? Seriously? I'm so pissed off, I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"Good, because I'm done talking."

Dale pushed away from the desk, each movement tight and controlled. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw and Lauren was positive he wanted to hit something, to scream and yell. But he just stood there, watching her, his face carefully blank. "You need to get your head out of the clouds, Lauren. And watch your back. I don't trust Lindsay, and neither should you."

He watched her for a few more minutes, his dark eyes filled with a seriousness that made her uncomfortable. She shifted in the chair, pulling her gaze away to study the numbers filling the computer screen. He blew out another breath, long and deep, then opened the door and walked out without another word.

Lauren leaned back in the chair, her body going limp after being held so rigid for the last hour. Her mind whirled, filled with thoughts and emotions she didn't want to study, didn't want to acknowledge.

Because Dale was right and Lauren didn't want to admit it. And if she was forced to be honest—with him, with herself—she'd admit that she didn't trust Lindsay, either. The little sister she remembered growing up was gone, replaced by someone who was bitter, resentful. She didn't know the person her sister had become, didn't want to know her.

Which only filled her with shame and guilt. How could she say that about her sister? What if Lindsay just needed time? Needed someone to believe in her? Lauren was so afraid that if she gave up on Lindsay, Lindsay would truly give up on herself. And she couldn't live with herself if that happened, knowing that if she had just stuck it out, her sister might get her act together.

Deep down, Lauren knew that life didn't work that way. In the sane, rational part of her mind, she knew she wasn't responsible for Lindsay and that she couldn't help her sister if she didn't want it. But logic and emotion didn't always go together, and this was a perfect example of one of those times.

So what if she didn't completely trust Lindsay? That didn't mean she couldn't be there for her.

Chapter Nineteen

Kenny stopped for the light, his eyes cutting over to his passenger. Her face was in profile, shrouded mostly in shadow except for the slice of light coming from the streetlamp on the corner. The light accented her high cheekbones, making them look sharper, more defined in the curve of her cheek. He must have been staring too long because Lauren turned her head, her lips barely lifting in smile that looked too forced.

"The light's green."

Kenny pulled his gaze away from her, turning his attention to the nighttime traffic. It was late enough that traffic was lighter, allowing him to divide his attention between the road and the woman sitting next to him. He was definitely more interested in the woman. How could he not be? She was smart, funny, sexy as hell, and into hockey. What wasn't there to like?

Nothing—except for the fact that she was too quiet tonight. She seemed preoccupied, her mind elsewhere. At least, Kenny hoped that was the reason she seemed so distant. He'd asked her twice already; he didn't want to push it and ask a third time, especially when he had a good idea why.

The restaurant he had picked for tonight's dinner was just ahead. Kenny slowed the car to turn into the parking lot then eased into an empty space. Lauren shifted, her hand already moving toward the door handle.

"No, wait." Kenny opened his own door and hurried around to the side, not missing the look of surprise on Lauren's face. He held his hand out to help her from the car, holding his breath until she actually took it.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes I did." He curled his fingers around hers, holding her hand in place when it felt like she was going to let go. He grinned, not missing the quick narrowing of her eyes. "I know you're more than capable of opening your own door. And a lot of other things, too. That doesn't mean I shouldn't do it for you whenever I have the chance."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely." He watched her, hoping for a smile or a laugh. Her lips curled up but the motion was too quick to be called a smile. She started walking, pulling him along without a word. Kenny stopped and tugged on her hand, pulling her back and turning her around. His arms came around her waist and he lowered his mouth to hers, claiming her lips in a soft kiss. Her body stiffened and Kenny almost stepped back in surprise, not understanding why she seemed so hesitant. Then her body finally relaxed against his and her mouth opened for him. He dipped his tongue inside, meeting hers in a slow dance that sent heat straight through him.

He tilted her head back and deepened the kiss, swallowing her small moan as she leaned into him. This is what he wanted, what he'd been waiting for since he left her house the other day. Only two days had passed. Two. He shouldn't be this tied up with need and want, shouldn't be so hungry for something as simple as a kiss. But he was. He didn't think he could ever have enough of Lauren's kisses. Slow, deep, warm. The way she clung to him when they kissed, the way her body molded so perfectly against his own. The tiny little sounds she made, almost like a kitten purring its happiness.

And if he wasn't careful, this kiss could quickly turn into something more.

Kenny pulled away, swallowing his own groan as he rested his forehead against hers. His breathing was just a little harsh, a little ragged. He grinned when he realized Lauren's breathing was an echo of his own. "I should have done that earlier, as soon as I picked you up tonight."

"Yeah?" A tiny grin lifted the corners of her mouth, a real grin, not a distracted one.

"Definitely."

"We may have had to go back upstairs to my place if you had."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Lauren laughed, her eyes sparkling in the reflection of the parking lot lights. She stepped away, tugging his hand as she moved toward the restaurant. "No, not a bad thing. Except I don't normally eat this late and I'm hungry."

"Why didn't you say something? We could have gone earlier, or done something different. I didn't—"

Lauren turned in his arms and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. "I'm fine. Stop worrying."

Spicy warmth greeted them as soon as they walked inside. Kenny inhaled deeply, his eyes closed as he breathed in the mixed scents of curry and cardamom and saffron. He heard Lauren laugh and opened his eyes in time to see her shrug out of her jacket, a small smile on her face.

"Was I being too obvious?"

"Not really. It smells really good. I would have done the same thing but I was too busy watching you."

"I hope that means you like Indian food."

"I haven't had it in a while but yes, I like it."

Kenny breathed a sigh of relief as the hostess led them back to a corner table set slightly apart from the others. He pulled the chair out for Lauren then sat across from her as the hostess placed their menus in front of them. A waiter quickly showed up to fill their water glasses and take their drink orders then left. Lauren reached for her menu, studying it with a small frown.

"This is my first time here but everyone I talked to said it's supposed to be pretty good."

"Hm?" Lauren peered at him from over the menu, that distracted look back in her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"I think I need to kiss you again."

"What?" Lauren lowered the menu, her brows pulled together in confusion. "Why?"

Kenny watched her for a minute in silence, studying her. The line of her jaw, the delicate bow of her upper lip, the sweep of her dark lashes as she blinked. He sat back in the chair and stretched his left leg out, his fingers playing with the stem of the water glass. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Lauren looked away, reaching for her own water glass and taking a sip. To avoid answering him or because she was thirsty? She took another sip then shook her head, her eyes not quite meeting his. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then why do you seem so distracted?"

"I'm not."

"Lauren, the only time you haven't been is when I kissed you in the parking lot. Honestly, I was kind of hoping that would be the one time that you
were
distracted." He'd said it as a joke, hoping to see her smile. She did, but not a full one, not a real one that lit her face.

"Trust me, I was."

"So what's wrong?"

"Really, it's nothing." She motioned to the side then smiled as the waiter approached their table with their drinks: a white wine for Lauren, a bottle of Kingfisher for Kenny. He took their orders and left again. Lauren fidgeted with her wineglass, the small frown back on her face. Should he ask her again, or just leave it alone? He searched his mind, looking for something else to say, something that might get her mind off whatever it was distracting her, when Lauren let out a little sigh and looked up at him.

"I'm not distracted. Not really. I'm just…" Her voice faded off and she looked away.

"Just what?"

She glanced at him, looked down at her wine, took a sip. "I'm just…I wish you wouldn't have said anything to Dale about Tuesday morning, that's all."

So that was what this was about. Kenny leaned back in the seat and took a long swallow of beer, not sure what to say. Her brother had obviously said something to her but he had no idea what. Had he given her shit about Kenny spending the night, about them being together? He'd been so worried that something had happened to her when he saw Dale at the rink that he hadn't even thought about possible repercussions.

He took another swallow of beer then rolled the bottle between his hands. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking that you wouldn't want him to know—well, you know. That I spent the night there." 

"That's not what I meant."

He looked over at her, frowning. "Then I think I'm lost."

"I was talking about my sister. Lindsay. You didn't have to tell him what happened."

Kenny's hand tightened around the bottle with the same force of his jaw clenching. Just hearing her name set his nerves on edge and twisted his gut. He put the bottle down, afraid it might actually break in his hand. The violent reaction, so swift and complete, surprised him. He shouldn't be reacting this way, shouldn't be consumed with anger at the memory of the other morning. But he was, whether it made sense or not. Looking over at Lauren, he knew he wasn't the only one upset.

And there was no doubt they were upset for totally different reasons.

Kenny took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making a concentrated effort to relax his hands. He swallowed, cleared throat, shifted in the chair. Took another deep breath and finally nodded.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to say anything."

"But you did. It wasn't your place." Lauren's words were clipped, her voice tight. She looked away but not before he saw the irritation flash in her eyes. It took Kenny all of two seconds to realize that Lauren was more than just distracted. She was upset. Angry. And he couldn't understand why.

"Did your brother tell you why I told him?"

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"So you just bring it up then suddenly want to let it go without hearing my side?"

"You don't have a side because it doesn't concern you."

"Actually, it concerns me a lot if she's going around telling people that we slept together. And who knows what else she might be saying? Might be accusing me of? Or anyone else, for that matter."

Lauren's head snapped around, her eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not
implying
anything. But did you stop to think about the repercussions this could have on me? On my career? I don't know what she's telling people. I don't know who she's telling or even why. But all it takes is one person to make an accusation, to say the wrong thing. That could be the end of everything I've worked for because you don't recover from accusations like that. Ever." Kenny's voice had gotten louder with each word, his anger bubbling to the surface. And he was surprised. Not just by the words, but by the realization that he'd even been thinking them, that the worry over what else Lauren's sister might be saying even existed. He hadn't given it any thought, hadn't even considered it. Not consciously, at least. But now that the words were out there, the sick realization scared him, souring his gut and twisting it into knots.

He reached for the beer bottle, studied it for a second, slammed it back down on the table.

"Lindsay would never do that."

"Really? I don't know that, do I? And I don't think you do, either. After all, she was pretty quick to lie to you and tell you I slept with her."

"So I guess that's why you ran to my brother, hm? So worried about yourself about something that would never happen."

"Actually, no. I was worried about you. I saw Dale at the rink and immediately thought something had happened to you. It was a stupid reaction. Trust me, I'll make sure it won't happen again."

Lauren opened her mouth to say something then immediately shut it when the waiter appeared with their food. It was just as well, Kenny thought. Judging from the scowl on her face, he didn't want to hear whatever she had been ready to say. He grabbed the bottle and took a long swallow of beer, eyeing the food being placed in front of them. The same distaste he suddenly felt was reflected on Lauren's face and he wondered if he should just ask the waiter to bring some boxes. There was no way he felt like eating now, not when his appetite had vanished the second Lauren brought up her sister's name.

So much for the nice date he had planned.

Silence settled between them, thick with tension and anger. He sipped from the bottle, watching Lauren through half-closed eyes. She looked as miserable as he felt. Tension tightened her features, creasing her forehead. Her lips were pressed together in a tight line, changing their color from a rosy pink to a pale, washed-out peach. Another long minute went by, awkward and oppressive. Lauren reached for the Naan bread, her movements short and clipped as she broke off a piece. She didn't eat it, just stared at it for a few seconds, her frown deepening.

"Dammit." She tossed the bread onto her plate and sat back, running both hands through her hair.

Kenny put the bottle down and slid his chair back. "I'll get the waiter, ask for the check—"

"No. Wait." She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his wrist, her fingers cold and pale against his skin. Kenny didn't move, just waited to see what she would say, wondering why she had stopped him.

Her tongue darted out, running across her lips as she looked down at her hand. The grip on his wrist tightened, just for a second, then she let go and dropped both hands into her lap. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I shouldn't have said anything. It's just…I guess Lindsay is a sore spot for me right now."

Kenny sat back in the chair, tension still gripping his shoulders. He wasn't sure what to say, how to respond. Did he want the night to end? Now, like this? No. But he didn't want the blanket of tension to hover over them all night, either. And now that he gave voice to his concerns, put them out there where they had to face them, he wasn't sure he could just act like it didn't matter.

Judging from the look on Lauren's face, he got the impression she felt the same way. So where did that leave them? Where did they go from here?