The Street Where She Lives

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HER NEXT FREE Saturday morning, Melanie drove back to South Village. She told herself she was entitled to two days away, that she wanted to see for herself how Rachel was doing and wanted to hang out with Emily. Girl time, she told herself. She needed family girl time.

Lies.

She wanted to see if Garrett glanced at her. It was a matter of pride now, as she hated how much she thought about him. She had no idea why it had been over between them New Year’s Eve before she’d even gotten her panties back on.

Maybe she just needed sex.

She needed sex.

Her sister did not. She never had. In fact, it seemed bitterly unfair that it was possible Rachel, her almost virginal sister, was getting it on with one of the sexiest men alive, while Mel churned and burned.

Garrett wasn’t out front when she parked. Fine. Good. She didn’t need to see him anyway.

She let herself in Rachel’s house.

Given the tense silence she found between Rachel and Ben when she entered the kitchen, she figured they couldn’t have done it yet. Not with her sister acting as tightly self-controlled as ever. God forbid she allow anything as mundane as lust to shatter that control.

Or had she?

Melanie took a good hard second look and found herself dumbstruck. Appeared that the reason for the so-thick-she-could-cut-it tension in the room most positively wasn’t temper after all.

Yes, Rachel had two high spots of color on her cheeks, but she wasn’t meeting anyone’s eye. A sure sign of guilt if anything, and Mel should know. Furthermore, her sister’s blouse wasn’t tucked in, a huge fashion no-no in Rachel’s book-and the bandanna on her head looked slightly askance, revealing short, spiky strands of blond hair going in every direction.

Hmm.

Ben himself was no better off. His shirt hung open, though he’d hastily buttoned it when Melanie had entered. His hair had either been attacked by migrating birds or a set of hungry fingers.

Double hmm. “Don’t tell me you two have forgotten how badly things turned out last time,” she said into the silence.

Rachel closed her eyes. “Melanie.”

“Well, they did! You guys were over the moon about each other.” She pointed to Ben. “But when she said go, you did. And you…” She looked at Rachel. “You let him. Hello, people…what does that tell you? That you aren’t meant to be, okay? I mean, why be stupid enough to try again? Especially when you’re only together due to a madman on the loose.”

A muscle in Ben’s jaw ticked, which was really sexy as hell, damn him. “You told her,” he said to Rachel.

“I had to.” Using her cane, Rachel headed for the door, nearly plowing over the tall, yummy neighbor standing there looking extremely sorry to be doing so.

Mel’s heart drummed against her ribs, but she plastered a bored smile on her face. Garrett held out a stack of mail to Rachel. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he said softly.

“You’re not intruding.” Rachel tossed the mail to the table. “Not at all, but if you’ll excuse me-” Without waiting for an answer, she vanished.

Ben shot Melanie a long, talk-to-you-about-this-later look that made her feel about five years old, and followed Rachel out.

Which left Garrett standing there alone-tall, dark, brooding. And yummy. What would he say? They hadn’t spoken much since their hot, animalistic tryst, and never about what had happened between them. But they also hadn’t been alone in all this time.

They were now. Would he bring it up? Or maybe reach for her with those sensual hands, and-

“Why did you do that?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “Bringing up the past, their past, like it’s any of your business?”

Shocked at his accusatory, furious tone, she laughed, but Garrett didn’t even crack a smile in return so hers slowly faded. “My sister’s past is my business.”

He pushed away from the doorway and moved across the room with grace and strength unusual in a man so tall. That she knew exactly how graceful and strong he was in minute detail, really burned.

“Not when you’re being purposely hurtful, it isn’t,” he said.

“I wasn’t.” She watched him reach into the cupboard for a mug, then pour coffee into it as if he belonged here.

She knew her sister considered him a good friend, but that she’d never managed that kind of relationship with him bugged the hell out of her. Was she such a bad person? And she resented how at home he was in Rachel’s house, all while acting as if the two of them hadn’t once been naked and wild together. “Not that I should have to explain myself to you,” she added, her words coming to an awkward halt when he handed her the steaming mug of coffee. She stared down at the drink.

“Don’t you like coffee?”

They were fighting, she thought, confused, and yet…he’d offered her a drink. Oh, wait. She got it. He wanted her again.

But nothing in his dark-blue eyes suggested sexual invitation.

What was wrong with him anyway? Men were always thinking about sex, always planning their next conquest.

Weren’t they?

“It’s not poisonous,” he said lightly, while she continued to look suspiciously into the mug.

“I take sugar and milk.”

Silently he doctored the mug, then poured himself his own. Black.

“I care about my sister,” she said a bit too defensively when he just looked at her. “I don’t want to see her hurt again.”

“If you care about her as you say, then you’d see that she’s glowing, glowing, for the first time in far too long.”

He let her stew about that while he drank. In his big hands the mug looked so small, so dainty, and she got sidetracked remembering how small and dainty she’d felt in his arms. How warm and safe. Damn him.

“I think it’s clear she’s glowing because of Ben,” Garrett said. “So excuse me if I’m being too forthright for you, but wanting to destroy that doesn’t seem like a caring, sisterly thing to do.”

She stared at him. A dentist. A nobody. “Did you just call me a bad sister?”

Considering, he drank some more coffee. “Do you really care what I think?”

She didn’t face such blunt honesty often. Her boss was never honest, her co-workers far more interested in furthering their careers than being truthful. She didn’t have a lot of close friends…okay, she had no close friends. As for her lovers, she was rarely up-front with them, or them with her, for that matter. “Look…”

“Garrett,” he reminded her, a little smile playing around his lips.

She knew his damn name! “You know what? You’re right, I don’t care what you think of me.”

“Then you won’t care that I think you’re trying to get between them for purely selfish reasons.”

Melanie stared at him. How often did a man talk to her so…so openly? Certainly, she’d never been called on the carpet like this, and she had to say it was shockingly…arousing. He wasn’t going to lie, he wasn’t going to bullshit.

Oh, man. She wanted him again. She really did. And she wasn’t the sort to deny herself. With a toss of her hair she smiled. “You think you know it all, don’t you? Well, isn’t it your lucky day.”

He cocked a brow. “Really? Why?”

“Because it just so happens I like a guy who knows it all.”

A little smile curved his lips. “Is that right?”

Oh, yeah. Males were so pathetically easy. Thank God.

He nodded once, agreeably, and…turned away? He went to the sink and washed out his mug, replacing it in the cupboard before heading toward the door.

Melanie watched the lines of his sleek back, his nice tight ass, and was reminded that his body made her mouth water.

But he was still walking away from her. “Garrett?”

“Not this time, Melanie.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Um…what?”

“A one-night stand isn’t going to be enough for me. Not with you. If you ever want more, you know where I live.” Then the cocky bastard walked out on her.

ON MONDAY, Ben picked Emily up from school. He liked to do that when he didn’t have to get Rachel to a doctor’s appointment or if he wasn’t busy taking pictures or writing. He liked picking her up in person, if only to spend an extra twenty minutes a day with her. In the car with him was the wriggling Patches pacing the passenger seat, waiting hopefully for the center of her universe to join them.

The middle school sat on a relatively quiet street of South Village, and like so many others it was a historical building. It had been one of the first schools built here in the late 1800s, though it’d been redone three times due to fires. Now a brick building with white trim, mock verandas and vines crawling up the sides, it seemed like a place out of time. Ben might have sat there in 1890 in his horse and buggy waiting for his daughter.

But then the bell rang, and kids-all pierced and dyed, wearing hip-huggers, bell-bottoms and leather, carrying laptops and cell phones-emerged from the building in droves. He had to laugh at himself, as his daughter was right in the middle of them, looking decidedly twenty-first century.

She walked out alone, but halfway down the path, someone called out to her.

Ben tensed when he saw it was a boy about her age. He wore jeans and a plain T-shirt-nothing tattooed, torn or slashed. A normal kid. He said something to Emily, to which he got a shrug as a response. After a few more moments of trying, he gave up.

Emily kept walking.

The boy watched her go with an expression on his face Ben knew all too well. Rejection. Not knowing a thing about the kid, Ben’s empathies were firmly in his court.

Emily, oblivious to the heartbreak behind her, looked up and saw Patches waiting for her. With a squeal, she tossed her backpack into the car and followed it in, grabbing the puppy and hugging her close. A love fest ensued, with lots of girl smiles and puppy kisses.

“Hey, sweetness.” Ben knew better than to lean in for his own kiss. Public displays of affection were equivalent to the torture rack for twelve-going-on-thirty-year-olds. “Don’t look now, but he’s still looking.”

She rubbed noses with the puppy. “Who?”

“The boy you were talking to.”

Horror crossed her face. “You were watching me?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

Given her expression, she didn’t see the difference. “Dad, just drive away. Quick!”

But he couldn’t drive away. The street had come to a standstill, thanks to an accident in the intersection one hundred yards ahead. “We’re not going anywhere.” He turned off the engine. Since they were still at the curb, he pocketed his keys and got out of the car.

“Dad!”

Walking around, he opened her door. “Want to show me your classroom?”

“No! I can’t!”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t walk around with you at my school!”

“Why not? Hey, let’s take some pictures. You’ve been wanting to learn how to use my camera, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, now’s a perfect time. We have a captive audience.” He clipped a leash on Patches. Grabbing his camera, he tugged his daughter free of the car and handed her the leash.

On the grass around the front of school sat hundreds of kids, waiting for their rides, socializing, reading, talking, with a few even studying. A perfect place for a man fascinated by people and the way they looked through his lens.

“Dad!”

He’d started walking and grinned-wisely with his back to his daughter-when he heard her and the puppy scramble to keep up with him.

There were a group of cheerleaders on the grass practicing. On the steps sat four guys disagreeing about some game they’d seen that the night before on television. Kids of every size and color, all doing their own thing, walked the path. Feeling lighthearted for no reason other than he had his daughter with him, Ben started snapping shots, explaining to Emily why he focused on certain things as he went. They’d been at it ten minutes when a man in a suit stood at the double doors to the school, squinting at him.

“Excuse me,” the man called. “What are you doing?”

“Taking pictures.” Ben hoisted the camera.

The man squinted some more in disapproval that wasn’t anything new for Ben, but then suddenly he blinked. “Ben? Ben Asher?”

While Ben just looked at him, wondering who the hell knew him and why, the man grinned and thrust out his hand. “Ritchie Atchison.”

“Ritchie.” High school. Skinny runt with an even lower profile than Ben had had.

“Yep.” Ritchie, balding and wearing reading glasses, laughed. “It’s me. I’m principal of this joint. What do you think of that?”

“That you moved up from The Tracks.”

Ritchie laughed again and slapped him on the back. “You know it. Now I’m torturing the kids of the kids who tortured me.” He sighed in bliss. “Nothing better than that. So…I’ve enjoyed your articles and pictures over the years. You hit it big. What are you doing taking pictures here?”

“I’m Emily’s father.” He put his hand on Emily’s shoulder, wanting to grin when he felt her tense. Oh, yeah, he’d definitely turned into a dad, one who was talking to the enemy. “Traffic isn’t moving so I thought she could show me around.”

Ritchie nodded to his camera. “Maybe you’ll share some of those with our yearbook committee. For old times’ sake.”

Ben didn’t do anything for old times’ sake, but he did love taking pictures, and the kids lounging around spitting attitude and spunk drew him. He glanced at Emily, who was saying don’t-you-dare with her eyes. He grinned.

She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Love to,” he said in tune to her loud sigh, which he ignored. “Here, hold this, sweetness,” and handed her his light meter.

Over the next hour she became his apprentice assistant. She started out silent, resentment pouring off her in palpable waves, but he kept asking her to hand him something, or her opinion on which shot to get, so she had no choice but to get involved.

“What do you think about them, Em? Should we grab the pic?” He pointed to a couple sitting side by side, nose to nose, lips to lips. Had he ever been that love-struck?

Oh, yeah, he had.

“They were homecoming queen and king,” she said. “He helped me reach a book in the library once.”

“So, let’s give them a shot at fame and fortune.” He took the picture to Emily’s smile.

God, he loved her smile. Wished she’d always smile.

Startled at the click of the camera, the couple looked up. He waved. When they waved back, Emily groaned. “Dad-”

“Look,” he said. A group of basketball players in jerseys sat on the brick planter, huddled over what looked like a play book. He moved closer, tugging Emily with him. She still held Patches, who let out one “hello” bark.

“I’m taking people shots for the yearbook today,” Ben told them, and lifted his camera. “Picture?”

They tossed their arms around each other and yelled “Cheese,” hamming while he snapped a handful of shots.

“Uh, excuse me?”

He and Emily both turned and faced a tall, gangly kid who nodded toward a group sitting on the grass. “Chess Club. Can you get us, too?”

Ben looked at Emily. “What do you think?”

She bit her lip and looked over at the group, where the boy who’d tried talking to her earlier sat. He looked up at her. Smiled.

Emily went beet red. “Your call.”

“Nope. It’s an assistant call.”

The gangly kid looked at Emily with new respect. “Emily? Please?”

She hadn’t taken her eyes off the boy. “Okay,” she whispered.

“So…” Ben leaned in. “What’s his name?”

“Who?”

He laughed. “You know who.”

“Oh. He’s Van.”

“Should we get him in the picture?”

“I don’t care.”

“Em. Should we get him in a picture?”

“Yeah.” Then she giggled. Giggled. His heart lit at the sound.

By the end of the next hour, Ben had used up eight rolls of film, the kids were in hog heaven, and Emily had been transformed into Lady Popular and looking at Ben with hero worship. He loved that she’d come out of her shell a bit, which had been his goal. He loved that he’d brought joy to a few kids with nothing more than his camera.

But the hero thing… He was no hero and never would be. He brooded over that on the drive back. “Em…” He turned down their street and by some miracle got a spot out front of the house. He stared up at the red brick and felt the noose tighten around his neck. “Your mom is getting better every day.”

“Yeah.”

“Soon she’ll be without the cane entirely.”

“Her hair is still short.”

“That’s not exactly a handicap, Em.”

She turned to him, a surprising resentment in every line of her body. “You want to go.”

Beneath the resentment was hurt; he’d be an idiot not to see it. Damn it. How was it he could be nearly thirty-one years old and still be such an idiot? “I don’t live here, sweetness. You know that.”

“I hate her!”

Ben blinked. The intricate workings of a twelve-year-old mind had completely escaped him. “What? You hate who?”

“Mom! She’s making you want to leave! I hate her!” She grabbed Patches and slammed out of the car, running up the walk.

God, how had he managed to screw this up? Ben ran after her and the puppy. “Em, wait.” Of course she didn’t, and by the time he caught up with her, she’d run up the circular staircase, and was heading straight for Rachel’s studio. “Hold on a sec,” he said, catching her shoulders. “Hold on. We need to talk about this.”

“Why?” She set down Patches and took off her leash. “You’re not doing anything wrong, she is.”

“No-”

“It’s true, Dad.” She straightened. “You came here, you’ve done everything you needed to do, and all she’s done is shove you away at every turn and make you want to go-”

The studio door opened to a pale Rachel. She looked at Emily. “I’m guessing you have something to say to me.”

“Yeah.” A sullen expression replaced Emily’s earnest one. “Dad wants to go away and it’s all your fault. You make it obvious he doesn’t really live here, that he has to go the minute you’re better.”

“There are circumstances you don’t understand-”

“I understand! You’re selfish and mean and I hate you!”

Rachel drew back. “Well. That’s new.”

“I mean it!” But Emily’s eyes were wide and filled with tears. “I hate you.”

“Em-” Ben’s heart pinched at the look on Rachel’s face, but she held up a hand halting his words.

“Let her finish.”

“That’s all. That’s all I have to say.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest. She added a shaky little hitch of breath. Ben guessed she was one beat away from meltdown.

“Okay, one thing at a time.” Rachel drew a shaky breath. “You know your dad doesn’t live here, you also know he has to go back at some point. If he wants to go now, there’s nothing holding him here.”

“But there is,” Emily cried. “Me. I’m holding him here!”

Ben’s throat went tight. “You know I love you, Em, but it’s true. I don’t live here. I have to go.”

“But why? I’m here. What else could you want?”

Ben took her hand and tugged her closer, then cupped her soft, sweet, hurting face. “Yes, you’re here, which makes this house one of my very favorite places. But I’ll see you. I’ll call you.”

“That’s not how a real family works.”

“Not all families live together, you know that. And you’re old enough to understand why.”

“Because Mom doesn’t love you.”

Yeah. Rachel didn’t love him. Hadn’t that always been the problem? “As your mother said, there are circumstances you don’t understand, and no, we’re not going to explain them to you. But one thing I can and will tell you, Emily Anne, is that the way you talked to your mother just now is unacceptable-”

“Ben-”

Now he held up his hand to halt Rachel’s words. “It’s okay to be mad at someone you love,” he said quietly to a now sobbing Emily. “But it’s not okay to be cruel.”

Emily buried her chest in Ben’s chest and unable to do anything else, he wrapped his arms around her. Putting his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “I love you. Your mom loves you. You have it pretty good right there, Em, trust me. I’m sorry we can’t give you the rest.”

She squeezed him so hard she nearly stole the life right out of him, and he closed his eyes as he listened to her cry, his daughter, his blood, his only family, the best part of his heart.

Then she pulled back, sniffed, and shoved her hands into her pockets. Looking at her toes, she said to Rachel, “I’m sorry I said I hate you. I don’t, not really.” Then she took off running toward her bedroom.

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

Patches whined.

Ben let out a shaky breath. “Whew. Twelve is fun, huh?”

Rachel stared down the hallway for a long moment. “If you’ve truly got one foot out the door already,” she said quietly. “Then get the rest of the way out.”

“Rachel-”

“No more buts, Ben, this is killing us. Killing all of us. I understand the possible threat of Asada-”

“He’s more than a possible threat.”

“We both know that threat lessens every day that passes. Yes, there’s Emily, and obviously she wants you to stay, but we both know that isn’t going to happen.”

“We’re…bonding,” he said, feeling oddly desperate.

“So finish bonding.”

“I don’t know how to tell her I’m going.” He felt bare, stripped down to the soul.

“She already knows.”

“She’s hurting.” I’m hurting. “She’s only twelve.”

“She more mature than you give her credit for. Tell her. Tell her soon.”

“Rach-”

“Dragging it out, Ben? How unlike you.”

Yeah. He probably deserved that. “I need a little more time.”

“Fine. A little more time. Take it. Then go, just go.” And with as much grace as ever, she walked away.

A headache started right between Ben’s eyes.

The puppy watched her go and let out a pathetic little whimper.

He scooped her up and got himself licked across the mouth for his effort.

Just go, Ben.

How many times had he heard that now? Damn it, he never stayed where he wasn’t wanted.

Never.

Patches whined again, more softly now. “Yeah,” he whispered, holding her close. “I know the feeling.”