Chapter 24
There. She’d said it.
It had been eating away at her for two and a half years, since the day she’d filed the divorce papers. And every day since she’d lived with the vivid, searing image of Blaine’s look of utter and total shock when she’d told him what was in the envelope she’d given him.
You can’t mean this. I thought… I love you. I thought you loved me.
I do. Too much. Don’t you see, that’s why I can’t stay?
But I’m fine now. The worst is over.
Over until the next time. I’m sorry you married a coward, Blaine. You, of all people.
She had expected to be relieved. She should have been relieved. But the peace she’d expected had never arrived. Instead there was just that gaping hole in her life, which hurt almost as much as seeing him so damaged had.
And, of course, the fact that her son hated her now.
Hated her enough that he couldn’t stand to be under the same roof with her. That even hanging out who knows where with kids headed for big trouble—if they weren’t already there—was better than having to be around her.
And the worst part was she understood. Because there were days on end when she felt the same way.
When she wished she could…not be who she was.
She wondered if she had any courage at all of her own, or if she’d borrowed it all from Blaine.
If his courage fighting for his life had somehow seeped into her, giving her enough—just enough—to get through.
And left her, when it was over, drained, empty and feeling utterly hollow inside.
Blaine was staring at her. She was grateful there was no one else out and about, at least not close enough to hear as they stood on the corner.
And still glad she’d chosen here to do this, so she wouldn’t have the echoes of this painful admission inside her home.
Not that she hadn’t admitted that she didn’t have the guts to live with a hero there. Sometimes out loud.
Blaine finally spoke. “After what you went through when I was injured, how can you say you don’t have guts?”
“I couldn’t walk out on you when you were so hurt.”
His eyes widened. “Erin, what on earth do you think courage is?”
“I know what it’s not, and that’s leaving because I couldn’t take it if it happened again.”
She expected him to go back to what he’d often said before, that that was a big if, but instead he just looked at her for a long, silent moment. Then, quietly, he said, “But you had the guts to call me now, even though you hate me for what I put you through.”
She sucked in an audible breath, shocked at the interpretation he’d put on her lack of contact. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
His mouth twisted with obvious disbelief. “So, that’s not the reason you can’t even tolerate speaking to me unless it’s an emergency? Why you never call, or talk to me when I call Ethan?”
“No, I—”
“Or maybe you’re just so done with me it’s not worth your time?”
She gave a slow shake of her head as her mouth tightened and she swallowed hard, painfully. She looked around, almost desperate for something else to focus on, but found nothing.
Because nothing was enough to distract her from this.
“No, Blaine,” she whispered. “That I don’t talk to you isn’t because I’m done with you.” It took every bit of nerve she had to look up at him again. “It’s because I’m not.”
He was still staring at her, looking utterly shocked, when Cutter gave a soft bark that sounded almost apologetic.
They both looked at the visiting dog, and as if he’d been waiting to be sure he had their attention, he started walking into the park.
By necessity—and for Erin with relief, they followed.
At first she assumed the dog had some business to take care of, and tried to remember where the park’s cleanup supplies were.
But it shortly became obvious the dog had a destination in mind.
He stopped at the base of the ladder that led up to the small, cabin-like structure that was the top of the various play equipment structures.
A slide went down the other side, and the set of swings out from a third side, and the big sand pile on the fourth.
Blaine nodded at the dog. “That’s what I wondered, boy.”
She didn’t realize until he started up the ladder what Blaine had meant, that this was the place in the park he’d wanted to check out.
But Cutter had led them here, and smart as he seemed, he couldn’t have understood that.
But could he have scented something? She’d seen some videos of search and rescue dogs doing some incredible things sometimes days after an incident.
Blaine disappeared into the structure, and she heard him moving around.
A couple of minutes later, he reappeared in the doorway.
She nearly gasped when he dropped straight down to the ground, skipping the ladder.
And all she could think of was how hard he had worked to get his left leg functional again.
But he obviously thought nothing of it. Or what he’d found up there outranked it. Which he proved with his next words.
“Somebody’s been there, probably for a couple of nights at least.”
Her breath caught. Could Ethan have really been so close?
All the time she’d spent walking the neighborhood, could he have been there, watching her?
She’d walked around the park, but never really looked near the playground area, since Ethan was a teenager now and looked on such things with disdain.
But she’d never thought of the little structure as a possible place to hide.
Because you didn’t want to admit your son wanted to hide from you.
She saw then that Blaine was holding something, what looked like a crumpled paper bag from a local takeout.
He held it out to Cutter, who nosed it and let out a low whuff as he reached up to paw at it.
Her mind was racing, wishing she knew more about dogs, especially very well trained ones like this.
She wanted to believe this meant Ethan, that he was picking up the scent Rafe had made certain he knew.
And surely if it had just been the scent of whatever food had been in the bag, the dog would have tried to take it, to see if there was more food, or maybe lick that grease that had stained the bottom?
But Cutter did none of that, only pawed at it and looked up at Blaine. And once more let out that whuff, as if to be sure he’d gotten the message. And Blaine, being Blaine, understood.
“I got it, boy. It’s his. Thanks.”
“How can you be sure? It must smell like food to him.”
“If Cutter says Ethan’s scent is on this, it is. Rafe said trust him. And I trust Rafe.”
Once he would have said that to you. Until you proved to him you didn’t deserve his trust.
He stroked the dog’s head, and then dug into the bag. When he pulled out the narrow white strip of paper, her pulse gave a sudden kick. A receipt. Which would be dated.
“Saturday,” he said.
She smothered a gasp. That had been the day she had broken and called Blaine. That day, Ethan had still been that close? If she’d been more thorough, if she’d thought about this little place as a shelter, if she’d—
“Stop.” Blaine’s voice was sharp. “Quit blaming yourself.”
“But it’s my fault—”
He reached out and grabbed her hand. A jolt went through her at the contact.
“Erin, think. Does it really matter a damn right now whose fault it is? What matters is finding Ethan. Nothing else. There’ll be time enough when he’s home safe to blame yourself from here to Alaska if you want to. But now, you need to—”
“Get over myself,” she finished for him.
He grimaced. “I wasn’t going to say quite that.”
“I know. You’re too kind to. Which is why I said it for you. Because you’re right.”
She dug down deep, tried to remember how she’d gotten through those awful days four years ago—when she’d gone from sitting at his bedside waiting for those infernal machines to send out that hideous sound that meant his battered body had surrendered, to watching him win every challenge of his recovery, then fight his way through rehab and therapy until now, when you’d never guess what he’d been through, if you didn’t know.
He looked…normal. Strong. Moving as if nothing had ever happened. That pilot’s gaze as sharp as ever.
That gaze that rarely missed anything. Except it had missed how little sand there was in her, how little courage.
But she knew she’d been right about that: she could never go through that again.
But surely she could use what it had taught her about perseverance and never giving up?
What Blaine had taught her, just by watching him never give up?
For the sake of their son, she could—she would—find whatever was left of that strength and pour it into finding him.
They walked for another two hours, Cutter finding nothing more of interest other than another dog out for a walk with his kid.
The passerby was about a quarter the size of Cutter, but with about the same amount of fur.
They talked to the girl who was holding the leash for a few minutes, and found out that yeah, she’d seen some older kid hanging out near the slide house last week, but hadn’t seen him lately.
Erin quickly pulled out her phone and showed her the picture of Ethan she’d been using.
“Yeah, that looks like him. If his hair was longer.”
“He was overdue for a haircut,” she said.
Blaine’s jaw tensed for a moment, and she wondered if it was because he missed out on all the ordinary, mundane aspects of parenthood, like haircuts and nagging about homework.
“I gotta go,” the girl said. “I’m late and Mom will be worried.”
“I know the feeling,” Erin said, stifling the jab of pain as she said it. “So hurry home.”
She watched the girl and the ball of fluff hurry on, until they turned up the sidewalk leading to the house on the corner opposite the one they’d stopped on before.
“So she lives in a good spot to see the place,” Blaine said quietly, as if he was thinking out loud.
“Yes.” Something belatedly struck her. “And if it truly was Ethan, then…he didn’t go to those kids, the wannabe gangsters, right away.”
The slightest of smiles curved Blaine’s mouth, then vanished. A brief flash of hope. She’d been afraid to even name the emotion.
“No, he didn’t,” Blaine said softly. “So it wasn’t his first thought. He didn’t leave to join them. He joined them after he’d left. And maybe didn’t know what else to do.”
She wasn’t sure how this tiny bit of information they couldn’t even be sure was true comforted her, but it did.
But then, Blaine had always had the knack.
She stared up at him. He stared back, his eyes moving as if he were searching her face for…
something. After a long, silent moment, he leaned down. And kissed her.
It was the lightest, briefest of touches, almost casual, but it took her breath away nevertheless. Because Blaine Everett had always been able to sear through all her defenses.
Standing still had made the chilly air more evident.
And after the flash of heat he’d just sent through her it felt even colder.
Blaine stepped back, as if he were having second thoughts about that brief but all too sweet kiss.
She shivered slightly, from the cold or his absence she didn’t know.
She pulled her lightweight jacket a little closer around her.
“I think that’s about enough for tonight,” Blaine said, his voice showing nothing of the turmoil she was feeling. “Hopefully the Foxworth guy in charge down here has some connections that will help, when he gets here.”
“They seem like…really good people.”
He nodded as they started to walk back toward her house. “Rafe did some pretty incredibly heroic stuff when he was in the Marines. But he says he’s prouder of what Foxworth does than anything else.”
“Sounds like a good place to be.”
Blaine nodded again. “He’s really happy. And he deserves it.”
So do you, Blaine Everett. So do you.
With a smothered sigh, she followed as the Foxworth dog led them back home.
And tried not to replay that kiss in her mind on an endless loop.