Chapter 17
Tabitha climbed the steps to the deck that ran along the width of the back of the house. It had been separated into two smaller areas with a railing in between. The half belonging to the apartment where Ian and his mom lived had a round table with a tan umbrella, and four chairs; a cozy lounger and wide chair with matching tan cushions, and a small, wrought iron table in between them; and two huge pots filled with a bright and cheerful mix of flowers in pinks and red.
Tabitha opened the ugly green fabric camping chair she’d picked up during one her trips to the hardware store earlier that day, sat down, and tried not to covet her neighbor’s deck furniture.
When that didn’t work and she coveted that lounger and those cheery flowers anyway, she stood, turned her chair to face away from all the things she couldn’t have, and sat down again. The yard was large and private with a tall white fence blocking the view of the house next door and dense woods surrounding the other two sides.
The deck and the yard were why she’d rented this apartment, sight unseen.
Except for one foster home where she’d stayed for a few months when she was thirteen, she’d never had a backyard.
But that hadn’t been hers. Just as the tiny bedroom on the first floor hadn’t been hers. The bed and dresser in it hadn’t been hers. The food in the fridge and pantry hadn’t been hers.
The family hadn’t been hers.
Which they’d proved when they sent her back because she’d hoarded food in the bottom drawer of the dresser, afraid it was going to be taken away from her for the slightest infraction.
After that, she’d spent the rest of her childhood in a group home.
But that was the past. Look at her now. She was educated. Employed. And, in a few years, after she’d scrimped and saved enough to pay off her student loans, after she’d then scrimped and saved some more, she was going to buy her own little house with her own backyard.
With a sigh, she slid down in her chair, which was in no way at all comfortable to begin with, the comfort level only dropping with each inch she sank. Still, she persevered. Knees bent at an awkward angle. Shoulders at her ears.
She’d wanted this deck, this backyard, and had bought this chair specifically so she could enjoy them. This was a victorious moment. Another goal achieved.
She was going to celebrate it.
She’d cleaned her entire apartment, unpacked and put away all her worldly possessions, organized her bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, and driven the route to her new job five times—three times using her phone for directions and two without to make sure she knew exactly how to get to work the next morning.
That Mount Laurel’s Human Services division was in the building next to—and shared a parking lot with—the MLPD was just her bad luck.
Nothing new there.
She’d also made two trips to the local hardware store—the first for a hammer and screwdriver and a fan, the second for the chair she was now sitting on and a second fan because her apartment was like a freaking sauna—bought groceries at a place called Sonny’s that she absolutely could not afford to shop at ever again, and set up her internet installation for Tuesday after being on hold for forty minutes.
It was incredible how much a person could get done when they set their mind to it and had no one else they could count on to help them.
And as she’d accomplished all the many, many things, she hadn’t once stopped thinking about Miles.
We’re done.
Those two words particularly.
The way he’d uttered them so coldly, with such finality. Then turned on his heel and left, walking away without so much as a backward glance.
Which Tabitha knew for a fact because she’d stood there staring at his broad back—and yes, maybe taking a quick glance at his ass because she was only human, and it looked spectacular in his uniform pants—until he’d gotten in his car and drove away.
She’d thought for sure she’d be trekking the two miles back to her apartment in her strappy sandals and dress after dropping off the rental. But when she’d stepped out of Bissett’s tiny office, Verity was waiting for her, Ian in the backseat.
Because Miles had texted his sister and asked her to pick Tabitha up.
And when their lunch got delivered, Tabitha tried to pay only to find out that it had already been covered by Assistant Chief Jennings.
Seemed he wasn’t done with her after all.
Not as much as he wanted to be.
Not nearly as much as she needed him to be.
Staring blindly across the quiet yard, she rubbed her forefinger across the scar on her chin remembering Miles’s finger there, his touch burning like a flame. The way everything seemed to condense and narrow to that one, small point, until all she could see was his face, all she could feel was his skin on hers.
All she could do was open her mouth when he increased that slight pressure.
Standing there, breathless and enthralled by his gaze and the husky tone of his voice, she’d wanted to give him everything he asked for. Everything she was.
Who hurt you, baby?
She’d trusted him. Had wanted to confide in him.
Then something in his eyes shifted, turning heated and dark. Sexual.
Something that warned her he wasn’t different from any other man who’d looked at her that way.
And she’d reverted to the girl she’d once been. Distrustful. Deceitful. Guarded.
Part of her regretted it immediately.
Another part reminded her what happened when she let people get too close. When she let her defenses down.
Told her she wasn’t cut out for the things he was looking for, the things he needed.
Honesty. Trust.
Someone who was whole.
While she wasn’t sure she’d ever be anything other than broken.
“What are you a guardian of?”
At the question, Tabitha startled and jerked her head around to see Ian staring at her from the other side of the railing. The kid was stealthy, she’d give him that.
Or else she’d just been too wrapped up in her thoughts of Miles to hear the sliding glass door open.
She stood, then crossed to the railing with a smile. Her grin grew as she got closer and noted his messy hair, complete with several blades of grass stuck in the strands above his left ear and the smudge of dirt or chocolate, or a combination of both, on his chin. He wore a different shirt than the one he’d had on earlier, this one proclaiming either he or the shirt or both—it was unclear—as property of The Oklahoma Drillers, and sporting a purple stain mid chest. He had a scrape on his right knee that hadn’t been there at lunch, and for some reason, he was only wearing one sock.
No shoes. Just one bare foot and one socked one.
He must’ve had one heck of a day since she’d seen him at lunch.
“Hello, there,” she said. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch your question.”
“I askeded what you’re a guardian of.”
“A guardian?”
“Uncle Miles said you were a guardian, but he didn’t say what you guarded. My dad guards stuff cuz he’s a SEAL. And Uncle Miles guards stuff cuz he’s a police officer. Are you a police officer, too?”
“No,” she said, slowly, still trying to figure out what Miles had said about her and why.
Thinking she might be better off not knowing the answer.
“But I do help police officers help people,” she continued.
A gorgeous brunette a few years younger than Tabitha, and obviously Ian’s mother, stepped onto the deck from her apartment. “Uncle Miles didn’t say she was a guardian.” But even though she was still talking to Ian, she looked at Tabitha when she went on, as if making sure her message was conveyed to the right person. “He said she was guarded.”
Tabitha rubbed a hand over her chest right where it felt like she’d been stabbed with a pointy stick.
Ouch.
“I’m not tired,” Ian blurted out, though no one had asked.
And then he blew his whole charade by yawning so wide and so long, his eyes watered.
“I can see that,” his mom said as Tabitha hid her own yawn behind her hand because those things were contagious. “But you are filthy so I’m going to need you to hop in the shower.”
Scratching at a bug bite on his forearm, he stared up at his mom. “Do I have to wash my hair?”
She reached out and picked the grass from his hair. “Yep.”
“But I just washed it yesterday.”
“You did. And today you somehow got syrup in it even though it’s not even close to your mouth, were rolling around in the grass and, from what I hear, you used some strange dog as a pillow. Not to mention your wrestling match with Bella the moment we got to your uncle’s house. So, you’ll wash it again tonight.”
“Fine,” he said morosely, a boy beaten down by his mother’s unreasonable demands for cleanliness and proper hygiene. “But I won’t like it.”
“Your feelings on the subject have been noted and I appreciate you being honest about them.” She crossed her arms and inclined her head toward the door. “Now go.”
He sighed, then made it two slow, dragging steps away before stopping and blinking up at Tabitha. “Can we play Spit again tomorrow?”
Now it was Tabitha’s turn to shoot a glance at his mother, but she wasn’t giving anything away about how she felt about her new adult neighbor playing cards with her son. “I have to work tomorrow.”
“We could play after you’re done,” he said.
“I’m not sure when that’ll be. Why don’t we play it by ear?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“A male who can admit he doesn’t know everything?” Tabitha murmured, then shot a grin at his mom. “Good job, Mama.”
The brunette’s mouth barely twitched, though amusement shone in her eyes.
“It means you’ll have to wait and see,” his mom told Ian. “Go with the flow.”
“I don’t like going with the flow.”
She pulled him to her side, hugging him close, and he leaned his head against her. “I know. How about this? You can teach me this fantastic new card game—tomorrow,” she added when he leaned back excitedly as if ready to go get a deck of cards and start shuffling. “That way, if you’re stuck with only me to hang out with, you and I can play.”
He pondered that for a good minute. “Okay,” he finally said.
“Your enthusiasm for the idea warms my heart,” his mother said dryly. “Now, you need to tell Miss Tabitha good night and go and get showered. Bedtime’s in fifteen minutes.”
His eyes widened. “But you said we could read a chapter of Holes!”
“I said we could read a chapter if we had time.”
“Good night!” he blurted at Tabitha before his mother had even finished talking. Then, he took off, moving faster than Tabitha had seen him move all day.
“’Night,” she called after him, but he was already inside.
There was a loud thump that had her wincing and his mom shutting her eyes on a soft sigh. A moment later, Ian yelled, “I’m okay!”
The women exchanged an amused look.
“You must be Katarina,” Tabitha said.
The brunette gave a slow nod. “Kat.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kat.” She was gorgeous with shiny black hair that fell thick and straight to her mid back, a golden complexion and dark brown eyes. She looked impossibly cool—both literally and figuratively—in her faded, wide-legged jeans with holes in both knees, ballerina flats and a snug, black square neck top with short sleeves. “Ian’s got the look of you.”
“He’s got enough of me in him to make me not lose my mind,” she acknowledged. “But there’s plenty of Jennings in there, too.”
“I take it from the flatness in your tone, that’s not a good thing?”
The corners of Kat’s mouth curved and Tabitha wanted to pat herself on the back for getting that much of a positive reaction out of the other woman. “It’s not good or bad. It just is.”
“Well,” Tabitha said, smiling even more, “that’s either an incredibly emotionally healthy way to look at it, or a slightly worrisome ability to ignore reality. Either way, it’s working for you. Ian’s a great kid.”
Kat inclined her head which, after a moment, Tabitha realized must be her way of saying thank you.
And that she wasn’t going to admit which coping mechanism she was using.
“He is pretty great. Part of that is due to the Jennings. And no,” she added, “that’s not such a bad thing. Even if it is hard to admit he’s as much theirs as he is mine.”
“In that case, you’re both very lucky. Especially Ian.”
She saw kids daily who were neglected and unloved. Kids who’d never had one person step up to care for them. To put them first.
Kids like her.
Tabitha cleared her throat. “Well, I’d better let you get inside. I’d hate for Ian to miss out on his reading time because I kept you.”
“Don’t you want to know what else Miles said about you?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!
“Not particularly,” she said, calm and cool-like, as if she absolutely, one hundred percent meant it. “Although I am a little bit curious as to how I became the topic of conversation. I can’t imagine why Miles would bring me up. Or want to talk about me. Especially after the way we left things earlier today.”
“He didn’t bring you up. Verity did.”
“Oh.” But it was stupid to feel disappointed. Foolish to be surprised that Miles wasn’t out there chatting about her to anyone who’d listen. “I’m still confused. What does Verity have to do with it?”
“Every Sunday the Jennings have a family dinner. And tonight, you were the hot topic of conversation.”
“I’m sure Miles didn’t like that.”
“Oh, he didn’t. But the Jennings are nothing if not relentless when they want something.”
“You don’t like them,” Tabitha said, slowly. “The Jennings.”
Although she obviously liked, or at least trusted Verity and her brothers with Ian enough to leave him in their care.
“It’s impossible not to like them,” she said, not sounding too pleased by it, “with the way they all love Ian and help care for him. They’ve been there for my son since before he was born.”
“But they weren’t there for you?”
“They tried.” She paused. Held Tabitha’s gaze. “But I learned early on how stupid it was to rely on a Jennings.”
And if those words weren’t a warning, Tabitha would eat her new ugly camp chair.
“I’m not relying on Miles. For anything.”
“Maybe you’re not relying on him for anything, but Verity is under the impression that you moved your entire life here for him.”
“As I’ve learned, Verity has a very active imagination.”
“Look,” Kat said, resigned and grudgingly, as if Tabitha was yanking the words from her mouth against her will, “this isn’t my business and usually, I wouldn’t say anything, but if there’s one thing I have experience with, it’s the Jennings. They’re a unit. A strong one. They stick together no matter what. They’re kind and funny and charming, truly love each other and actually enjoy being together. That kind of bond is rare. And so lovely it draws certain people to them. People who want to be a part of that. People who’ve never had that.”
Tabitha could only stare.
How on earth was this woman seeing inside Tabitha’s head right into the deepest, most secret part of her?
“Am I the some kind of people?” she asked, because two could play this I’m good at reading people game. “Or are you?”
Kat’s first grin of this conversation was fast, appreciative, and quickly gone. “Yes. But the thing is, even though they’re hard to dislike, even though they draw you in, they’re still human. And beneath the surface each and every one of them is hiding their very own personal demons. Thoughts and fears and traumas that they don’t share with anyone. Not even each other.”
“Mom!” Ian called. “I’m ready to read!”
They both looked to see him in the doorway in only a pair of cartoon sleep shorts, hair wet and dotted with shampoo suds, the dirt still on his chin.
Kat shut her eyes, muttered what sounded like a prayer for patience under her breath, then told him, “I’ll be right in.” She turned back to Tabitha. “And the reason they keep their demons to themselves,” she continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted, “is because admitting they have them would make those demons real, and then they’d have to face them. Deal with them.”
Tabitha thought of the nightmares Miles used to have when they were together. How he’d shut down when she asked them about them.
Remembered his panic attack from three weeks ago.
Demons, indeed.
“I get that you’re trying to warn me about something,” Tabitha said, “and while I appreciate the sentiment, I didn’t move here for Miles. I moved here for me.”
She knew better than to think Miles could forgive her. That he’d ever give her a second chance.
She’d be stupid to hope for something so far out of her reach.
Kat’s mouth went flat. “They didn’t know about you.”
“Who didn’t?”
“His family. They didn’t know anything about you. Had never heard of you before. And not one of them knew you were together for so long while Miles lived in Pittsburgh.”
It was like a blow straight to the heart. One that stole her breath. Had her wanting to curl into herself. Protect herself.
Instead, she waited. Head high, chin lifted, shoulders back.
Because Kat’s expression told Tabitha what came next was going to hurt even worse.
And she’d be damned if she let it take her down.
“He said he didn’t tell them because it wasn’t important enough to share with anyone.”
A sound tried to rise in her throat, denial and pain, but she pressed her lips together. Hard.
“As I said…” But she had to stop. Clear her throat to get rid of that lingering tightness. Had to take a deep breath in and hold it for the count of five to gather her thoughts. “As I said, I appreciate the warning.”
Kat’s eyebrows rose. “Appreciation is all well and good. But what are you going to do about it?”
“I have no idea.” And that had to be one of the most honest things she’d said all day. “All I do know is that I moved to Mount Laurel to make a life for myself. For. My. Self,” she repeated, voice shaking, hands fisted, fully in her very own Gone with the Wind, as God is my witness moment. “And I’m not about to let anyone, not even stupidly handsome, great in bed, ass-looks-amazing-in-his-uniform-pants Assistant Chief Jennings chase me out of town.”
Instead of applause, Kat’s mouth quirked just the slightest bit in both amusement for, and acknowledgement of, Tabitha’s dramatic response. “Not sure he’d stoop to that. But you’re right about the stupidly handsome bit.”
“Right? It’s just unfair.”
“Life often is.” She paused, once more studying Tabitha in that all-seeing, narrowed eye way that had all of Tabitha’s self-protective instincts screaming. “You can be pissed at him, you know.”
Tabitha’s stomach turned. Her breathing quickened. “He has a right to his feelings.”
Even if those feelings were hurtful and mean and dismissive.
“He does,” Kat agreed. “But that doesn’t give him the right to be a dick.”
Tabitha’s laugh was a short, humorless sound. “I’m guessing he thinks the things I’ve done give him every right to be a dick.”
“Do you think the things you’ve done give him that right?”
“Some of them.”
“All I’m saying is that you can feel bad about your mistakes and be pissed at Miles. They’re not mutually exclusive. He deserves it. He can handle it.” Kat glanced back at Ian who was now lying on his back, his legs up on the doorframe, reading a different book than the one he’d had earlier. She took a step closer to Tabitha. Lowered her voice. “And no matter how pissed he might be right back at you, he would never take it out on you.”
Easy to read once again.
Tabitha wanted to avert her gaze from Kat’s all-seeing one. Wanted to duck her head in shame. She wanted to hide.
But she was tired of hiding.
And, by God, she had nothing to be ashamed of.
It was past time she started believing that.
“Mom!” Ian called, and Kat turned and must have given him the mother of all mother looks because he scrambled to course correct. “I mean… excuse me, Mom? What does a-u-t-o-g-r-a-p-h spell?”
“Autograph.” She turned to Tabitha. “I have to go.”
“It was nice meeting you.”After a small hesitation—or moment of pondering—Kat gave a tiny nod. “Yeah. You, too.”
Tabitha grinned. “Wow. I feel like I just won a prize. I get the feeling you don’t say you’re happy to meet many people.”
Kat shrugged as she began to walk away. “You’d be right.”