by Jill Shalvis
“You getting in?” she asked. “Or am I going to get a ticket for loitering?”
Troy got in. He pulled on his seat belt and leaned his head back, closing his eyes with a sigh.
She texted her grandma that she was going to be a little late and then started to drive him to the harbor where Tanner was working, but then on impulse parked at the pier.
Troy looked out. “This isn’t home.”
“It’s the home of the ice cream.”
She bought them both double cones from Lance and then they sat on the end of the pier and stared out at the water.
“Thought only creepers bought kids ice cream cones,” Troy said.
“Or women who just really need a sugar fix. You made me hungry with the Easter candy thing. You going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Silence.
“Okay, then. How about why you have a bruise on your jaw and you’re limping?”
He shrugged.
“Ah, so you…ran into a door?” she asked.
More silence.
“You fell down some stairs?”
That got an almost smile out of him. “It’s not a big deal. I tried out for the school play.”
She glanced over at him. “And the part was to get beat up?”
“I got the part,” he said, not answering her question. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because he’ll think it’s stupid. I didn’t try out for football but I’m in a play.”
“Troy, your dad wants you to be happy here. That doesn’t mean you have to follow in his footsteps. You’ll find your own path, and he’ll understand that.”
“No, he won’t. He doesn’t understand anything.”
She couldn’t help it—she laughed.
He scowled. “What’s so funny?”
“Well, let’s see. From the moment he knew you existed, he changed his life to protect you. Went into the navy to support you, continued on the oil rigs, and then worked with your mom to get joint custody and cleared out the office in his house to give you a bedroom. And then he let you paint it dark purple. Dark purple,” she said, and laughed again. “He hates purple.”
Troy’s mouth twitched.
“What?”
“I hate it too.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was just trying to piss him off but instead he said sure, I could paint my room purple.” He dropped his head and looked at Callie. “Who does that?”
“A dad who’s human and has regrets, and loves you. Now tell me about the fight you had at school.”
He sighed. “Some of the football players think being in a play is dumb. I disagreed.”
With his fists, apparently. “Can’t you just stay away from them?”
“Yeah. But they need to stay away from the drama kids and not pick on them.”
She looked into his angry eyes. “You were protecting someone.”
He shrugged.
“The other boy needs to tell a grown-up,” she said. She broke off when his jaw only tightened. “It’s not a boy,” she said softly. “It’s a girl.”
He shrugged again.
Yeah. It was a girl. She sighed. “If this is an ongoing problem, you really need to talk to your dad.”
“Why?”
“He could help,” she said.
“No, he can’t. The principal hates him even more than she hates me.” He stood up. “Just forget it, forget all of it.”
“Troy—”
“You can’t tell him about the fight. Or the play. Not any of it.”
“Then you have to,” she said.
“Fine. I will.”
She looked into his fiercely determined eyes. He was at that stage, half boy, half man, and her heart ached for him. “I’m trusting you to do that.”
“I know,” he said, and it wasn’t until that night when Callie was in bed that she realized he hadn’t said when he’d tell his dad.
Should she say something before Troy did? The last thing she needed was for him to think she’d tattled. Nor did she want Tanner to think she was butting into their lives. She wasn’t. How could she? They were friends with benefits, and sometimes just benefits. Her own decree with the this-changes-nothing thing.
But then the matter was taken out of her hands when Tanner didn’t come over that night.
Callie lay in bed missing him much more than she’d thought possible.
The next day Callie’s phone beeped, reminding her to pick up Troy from his Lucille babysitting duty. She raced out the door and headed toward the art gallery. Halfway there, she was startled into a near heart attack when she saw blue lights flash in her rearview mirror.
Damn it!
She pulled over and was tearing through her purse for her driver’s license when the police officer rapped politely on her window.
She jumped, hit her head on the visor, swore, and finally rolled down the window. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning her purse upside down into the passenger seat. Where the hell was her wallet? “I didn’t mean to be speeding. I’m just late to pick someone up.” She tried a smile.
He didn’t return it. He was mid-thirties and extremely good looking in a dark and brooding sort of way. She recognized him as a longtime Lucky Harbor resident, but she wasn’t sure what his name was. “Your tag’s expired,” he said.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This is my grandma’s car and she put the tag on a few weeks ago.”
“No tag.”
“It’s there,” she insisted. “She got it in the mail.”
“It’s not there.”
She stared up into his handsome but hard face. “Look,” she said, “it’s pretty cloudy. Maybe if you took off the dark glasses you’d be able to see the sticker.”
His expression didn’t change. It was still dialed to Badass Cop. “License and registration,” he said.
Gritting her teeth, she gave up the search for her wallet. She knew exactly where it was.
On her kitchen countertop where she’d accidentally left it.
But the registration, that she could provide. She leaned over, opened the glove box, and pulled out the envelope from the DMV that her grandma had stuffed in there. When she opened it, the registration tag fell out and into her lap.
She stared down at it. Blew out a sigh. And then held it up for the police officer. “Funny story,” she said.
He didn’t look amused.
“I found the tag.” She waved it at him.
He took it. “Driver’s license?” he asked, face deadpan.
Shit. “Yeah, about that. It’s another funny story—”
She broke off at a knock on the passenger window. She craned her neck the other way and felt relief roll over her.
Tanner.
She powered that window down as well. “What are you—”
“Officer,” he said, looking past her to the cop. “Is this woman giving you any trouble?”
The officer didn’t even blink. “She’s about to be taken in for questioning.”
What? She gaped at the police officer. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry if I insinuated you couldn’t see past the Dirty Harry glasses, but—”
The guy flashed a smile and she stared at him. Then she whipped around and looked at Tanner.
Also grinning.
“You do sort of look like Dirty Harry,” Tanner said to the cop. “Hand me the registration sticker. I’ll put it on for her.”
The officer handed Tanner the sticker, and the two of them went to the rear of her car like she didn’t even exist. They were talking and laughing, and she sat there grinding her teeth for a beat before she exited the car. “Excuse me.”
They were still yucking it up.
“I said excuse me!” She crossed her arms and tapped a foot. “I’d like to know what exactly is so funny here. I get pulled over, nearly have a heart attack over Dirty Harry here, and then I find the two of you cackling like a pair of hens.”
They looked at each other an
d were set off again. Finally Tanner got himself together and straightened, still smiling. “I got the sticker on for you.”
“Thank you.” She snatched the envelope from him. “I’m going to kill my grandma.”
“I’d appreciate it if you refrained,” the officer said. “Murder involves a hell of a lot of paperwork for me. Plus I’m not sure black stripes are your color.”
“Callie, you probably never met Sheriff Sawyer Thompson,” Tanner said. “In the old days he was on the other side of the law.”
The sheriff grinned. “Long time ago.”
She was not in the mood for this. “Are you giving me a ticket or not?” she asked.
“Not,” he said. “But thanks for the entertainment of the day.” He nodded to Tanner and was gone.
Tanner ran a finger over her shoulder. “Pretty,” he said of her cashmere cardigan sweater. “Love the look.”
Callie went still and then glanced down at herself.
Yep. Perfect.
She’d forgotten to change out of her ratty sweats and fake Uggs again.
“It’s the new style,” she said, nose in the air, ignoring his smile and the way it affected her. “Now if you’ll excuse me—I’m late to pick up your son.”
“I’ll get him.”
“Then I’m late for a meeting.”
“You’ve got a meeting,” he said, heavy on the liar, liar.
“Yep,” she said. He didn’t have to know that it was an emergency meeting with the bakery because she needed a doughnut.
“Well,” he said. “Hope it’s a good one.”
“It will be.”
And then, with as much dignity as she could find—which wasn’t much—she got into her car and drove off.
Chapter 19
Tanner would have liked to follow after Callie. He’d kiss that annoyance right off her mouth, buy her dinner, and then take any and all crumbs of affection she was willing to throw his way.
But he couldn’t. He needed to pick Troy up and grill him. The day before he’d come home with the obvious markings from a fight, and no amount of badgering had gotten him to spill his guts.
Today Tanner was trying a different tactic. He had an afternoon free from work and planned to take Troy out on the boat.
And yes, he was reduced to flat-out bribing the kid.
He pulled up to Lucille’s, and Troy slunk out, walking toward the truck like he was heading toward his own execution. He shut the door, seat-belted up, and then slouched, staring straight ahead.
“Hey,” Tanner said.
Troy grunted.
“You have an okay day?” Tanner asked. Jesus. Listen to him. Ward Cleaver. Not that it mattered, all he got was another grunt. “Troy, look at me.”
Troy huffed out a put-upon breath and looked at him. “What?”
“Just checking to see if you had any other new bruises,” Tanner said.
“Funny.”
“Not being funny,” Tanner said. “I really wanted to see.” He drove them to the harbor and parked. “Come on.”
Troy followed without question. This was more out of sullenness than any sort of blind obedience. The kid didn’t speak until they were on the boat and Tanner was pushing off and steering them away.
It was one of those startlingly gorgeous blue days. Skies so blue it hurt to look at them. White cotton-ball clouds scattered to the east. Choppy seas dotted with whitecaps, slapping against each other in a constant beat. Tanner felt at home here, maybe more than any other place. He wanted that for Troy.
The teen had come out of himself a little bit and was taking in his surroundings as well. Calm. Alert.
Which wasn’t to say he was happy. He wasn’t.
And Christ, Tanner hated that. He wanted to make it better more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Out in the middle of the harbor, he handed over the wheel to Troy.
“Me?” Troy asked, straightening up.
“You,” Tanner said. “You think you’re ready to get us out of the harbor?”
“Yeah.” Troy paused. “Why?”
“Why what? Why are you sometimes a butt-munch?” Tanner shrugged. “No idea.”
Troy bit his lower lip, looking nervous.
“What?” Tanner said.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something. Just say it.”
Troy sighed. “I’m not doing football.”
“I know that.”
“You know?” Troy asked. “Callie told you?”
Tanner blinked. “No, the coach told me. You told Callie?”
“Yeah.”
Tanner stared at him, stuck between being grateful his son had been able to confide in Callie and jealous as hell that it hadn’t been him.
And why hadn’t Callie told him herself?
“It’s not because of the stupid coach’s kid,” Troy said defensively. “It’s because I don’t want to.”
“That’s a relief,” Tanner said.
Troy stared at him. “It’s a relief? You were the football star. I thought you wanted me to follow in your footsteps.”
“Hell no,” Tanner said. “In fact, please don’t follow in my footsteps. You going to tell me about the bruises?”
Troy looked out at the water, his stance natural, easily balancing himself on the choppy water like he’d been born to it. “You wouldn’t get it.”
Tanner let out a low laugh. “Right. Because I’ve never been fifteen.”
“Because you owned that school.” Troy looked at him. “I’m not that kid. I didn’t grow up here. I’m not a star athlete. I’m the new kid. And I’m a little different.”
“Different is good,” Tanner said. “So is standing up for yourself.”
“It’s not like I’m alone,” Troy said. “I have friends.” He met Tanner’s eyes, his own shadowed.