Page 3 of Dangerous Secrets
His gaze went straight to Laney andhis heart gave a hard lurch.
Well, shit.
Time had done nothing to lessen thatkick in the gut seeing her always gave him.He only needed to layeyes on her and the past slammed into him with the force of a semion the highway.
She sat at Pop’s bedside, an open bookin her hands.Her black hair was longer, its loose curls a curtainhanging down her back, and her dark brows arched over eyes ofbrilliant blue.
Then there was that face that hadalways pulled at him, now with dark circles smudging the skin underher eyes.He didn’t know why of all the women on the planet, it wasLaney Bryant who made him feel like she was the part of him thatwas missing.
It was bullshit to think there wasonly one woman who completed you, that you were never whole unlessshe was with you.But there it was.Laney was that woman for him,and he had to live with the fact he’d fucked up any chance ofhaving her a long time ago.
Her gaze snagged his, and after asplit second of what he thought might be the same raw emotion thathad him in a stranglehold, she blinked and her expression turnedremote.
Now she looked at him like somethingthe cat had left for dead on the doormat.She’d never been any goodat hiding her emotions, but she must’ve learned because she wasn’tgiving much away.He turned to the old man lying in a hospital bed,his hair thinner and his frame shrunken, Pop was a hollow shell ofa man.A strong contrast to one who’d always been so big and strongin every way that mattered.
His green eyes reflected recognitionand a faint smile briefly pushed up his weatheredcheeks.
“Pop.”
“I knew you’d comehome.”
Walker could only nod.His grandfatherraised his hand and Walker crossed to the bedside to take it.Smallpurple blooms sat in a vase on a small table, without a doubtbecause Laney had put them there.Walker crouched beside thehospital bed, its steel frame looking out of place amongst the warmtones of the rest of the room’s furnishings.
He bent and kissed his grandfather’sforehead.
Laney rose from her seat and moved tothe door.He thought she’d leave, but Sawyer stoppedher.
He dropped a hand to Laney’s shoulder,his voice low.“Stay.It’ll be soon.”
CHAPTER TWO
Delaney stood on the porchstaring into the night sky where a full moon shone so brightly thetrees cast shadows.A cool breeze had her turning up the collar ofher jacket.She felt she should be doing something, but there wasnothing more to do.There’d be no more feverish searching for onemore treatment that could save James’s life.He no longer neededher to sit at his bedside reading to him.Over the past few months,she’d read to him the classic tales he’d loved as a boy and wantedto hear one more time:Treasure Island,The Hobbit, Johnny Tremain.All the while,there’d been the persistent awareness he was growing ever weaker.In the past few weeks, he’d slept more and had hardlyeaten.
Then a scant four hours ago there’dbeen a change in the air that made her think a storm was brewingover the mountains.She’d looked up from the words on the page tofind the big man standing in the doorway.Her heart felt like itstopped, then jolted to life again.
She’d known he was coming, but stillshock held her frozen.It took only a few brief seconds to absorbthe changes in Walker’s appearance.The shirt drawn tight acrossthe broadly muscled chest, the wide shoulders that seemed like theycarried the weight of the world, the long straight legs that lookedas strong as tree trunks.But the biggest change was the hardenedfeatures of his face that made him look older than his thirty-threeyears.Under the dark beard now sprinkled with gray, his jawappeared locked in place, his expression about as unforgiving asthe granite peaks of the Sierras.
His gaze had zeroed in on hers, darkand unreadable, then with a too-easy flick of dismissal he’dshifted his focus to his grandfather.
When Walker moved to the bed to takethe frail hand James lifted, Delaney had stood to leave to givethem time alone.The image of the old man’s blue-veined handdwarfed in Walker’s wide, square palm had seared onto herbrain.
Sawyer stood near the door and he’ddropped a hand on Delaney’s shoulder to stop her retreat, murmuringin her ear, “Stay.It’ll be soon.”
“No, not yet.”
Her friend’s gaze had remained steadyon hers.She didn’t want it to be time, not yet.She wasn’t ready.But Sawyer was intuitive, always seeming to know what would happenbefore it did, always knowing what to do.
“Pop’s been waiting forhim.It won’t be long now.”
She’d stayed.Her grandmother had comein, Clara’s grief had her gripping Delaney’s hand in a rare show ofcomfort before moving to the seat she’d rarely been absent fromsince they’d brought James home for good.
If for nothing else, Delaney wasgrateful the people who loved James most were at his bedside.She’dtolerate Walker’s presence because that’s what James would want.Well, he’d want her to do more than tolerate his grandson, but somethings were impossible.
Now James was dead.Already Clara hadannounced there’d be a graveside service within the week, and Jameswould be buried in the sleepy cemetery that had served thecommunity for nearly two hundred years.Delaney found some comfortin her grandmother declaring James would be laid to rest in theBryant family plot.
After the funeral, people would comeback to the big house.That’s the way things were done.There’d befood and visiting, and Delaney would have to play nice.Clara hadalready laid down the law.Her granddaughter was to dress andbehave appropriately.
To Clara that meant a dress, makeup,and having actual conversations with people.Her pronouncement hadbeen delivered with a severe look that said Delaney was not allowedto try to escape.
