Covering Home (29 page)

Britt stared after him in stunned silence. Tears blurred her vision as she jogged to the car. She started the engine, jammed the gear shift into reverse, and backed down the driveway. Swiping her knuckles across her cheeks, she stole a final glance at his house. But there wasn’t any evidence that he might come after her. She drove back to the gated entrance.

Purple, angry clouds had rolled in, blotting out the sun. By the time she hit the interstate, torrential rain pounded her windshield. A storm to match her heartbreak, how appropriate. The visibility was so poor, she wanted to call someone to talk her through the drive. But what would she say? That she’d completely botched a meaningful relationship? Big shocker there.

Standing in line at the ticket counter, emotionally spent and exhausted from the long slog back to the airport, Britt bought the last seat on a flight bound for San Francisco.

It wasn’t where she wanted to go. It meant facing Dad and Allison while they told her all the ways she’d mismanaged this and the steps she needed to take to make things right. While she rode the train toward her departure gate, a fresh wave of tears fell again. It didn’t seem like there was a way to make this right. Caleb was finished. He’d made that clear. There was nothing left to do but try and forget him.

Caleb rose from the couch and carried his half-finished bowl of cereal to the sink. Dumping the mushy Cheerios and last few sips of milk down the drain, he turned on the water and rinsed the bowl. Mom had offered to cook a few meals for him so he’d have a well-stocked freezer, but he couldn’t ask her to do that. She’d already washed a load of sheets and towels, made his bed and unpacked most of the kitchen. Besides, after his encounter with Britt, he wasn’t hungry, anyway.

Jimmy Kimmel Live
returned after a commercial and he washed the bowl and spoon before he settled back on the couch to watch Jimmy’s first guest. He should get some sleep, but he hated his first night alone in a new place. With Mom and his brothers here, it hadn’t felt so lonely. But now it was just another place to store his stuff. A rental house really wasn’t much better than a hotel when he didn’t have anyone to share it with.
Like Britt.

He rubbed his forehead. When he first saw her get out of the car, he’d wanted to run and scoop her into his arms,relieved and overjoyed that nothing separated

them. But then she’d tried to pick up like nothing had happened. Something snapped. He’d gone through a major transition and wanted her to be there for him. Instead, she’d waited until her
boss
told her to visit. He huffed out a breath, the hurt and anger welling up within. It was too little, too late. He couldn’t be with someone who treated him like an afterthought.

His phone chimed on the cushion beside him. He glanced at the screen and groaned out loud.
Ben.

We’re home, safe and sound. Lousy storms on I-25, though. How’d things go tonight?

Caleb thought about ignoring Ben’s text, but he knew his brother wouldn’t give up until he had an update.

I told her it was over. She left a few minutes after you guys did.

He hit the send button and held his breath. One, Mississippi, two, Mississippi, three, Mississippi—

His phone started ringing. Yep, he knew that was coming. “Hello?”

“You’re an idiot,” Ben growled.

“Dude, you don’t even know what happened.” Caleb dug the remote out of the couch cushions and clicked off the television.

“I don’t need to know. You’re still an idiot.”

“It’s about self-preservation, man. I’m not going to let her waltz back into my life after she’s ignored me for a week straight. I think she just wanted to finish the interviews we started in Japan.”

“Oh, my gosh,” Ben said. “If I could reach through that phone right now, I’d smack you upside the head. Tell me you didn’t say that to her.”

“Well, not exactly. I—”

“Are you really that vain?”

“Is she really that shallow?”

Ben sighed. “You’re unbelievably self-centered, you know that?”

“Well, excuse me for protecting myself. No one else is.” Caleb got up from the couch and paced the hardwoods from the fireplace to the kitchen stove and back again.

“Here we go, playing the victim card.”

“I’m not a victim,” Caleb almost shouted into the phone. Why didn’t Ben get it?

“If you’re not a victim, then what’s stopping you from going after her?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Caleb mumbled. “Besides, I’m too angry.”

“No, you’re too stubborn. I can’t believe you screwed this up.”

“Me?” Caleb touched his hand to his chest. “She’s the one that ran out of that coffee shop and never looked back. If she really cared, she would’ve made some sort of effort before today.”

“Maybe she was scared. Overwhelmed. Did you ever think of that?” Ben asked.

Caleb closed his eyes. “That still didn’t change the fact that I’m not interested in having a relationship with someone who—”

“Who acts just like you?”

Caleb bit back a snide reply. “Dude, what is up with you? Why do you care so much?”

“Because I’m your brother, stupid, and I want you to be happy.”

“Well, I think I’d be happy if you backed off. Let it go.”

“You don’t mean that. I’m not going to let you give up this easy.”

Caleb groaned. This was exhausting. He didn’t want to give up, either. But somehow he had to make a fresh start here in Colorado. The only way he knew how to do that was to chase Britt Bowen from his thoughts. Forever.

Chapter Thirty-One

Britt waited on the slate steps in front of the house while Hughes unloaded her suitcase from the back of the Lincoln Town Car. He extended the telescoping handle and wheeled it toward her.

“There you go, Miss Brittany.” He smiled, leaning the handle toward her. Concern clouded his gray eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“Of course.” She forced a bright smile. “I’m a big girl, Hughes. Dad lets me stay home alone now.”

Hughes frowned and checked his watch. The late afternoon sun illuminated him from behind, making his spiky gray hair glow silver. In his short-sleeved, tight black button-down and gray slacks, he looked more like a rock star than her father’s personal driver.

“Can I bring you something to eat? Your dad’s in a meeting at Bocci. Grace isn’t here anymore.”

Britt’s mouth watered at the name of their favorite restaurant. Bocci’s lobster ravioli was to die for. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I can guarantee there’s nothing in that refrigerator.”

The reality of his words settled around her. She’d forgotten for a minute that Grace had retired. Running home seemed a lot less appealing now that she knew she’d rattle around all alone. Who would fix her peanut butter toast and listen to her troubles?

“Miss Brittany? Chinese take-out? A burger?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and fumbled for her keys. “Really, I’m fine. But thank you.”

“Any time.” He walked backward toward the car. “Text me if you change your mind.”

“Thank you for the ride.”

“My pleasure.” He got behind the wheel and maneuvered the car down the circular driveway and through the wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to her family’s home.

Britt inserted her key into the lock and turned it. The deadbolt released and she pressed the lever, pushing open the massive front door with its leaded glass panes. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the marble floor in the entryway while the wheels on her suitcase bumped over the threshold.

She toed off her shoes and listened to the silence of a massive, empty house. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the silence during Easter. Probably because there wasn’t any. Kristi and Lucas’s children filled the whole place with their racket.

Slipping in her socks, she made her way to the kitchen. Everything gleamed spotless … and probably unused. Dad obviously employed a cleaning service, because there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. But the whole place lacked any evidence of Grace’s loving care. Gone was her familiar presence—holding court at the second sink in the island, teaching Britt how to trim the flower stems and make a gorgeous arrangement. Or hovering over the Viking range while she boiled chicken bones to make her own broth.

Britt drew in a deep breath, hoping to capture a hint of Grace’s signature scent. Huh. Nothing. It smelled like vinegar now.

How sad. Although Grace definitely deserved an enjoyable retirement, life without her in the house wasn’t going to be the same. Britt wandered into the butler’s pantry and looked around. Maybe she should’ve stayed in Newark. At least there weren’t any memories there—because she hadn’t bothered to create any. She located a partial loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and carried them to the counter. Thank goodness her nieces and nephews still came and visited or there wouldn’t be anything edible in the house at all.

Finding the toaster took some work. She opened and closed three cabinet doors. On the fourth try, she discovered it behind the food processor. That wasn’t where it belonged. Grace liked it stowed under the silverware drawer. Unwinding the cord, Britt set the stainless steel appliance on the counter and plugged it in. The bread was fresh and she popped two slices into the toaster. Once the coils lit up, she went to the refrigerator, Hughes’s prediction echoing in her head.

Sure enough, it looked pretty bleak. A couple of eggs, some half and half, a quart of skim milk, and a box of baking soda. What was Dad eating these days? She settled on a bottle of Voss water from the collection in the door. When her toast was ready, she slathered it with peanut butter and carried the plate upstairs, water tucked under her arm.

Britt paused in the doorway of her old bedroom, taking it all in. Although she’d emptied it of her essential belongings, it still looked like a shrine to her childhood. The most prized possessions remained—untouched. She went in, abandoning her toast and the bottled water, sinking cross-legged on the carpeted floor

in front of the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. A whole row of scrapbooks lined the lowest shelf, spines out and labeled with the years they memorialized.

She walked her fingers across the top bindings, searching for her favorite. 1984. Four years before her birth. She wasn’t even thought of yet. Lucas was just a baby. Opening the cover, Britt studied the first few pages. Photos where Mom held Lucas, or any baby, always caught her eye. She absorbed every detail, trying to imagine what it would’ve felt like to have those arms around her. Smoothing back
her
hair for a goodnight kiss, helping
her
step into a dress or a dance leotard. Allison and Grace both tried dutifully to fill those empty spaces, that unspeakable yet cavernous void Britt learned to live with. How could you miss something you never even had?

She closed the album and selected another. This one was filled with pictures of family events. Lucas was a toddler now. The pages archived birthday parties, trips to the beach, Allison and Trent learning to ski in Colorado. Of course, all five of them together at the baseball field. Britt stared at a shot of all three kids posing with Nolan Ryan in his Texas Rangers uniform. She’d forgotten he and Dad were friends. The last page was one of Mom and Dad, all dressed up for a formal event. Tears splashed on the pages and Britt wiped them away with the hem of her T-shirt.

“I miss you, Mom. I wish you were here. I could use some advice. Woman to woman and all that. I’ve tried to make you proud. But this time, I think I messed up.”

“She loved you, you know.”

Britt shrieked and whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest. Dad stood in the doorway, his

eyes moist. Although he looked impeccable in his slacks and dress shirt, his features were haggard.

“Dad.” Britt swiped at her cheeks with her hands. “What are you doing here?”

He came in and sat on the end of Britt’s bed, crossing one long leg over the other. “Hughes told me he delivered you to an empty house. I think he was worried. Looks like he had cause for concern.”

Hughes. Always vigilant. Britt closed the book and re-shelved it. “I’m sorry I took her away from all of you.”

“Your mother? Don’t be ridiculous. It was a terrible, unfortunate event. Nobody knows why she hemorrhaged like that.”

“But if you hadn’t had me, your surprise baby, she’d still be here.” Britt insisted, rising to her feet.

Dad patted the bed beside him. “Let me tell you something. Your mom and I were so thrilled when we found out we were going to have another baby.”

Britt eased onto the purple comforter next to him.

Dad smiled and cleared his throat. “She held you right away, kissed you about a dozen times. She said you were our little blessing from above. Did you—think we didn’t
want
you?”

“You’ve always pushed me toward something but away from you,” Britt whispered.

“Dance, cheerleading, baseball … broadcasting. I started to think maybe I was just a painful reminder of what you’d lost.”

“Sweetie, I’ll say this as delicately as possible. You begged to do all of those things.