Saving Sara (Redemption #1) (18 page)

29.

J
ake gave Sara space for a few days.

He knew why she’d given him the brush-off.

Guilt.

The moment he’d told her the truth about why Olly had run away, he’d wished he’d lied. It had been a dumbass move. It wasn’t until he’d hung up that he realized she’d probably blame herself for Olly seeing their kiss and running away. Hell, he’d done it himself.

But he’d been so morose all day, consumed by his own guilt, that he’d needed someone to talk to and she was the only woman he trusted next to Cilla. His aunt had returned from breakfast looking like thunder and he’d figured she’d done enough in finding Olly in the first place, so he hadn’t wanted to burden her.

Rose hadn’t been an option. She had enough going on without him adding his incompetence at caring for her son to the list. She would’ve freaked if she knew Olly had run away.

Sara had seemed like the perfect candidate to talk him down. Instead, he’d only served to bring her down too.

He’d wanted to see her the morning after their kiss. Had planned on taking Olly with him so it wouldn’t be too awkward. But he’d arrived home to the news that Olly had run away and he’d spent the day showering attention on him to reassure him that his words weren’t empty promises and that he would always be there for him.

Olly had seemed fine, with no lingering effects from his ordeal, and it wasn’t until he’d tucked him into bed that Jake called Sara.

It had been four days now. Four days in which she’d probably been beating herself up. He’d respected her wishes in keeping his distance. But he missed her and wanted to know she was okay.

A phone call wouldn’t cut it. She could give him the old
heave
-ho again too easily.

So he packed a container of leftover apple crumble from dinner, checked in on Olly to find him sound asleep, and told Cilla where he’d be.

She didn’t say anything, but a quirk of her eyebrow spoke
volumes
. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss but the fact he was heading over to Sara’s at eight p.m. could be misconstrued.

“Won’t be long,” he said, feeling like a naughty schoolboy sneaking out to neck with his girlfriend.

“Okay.” Cilla returned to her book, lips set in a grim line, like she wanted to say something but was trying hard not to.

He didn’t stick around to hear what that was.

Walking to Sara’s gave him time to mentally rehearse what he’d say. But all that went to crap when she opened the door. She wore cow-print pajama bottoms and a fitted black camisole, and had her hair in pigtails.

She was adorable.

But her frown didn’t scream
welcome
so he turned on the charm.

“I brought you my world-famous apple crumble.” He held out the container with a proud grin. “You haven’t lived ’til you’ve taste
d it.”

“
You
made it?”

She made it sound like he had more chance of manning the next space shuttle than cooking an edible dessert.

“Of course. Would I claim I had if I didn’t?”

The corners of her mouth twitched. An improvement on the disapproving frown. “Maybe not. Thanks for this. I’ll have it later.”

“Not so fast.” He snatched the container out of her reach and held it aloft. “I haven’t had my share yet and I’ve packed enough for two.”

She gestured at her outfit. “I’m not exactly dressed for visitors.”

“I’m a friend, not a visitor, and you could wear a hessian bag and still look gorgeous. So let’s devour this delicious crumble and then you can kick me out.” He semi-pushed his way in and with a resigned sigh she stepped aside.

“You’re very pushy,” she said, closing the door more loudly than necessary.

“So I’ve been told.” He headed for the kitchen, pleased he’d got this far. Once she had a taste of his crumble, she’d be putty in his hands. He hoped.

“How’s Olly?” she asked, setting out bowls and spoons on t
he table.

“Good. Our relationship has actually improved since his
runaway
stunt.” He served the crumble into two bowls. “Made me realize exactly how vulnerable kids can be despite putting on a brav
e face.”

“You know it was our fault,” she said, sitting at the table and tucking one leg underneath her, looking like a forlorn waif.

“I thought that too, initially. Was beating myself up over it, before I had a chat to Olly and realized it was a whole bunch of stuff he’s been bottling up. Mostly over missing his mom.” He handed her a bowl and spoon. “So stop feeling guilty and pushing me away because of it.”

“I’m not,” she said, her gaze shifting away, her lie hollow.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, placing his hand over hers where it rested on the table. “You know that, right?”

“It’s not you I’m afraid of.” She snatched her hand out from under his and picked up a spoon. “I’m not good with getting too close to people these days.”

“I think you’ve been doing just fine.” He pointed at her bowl. “Now get some of that crumble into you and prepare to fall at my feet in gratitude.”

“Better add monstrous ego to your dubious charms,” she said, but at least he’d got a smile out of her.

“You mock, but wait ’til you taste it.”

He watched her spoon a generous helping into her mouth, then wished he hadn’t as her lips curved, reminding him of how soft they’d felt under his. Her rapturous expression wasn’t helping either.

“Wow, you truly are a master,” she said, mumbling between mouthfuls she couldn’t shovel in fast enough. “This is divine.”

“Told you so.” He finished his serving quickly, not tasting much of it as he was fixated on Sara’s mouth. “Seconds?”

She glanced at the empty container. “But there’s nothing left.”

“Who said I’m talking about crumble?”

She laughed and pointed at the door. “Get out.”

“But you look so adorable in those cow PJs—”

“Out. Now.” She playfully whacked him on the arm and he smiled, glad they were back on friendly footing.

“I’ve missed you, you know.” He tried to reach for her but she slipped away, sliding her chair out of reach.

“I haven’t missed you and I haven’t lost sleep over it.”

The faint dark circles under her eyes were testament to that
lie.

“We should go out on a date.”

“Maybe,” she said, sounding less than enthused, her brows knitted in a frown. “Let me get this fair out of the way, then I’ll think about it.”

“My ego is smarting from that resounding endorsement.” Meanwhile, silently, Jake pinned his hopes on the fact she hadn’t refused outright.

Her tentative smile made something squirm in his chest. “Why don’t you take your bruised ego home and let me do some more work before bed.”

“Okay.” When they stood, he swooped in for a kiss, catching her off guard.

He captured her mouth for a few delicious, illicit seconds before she pulled away.

“Go.” She pointed at the door, her stare amused rather than disapproving.

“Yes, Ma’am.” With a wink, he backed away, keeping his gaze locked on hers until he reached the door.

He had a date with Sara to look forward to after the fair.

Life was good.

30.

A
s Sara’s final art class wound to a close and every child except Olly filed out, she came to a startling realization.

She was going to miss this.

Being watched by rapturous faces, being asked inane yet
curious
questions, being surrounded by youthful exuberance, had made her confront the darkness that had consumed her for far too long.

She’d never forget Lucy. She’d grieve for her darling little girl every day of her life. But the motley summer art class at
Redemption
Elementary had made her
feel
again and it wasn’t as painful as s
he’d feared.

“Sara.” Olly tugged at the hem of her smock. “You’re the best teacher ever.”

“Thanks, Olly.” She tweaked the end of his nose. “And you’re a talented artist.”

“Really?” He fairly glowed with her praise as he cast a
critical
eye at the crayon sketch he’d completed. “But I just draw stuff.
I don’t bur
n wood like you do.”

“There are many different types of art,” she said, pointing to a stack of books on Andy Symes’s desk. “Writers are artists. They paint pictures with words.”

“I guess so.” He looked skeptical. “Drawing stuff is more fu
n though.”

“I think so too. Want to help me pack up?”

“Yeah, though doing art is more fun than packing up.”

She laughed. “There’s not much to do.”

They worked alongside each other, putting away supplies and wiping down tables. Sara couldn’t help but surreptitiously watch Olly, taking delight in his earnestness as he completed every task she set him.

He was one cute kid and she’d miss him when he left. Jake hadn’t mentioned how Olly’s mom was doing but she hoped for Olly’s sake they’d be reunited soon. Children needed their moms.

“You’re looking at me funny.” Olly frowned. “Did I do
something
wrong?”

Busted.

Sara banished the image of Lucy that still popped into her head whenever she was around a sweet kid like Olly and forced a smile. “I’m looking at you funny because you’ve done an amazing job helping me clean up.”

“Cool.” He sat on the edge of a desk, legs swinging. “Are you coming to the fair with us?”

Sara had no intention of embarking on a family-like excursion with Jake and Olly, despite Jake’s reassurances that Olly was okay after his runaway episode. She couldn’t handle being responsible if Olly did something again because of her.

“I’ll be at the fair, so I’ll see you there.”

Olly shrugged. “Okay. But if you don’t come with us, Uncle Jake won’t buy you popcorn and candy floss and corndogs like he promised me.”

She smiled. “If I eat all that stuff, I might get a sore tummy.”

His face crinkled in consternation. “I don’t want to get a so
re tummy.”

“You’ll be fine. Just don’t eat too much.” Wow, she was
seriously
out of practice at talking one-on-one with kids. She’d tried to lecture Olly on the dangers of too much junk food rather than conveying a gentle warning. A real damper on his excitement.

“Don’t eat too much what?” Jake sauntered into the classroom, immediately dwarfing it with his presence, and Sara couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered when he looked at her with that
irresistible
mix of cheek and charm.

“Sara isn’t coming with us to the fair, Uncle Jake, because she’ll get a sore tummy if we give her too many treats.” Olly rubbed his stomach. “But I’m fine so maybe I can eat her share?”

Jake laughed. “The secret to having a good day at the fair is to pace yourself, buddy. Not eating too much at once.”

“I guess.” Olly slid off the desk. “Is it okay if I go play with some of the other kids outside for a while?”

Jake hesitated and Sara knew why. After last week’s stunt, he didn’t want to let Olly out of his sight.

“I can see the kids in the playground from here,” Sara said, pointing at the window and trying to allay Jake’s concern about keeping an unobtrusive eye on him.

“Sure. Have fun,” Jake said, shooting her a grateful glance.

Not until Olly had run out the door did Sara realize that maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to foster Olly’s desire for play
outside
.

Because it left her alone with Jake inside.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, stalking toward her. Too big. Too gorgeous. Too everything.

“Told you I’d be busy with prepping for the fair.” She took a step backward and her butt hit the edge of the desk.

With Jake invading her personal space, she had nowhere to go. Not a total downer, when she felt the heat radiating off him, when she inhaled his unique masculine scent.

“What’s going to be your excuse when the fair’s all done
tomorrow
?”

“I’ll think of something,” she said, unable to resist poking him in the chest when he mock staggered a little.

“You can’t keep pushing me away forever.” His smile faded as he snagged her hand. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Why?” She wished her heart would stop pounding so darn loud so she could hear him better. Then again, did she really w
ant to?

She didn’t need Jake articulating reasons why they should go on a date. All the convincing arguments in the world wouldn’t get her to change her mind. Getting attached to Jake—and Olly—could only end badly.

He stared at her for an eternity, his eyes trying to convey a
message
she had no hope of interpreting. He looked . . . haunted. A feeling she could empathize with.

“Because for the first time since the accident I feel like letting someone in,” he blurted, before clamping his lips shut and taking a few steps back, his expression tortured.

“The accident?” Sara had to ask, despite his hunched shoulders and closed-off posture screaming that he’d said something he
regretted
.

A memory tugged at the edge of her consciousness. The day they’d been scouting fair locations, he’d looked sad and when she’d questioned him he’d joked about revealing their pasts one day ov
er tequila.

Looked like she wasn’t the only one whose past hid a wealth o
f pain.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“I killed eighty-nine people,” he said, his expression bleak. “I was an aircraft mechanic. Tired on the job one day. Had a gut feeling something wasn’t right but ignored it. Went by the book as usual. Did routine final checks. Cleared a plane to fly. And i
t crashed.”

His tone sounded so desolate, so bleak, she wanted to hug him. She remembered a commercial liner going down about eight months ago, but had switched off the news like she did most days. She had enough heartache in her life without adding to it.

“Aviation investigation cleared me but the guilt sits here,” he thumped his chest, “and I live with it every frigging day.”

Sara wanted to say “It’s not your fault,” wanted to take away his pain. But she’d never been one for trite platitudes, not after the many she’d endured following Lucy’s death, so she settled for
wrapping
her arms around his waist and squeezing tight.

She’d done it instinctively, to comfort him, knowing all the hugs in the world wouldn’t eradicate guilt but hoping it would help.

His arms came around her and they remained that way until Andy barged through the door and cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but most of the kids outside are being picked up by their parents and Olly’s waiting.”

Sara eased out of Jake’s arms. “Thanks, Andy. We’ll be there in a sec.”

“Right.” Andy fled, obviously aware of the tension in the room.

Sara touched Jake’s cheek. “Thanks for opening up to me. We’ll talk later?”

“Yeah.” Jake scrubbed a hand over his face. “I promise not to be such a killjoy next time.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” She took a deep breath, knowing she’d have to reveal a small hidden part of her to make him feel better. “I get it. I locked myself away physically and emotionally from everyone for over a year. Then I came here, and you and Olly and Cilla have given me hope.” She blew out a breath. “Hope that I won’t fall apart if I get close to anyone again and they walk away.”

Understanding lit his eyes. “That’s why you won’t let me and Olly get too close, isn’t it? Because we’ll be leaving at some point?”

There was so much more to it, but for now, she nodded. “Self-preservation has been the only way I could handle the grief.”

“I won’t hurt you.” He cupped her face, eyeballing her.

“Not intentionally, but I don’t think I’m up for something fleeting.” She eased out of his hands. “I’m not built that way.”

He glanced out the window, a worry line bisecting his brows. “I’ve really got to go get Olly, so can I pop around tonight to carry on this discussion?”

Part of Sara wanted to hear what Jake had to say, wanted to see behind the tough-guy mask that hid inner depths she suspected lurked beneath the bravado. But that would contradict what she’d just said, and she had no intention of sending mixed messages to complicate an already fraught situation.

Her reluctance must’ve shown, because he rushed on.

“We can have a good friendship without the other stuff
complicating
it, if that’s what you want,” he said. “A friendship that can last beyond the time I’m in Redemption.”

His sincerity settled it. Jake was right. She felt closer to him than any of the so-called friends she’d known for years, friends who rarely contacted her these days because they didn’t know what to say or alternated between pussyfooting and false perkiness.

She could use a friend like him in her life.

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight at my place.”

“Great.” He pecked her cheek and headed for the door, taking a tiny piece of her heart with him.

It had been tough keeping Jake at bay when he’d been a sweet charmer. Now that he had flaws and vulnerabilities and wasn’t afraid to admit them?

It would be darn near impossible.