Here For You, page 6
“Oh, I get it. You wanna see my dog, not me.” He chuckled. “I left her with Hunter.” Chris peered at his mom. “Was there a specific reason you wanted to see me? You only got rid of me yesterday.”
Mom’s gaze flickered to Dad, and just like that, Chris knew this was serious.
“Have you given any thought to staying in Saugatuck? You know, moving back here?” Dad asked as he joined Chris at the table.
Chris had known this was coming, known it as soon as he’d stepped through that door. Not that he blamed them. But as for coming home... His stomach clenched. I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.
“Do you want to stay in Chicago? Is that it?” Mom gazed at him, wringing her hands.
Oh hell.
“I like Chicago,” he said at last. “I have a nice apartment, a good job, but...” He sighed heavily. “I’ve been thinking of home a lot recently.”
“Well then.” Mom rested her flour-covered hands on the rim of the bowl. “You’ve taken the first step. You’ve come home. So why not stay?”
As if it was that easy. “And do what? It’s not like when I was a kid, and Dad paid me to do jobs for him.” He grinned. “My rates have gone up since then.” Dad snickered at that.
“Can’t you do here what you do in Chicago?” Mom asked.
For a moment, Chris was lost. “What—train service dogs? I can’t see there being much demand for that in Saugatuck.”
Mom gave him an impatient stare. “No, I meant be a dog trainer. I bumped into Mrs. Reynard last night. She was so appreciative of whatever you did with Baxter.”
Chris laughed. “That’s one dog, Mom.”
“Yes, but there are lots of dogs in Saugatuck. Think about it.” Her eyes sparkled.
Chris hated to burst her bubble, but it had to be done. “Setting up a business requires capital. Premises. It’s a good idea, but it’s just not feasible.”
“Is that why you wanted to see Chris?” Dad demanded. “To find out if he’d consider setting up a business here? I could’ve told you what he’d say, because he’s right. I want him back home as much as you do, but—”
“So what you’re both telling me is Chris doesn’t have the money to start a business here.” Mom resumed her task of rubbing fat into flour. “Okay. I’ll consider myself told.”
The sight of her back, so stiff, and her resigned tone, tugged at Chris’s heart.
He’d always loved Saugatuck. He’d never envisaged leaving, just like Hunter. He’d hated running away like he did, and a day hadn’t gone by since then when he hadn’t pictured his former friends and neighbors eyeing him with disgust and anger.
Chris had never intended on returning to Saugatuck. It had taken the news of the fire and Hunter’s involvement to drag him back, only to find reality was nothing like he’d expected.
The truth? He would come back for good in a heartbeat, but not unless Hunter was okay with it.
Everything hinged on Hunter.
Chapter Eight
“Chris! Wait up!”
Chris came to a halt outside the Blue Wildwood jewelry store, and turned around. Rachel Dietz was running toward him. He waited for her to catch up, inwardly groaning. He did not want to talk to Rachel, but ignoring her was just plain rude.
“Hey.”
She panted a little. “I think I’m outta shape.”
“What can I do for you?” Beside him, Lucy sat on the sidewalk, patient as always.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you yesterday, when you were having lunch with Cally.” Her eyes sparkled. “I have to admit, seeing the two of you chatting away like bosom buddies was kinda surprising, given your... history.”
“What can I say? Cally’s an exceptional person.”
That sparkle was still there. “Yeah, well, she must be. I mean, what you did to her was just awful.”
Chris wasn’t about to take any shit from Rachel, whose malicious tongue had in all probability caused more heartache over the years than he could possibly imagine. He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not about to disagree with you. But seeing as the person on the receiving end of my actions has forgiven and forgotten, I don’t see why anyone else should take a swipe at me for what I did.” He looked Rachel in the eye. “You said it yourself. What I did to her. Cally is the one I treated badly, Cally and her family. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Rachel swallowed. “Well, sure, but—”
“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be going. See you, Rachel.” Without waiting for her to respond, Chris walked up Hoffman Street and took a right turn onto Butler Street, his heart pounding. He ignored the tourists peering into store windows, focusing instead on the street with its canopy of leaves, through which a gentle breeze wafted. Chris relished the feel of it on his skin.
Damn her. He wasn’t fool enough to think someone wouldn’t have a go at him, especially after Steve’s less than cordial greeting, but Cally had given him hope that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he’d anticipated.
Then he reconsidered. He’d been fortunate. The looks he’d gotten so far had been ones of surprise and pleasant recognition, apart from Steve and Mr. Torrance, and Mr. Torrance was only pissed because he’d always had a soft spot for Cally, ever since she was a little girl. And why am I even paying attention to Rachel, for Christ’s sake? Miss Motormouth, 2011? The thought made him smile. It had been Hunter who’d come up with that, back when they were graduating high school. He’d joked that it should have been printed under her name in the yearbook.
I guess no one changes, not really.
Except Chris had. He’d gotten older and wiser—which wasn’t saying much at the grand old age of twenty-six—and he’d realized he’d been an asshole. That was why he was back in Saugatuck—to make amends. And with Cally’s interventions, he could achieve that goal.
With one important exception.
Hunter looked as if he wasn’t going to budge. In his mind, Chris was obviously still the asshole. And there seemed little Chris could do to change Hunter’s mind on that.
He approached Hunter’s house with trepidation. “What kind of mood is he gonna be in, girl?” he said, keeping his voice low.
Lucy sped up as they walked toward the front door.
She’s more eager to face him than I am.
Chris let himself into the house. “Hunter?” He unclipped Lucy’s harness and hung up her leash. When he got no response, he wandered through the rooms to the rear. He peered through the windows. Hunter was kneeling on the deck beside a raised flower bed, pulling up weeds and tossing them into a pile beside him. Chris rapped on the glass and Hunter gave a start. He gestured to Chris to join him.
Chris stepped out onto the deck. He had no idea how much of it was Hunter’s handiwork, but it was a great space. A rectangular table inlaid with ceramic tiles and surrounded by six chairs, provided the focal point. Three steps led down to the rear of the garden, which was paved in stone. Four padded, comfortable-looking chairs were laid out in a square, with a fire pit at their center. Off to the right was a barbecue. Trees grew up the bank to the right of the yard, providing shade.
“This is so cool.” Chris walked over to where Hunter knelt. Lucy got busy examining the bank of ivy and other overgrown plants, her nose twitching.
“I can’t take the credit for it,” Hunter commented, his focus on a stubborn weed. “It was like this when I bought it. All I did was buy the furniture.” He glanced at Chris, then resumed his task. “Your folks okay?”
“They’re fine. They send their best wishes.” That much was true. Mom had repeated that part several times.
Hunter nodded, taking a small fork to the weed. “I like your mom. She always says hi when she sees me.”
“Should you be gardening?” From where Chris stood, it looked as if Hunter was wincing.
Hunter flung the garden fork into the bed and got to his feet. “I have to get used to doing stuff around here again. Besides, a little weeding won’t kill me. I was just about to make coffee if you’re interested.” He peered at his nails and grimaced. “Once I’ve cleaned up.”
“There’s this wonderful new invention,” Chris told him as they went back into the house. “They’re called ‘gardening gloves.’ Some people swear by them.”
Hunter snorted. “My dad always said real men don’t wear gloves. He never did.”
“Yeah, because your mom did the gardening.”
At the sink, Hunter attacked his hands with soap and a nailbrush. “Now that you mention it...” He gave Chris an inquiring glance. “Have you got anything planned for this afternoon?”
“Not at the moment.”
Hunter inclined his head toward the back yard. “I need to retreat the deck, and if the two of us did it, we could have it completed by dinner time.”
Chris could do that. “I’ll just lock Lucy in the house. I don’t want her getting that stuff all over her paws.”
Hunter snickered. “I can see it now. Paw prints on my floors.” He gazed at Chris. “Is that a yes?”
Chris nodded. He told himself the physical activity would do him good, pushing from his mind the thought of working in close proximity to Hunter for an afternoon.
Talk about torture.
After half an hour of staring at the TV screen and not taking in any of it, Chris gave in. Hunter had been quiet all evening, his feet propped up on the coffee table, a magazine spread out in his lap. Not that Chris was sure he was actually reading it. He hadn’t turned the page in a while.
Fuck it. Chris had had enough of silence.
He cleared his throat. “That article must be riveting.”
Hunter raised his head. “Hm?”
“That article. You must have re-read it a few times in the last half hour.”
“I must be really tired,” Hunter said with a sigh. “I keep having to read sentences over and over again to take them in.”
Chris picked up the remote, aimed it at the TV, and hit the standby button. When Hunter stared at him, Chris wagged a finger. “And don’t try to tell me you were watching that, because neither of us were. I think it’s time to call it a night.”
Hunter expelled a breath. “Maybe you’re right.” He closed the magazine and hoisted himself up off the couch. “You go on up. I’ll secure things down here.”
Chris said goodnight, then patted his leg. “Come on, girl. Bedtime.”
Lucy uncurled herself and followed him out of the room. She trotted up the stairs ahead of him, her nails clicking on the wood. When they were inside his room, Chris closed the door and sighed heavily.
“Well, I got a lot accomplished tonight, didn’t I?” So much for wanting to engage Hunter in conversation. Hunter had hidden behind the pretense of reading, and Chris knew it.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
It had to be.
Chris had no idea what had awoken him. He lay in the darkness, listening for the slightest noise. All he could hear was Lucy, whimpering.
He sat up in bed and switched on the lamp. “What’s wrong, girl?” She was standing by the bedroom door, pawing at it. Chris threw back the sheets and got out of bed. “Do you need to go outside? Is that it?” He squirmed into his jeans. “Gimme a sec.”
Lucy didn’t move from her position, but turned her head to look at him, still whimpering. Chris opened the door and she was through it in a heartbeat, but instead of going downstairs, she went straight to Hunter’s room. Lucy pawed at it, her whimpers increasing.
Chris’s pulse quickened. He pushed the door open and went inside, Lucy surging ahead of him.
Hunter was in bed, and even with the dim light filtering through the blinds, Chris could make out the glisten of sweat on his chest. He was tossing and turning, tortured moans falling from his lips.
Lucy raced to the bed and jumped up, the front of her body covering Hunter’s abs. Chris crossed the floor and placed a hand on Hunter’s shoulder.
“Hey.” Chris kept his voice soft, so as not to startle him. When Hunter didn’t react, Chris gave him a gentle shake. “Hunter. Wake up.” Lucy didn’t move, her nose on his chest. Chris switched on the lamp beside the bed.
Hunter gave a start and his eyes popped open, tremors coursing through his sweat-covered body. He stared at Chris as though he didn’t recognize him, then lowered his gaze to where Lucy laid her weight on him. He drew in a couple of deep breaths, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Chris stroked his shoulder. “You okay there? It looked like you were having a nightmare.”
Hunter shivered. “It’s not the first. Not by a long shot.”
Chris sniffed up, catching the smell of alcohol. An empty glass sat on the nightstand. Another nightcap that doesn’t seem to have worked.
Hunter stroked Lucy’s head. She hadn’t moved, the front of her body still covering his abs. “You trying to drive away my bad dreams, girl?”
Chris had his own ideas why Lucy had reacted the way she did, but this was not the time. “How about I go downstairs and make us some tea?” He was wide awake, and Hunter looked as if he could use some tea. His hand shook as he stroked Lucy.
Hunter nodded. “Tea sounds good.” He glanced at Lucy. “Except I appear to be wearing your dog.” It didn’t sound like a complaint.
Chris patted her back. “Okay, Luce, let him up.”
Lucy dropped back to the floor, but stayed near as Hunter got out of bed. He reached for his T-shirt from a nearby chair and pulled it over his head. Chris waited for Hunter to leave the room before following him. They went downstairs, and Hunter headed for the kitchen.
“I think I’ve got peppermint, and chamomile.”
Chris filled the kettle that sat on the stove. “You sit down. I’ll deal with the tea.” Chris pulled out a chair for him, noting that Lucy hadn’t moved from Hunter’s side. Good girl. Hunter was pale, and the tremors that had shaken him upstairs hadn’t entirely gone. His hands trembled as he reached down to pet Lucy. She leaned against his leg, her nose on his thigh, and he stroked her with a gentle hand.
Chris prepared two mugs of chamomile tea and brought them to the table. “So... do you wanna talk about the nightmare?”
“Not really.”
“Have you had it before?”
Hunter shivered. “Not this one.” He sipped his tea.
Chris knew he couldn’t leave it there. “It might help to tell someone about it,” he said, his voice low. When Hunter didn’t respond, Chris peered at him. “Was it about... the fire?”
Hunter jerked his head up, staring at him. Then he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me about the fire? All I know is that you saved a kid’s life.”
Hunter swallowed. “I haven’t talked about it much, apart from when I gave my statement to the police after it happened.”
“Then maybe telling me is a good idea.” Chris drank a little of his tea, waiting for Hunter to make the next move. Chris wasn’t about to push him any more than that.
Hunter said nothing for several minutes, sharing his attention between his mug and Lucy. Eventually, he shuddered out a long breath. “A fire broke out at a guest house over on Main Street. We thought we’d gotten everyone out. I’d checked all the rooms on the second floor, and there was no one left in them.” He paused to sip his tea, his hand shaking.
Chris said nothing.
“Then this woman started screaming that she couldn’t find her little boy. I told her he had to be outside because I hadn’t seen him.” Hunter shuddered. “I swear, Chris, she went as white as a sheet. She asked me if I’d checked the closet, because he had a habit of sleepwalking, and often at home that’s where she’d find him in the mornings. So... I dove back in there, even though David—he’s the fire chief—told me it was too dangerous. I got up the stairs somehow, and into the room. The kid was in the closet all right. He was unconscious. I scooped him up and headed for the door. But by then the fire was blocking my exit, and I couldn’t get out. There was only one way out—via the veranda.”
“You had to jump from the second floor?” That explained the broken collarbone.
Hunter nodded. “I held him against me to protect him, and then I jumped.”
“You saved his life.”
He scowled. “Sure. The smoke left his lungs permanently damaged, and he was in a coma for weeks.”
“But he’s out of it now?”
Hunter sighed. “Yeah. The prognosis isn’t so good, but yeah, he’s alive.”
“You said you hadn’t had this nightmare before. What happened in this one?”
He swallowed. “I couldn’t open the goddamn closet door. I had to take an ax to it.” He took a long drink from his mug. “The nightmares are always about the fire, but they’re all different. Sometimes the kid dies. Sometimes I’m the one who buys it. Sometimes I’m running from room to room, and it’s like I’m in a loop. I always end up in the same place, knowing there are more rooms in the house but not being able to reach them. And sometimes it’s like in that old horror movie, Poltergeist. I’m standing at the end of a long hallway, and I can see the door. But when I run toward it, the hallway just gets longer and longer, and I can never reach it.” He expelled a long breath. “If only I’d looked in that goddamn closet.”
Now Chris got it. The nightmares clearly stemmed from a sense of guilt.
“It’s not your fault,” Chris told him. “You checked all the rooms. You didn’t know about his sleepwalking habit. How could you? But you went back in there for him, knowing it was dangerous.”
“It’s my job, right?” Hunter stared at him with anguished eyes. “And I blew it.”
Chris knew there was nothing he could say to alleviate Hunter’s feelings of guilt. That would take time. But at least he’d opened up about the fire.
“Doesn’t it feel better to talk about it?”
Hunter stared into his mug, as though mentally assessing Chris’s question. At last he nodded. “You were right. I haven’t even told Cally about it. Why would I? She’s got enough to think about right now. I don’t want her worrying about me.”
“Well, I’m a good listener.” Chris smiled. “Is there anything else you wanna talk about while you’ve got me as a captive audience?”
