Lie to Me (5 page)

“I can play ball with you,” Damian said, suddenly feeling the enormity of the job ahead, but relishing it. This little boy would be his salvation. He couldn’t have Casey back, but he’d never let go of his son. “What are you good at?”

“I’m really good at art. Everyone says so.” He perked up, even smiling.

Ah, the art gene. Damian could draw pretty well himself, and Alex was becoming a well-known artist.

“Will you draw me a picture, Miles? I’d like to hang it in my room.”

Miles’ face lit up, the intensity shocking Damian and filling him with love. His child jumped off his lap, his buttocks landing on Damian’s aching leg, but Damian bit back the stinging pain. “I’ll get some paper and a pencil and make you a sketch,” Miles said, and he took off. Damian stared after him, wondering how he could have lived without his precious little boy.

The atmosphere improved a little when Miles returned with a sketchpad and pencil. The boy sat beside him, allowing Damian to put his arm around him. Damian was impressed with Miles’ artistic skills. He sketched a jungle scene, concentrating hard. After about ten minutes, he put his pencil down, looked up at him and said, “I need a break.”

“Sure.”

“Well, I need to talk to you about Mom.” Suddenly, he spoke in a conspirator’s whisper and Damian instantly put on a serious face for him.

“What is it?” he asked, patting him on the shoulder.

Miles’ blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if I like you yet, but Mom does. Please don’t ever go away again. It’ll make Mom sad, and I don’t like that.”

Damian froze. His son had just ripped his heart out of his chest. “No. Mom will be fine,” he heard himself saying.

“Uh uh. Not if you go.” Miles sounded firm. “Mom still loves you.”

He didn’t want to know, but heard himself asking, “Why do you say that? Because—she used to call out my name after the accident? Miles, that was different—”

“No. That’s not all.” Miles pinned his gaze, square on. “She kept your stupid good-bye letter and reads it and cries in her room. Sometimes she leaves the door open just a crack and I can see. And she looks at your picture and cries too. She even kisses it and holds it by her heart.”

“Wow.”
Too much information.
He felt as if a knife had just plunged into his abdomen.

“Why don’t we be a real family again?” Miles asked. “This time you won’t drink and we can all be happy.”

Damian swallowed hard as his head reeled. He only wished it could happen. “Pal, that’s one thing I don’t want you to think about. Mom and I are over forever.”

“Nope. I don’t believe that. You should marry her again.”

What could he say? He was just about to try when the door opened and Casey stepped into the apartment, her face and nose reddened by the wind.

She looked otherworldly gorgeous, in his eyes, and his throat contracted as he thought about what Miles had just told him. Love filled his emptiness. He tried to grin at her, and hoped it looked natural. “Hi, Case. Miles is drawing me a picture. He’s quite a gifted artist.”

Somehow he’d managed to sound nonchalant.

Chapter Three

Casey didn’t respond to Damian’s grin. Her jaw dropped as she gaped at the scene of Miles sitting happily next to Damian, his elbow resting on Damian’s thigh. She kicked the door shut behind her and continued to stare.

Miles flashed her a smile. “You know what, Mom?” he said, in a bright voice. “You were right. Dad doesn’t seem as bad as I expected.”

Later, after Miles snuggled up in Damian’s arms and fell asleep, he carried his son to bed. Casey followed, still in shock at how well the meeting had gone. She watched Damian remove his son’s socks, and then sit on the edge of the bed smiling down at him for several minutes before covering him with a blanket. Finally, he kissed his son on the forehead and Miles smiled in his sleep. Casey felt a lump in her throat.

When they left the bedroom, Damian strode over to the sofa, grabbed his leather jacket, and slid it on.

“Not so fast.” Casey couldn’t believe he’d leave without giving her details of the time he’d spent alone with Miles.

As he watched her he carefully, he kept his hands in his pockets. His hair fell above his eyes.

She’d seen that pose and look a hundred times. She didn’t want him to go, a bad omen for her. Damian’s gaze seemed remote, almost dreamy, clear pools of turquoise. She could feel him without his touching her.

He answered her, after a long pause. “I assume Miles will sleep all night,” She saw his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I have somewhere else to go.”

“Where?” She knew she had no business asking.

“Does it matter?” He regarded her with interest. “I did what I was supposed to do—took a lot out of me too. I’ll see him again.” His face softened. “The love I feel for him—I can’t even describe it.”

“I know. So do I.” Something deep inside of her felt unsettled at a time when she should rejoice. Miles had his father back, but— “How did you get Miles to warm up to you so quickly? He doesn’t take to people, especially fathers he hasn’t seen for five years.”

“I’m surprised too.”

“What did you two discuss?”

“My death.”

“What?”

“He thought I’d died. I had to convince him that I was me.”

She tried to comprehend, as she watched a tic in his jaw.

“You don’t get it.” He took off his jacket, and laid it back on the arm of the sofa. “Case, Miles knew about my accident—overheard Alex telling you. After that, he never heard from me again. He decided I was dead.”

She heard a roar in her ears and the room tilted. “You’re teasing.”

He looked dead serious, even grim.

“
Dead
?”

“Yes. Hey, you couldn’t have known. He didn’t tell you his fears.” He reached her in two strides and gripped her arms with strong hands, steadying her.

She felt the room twirl around her. If not for his hold on her, she may have fallen to the floor.

“Are you all right, love?”

She heard his voice from far away with only his heated touch assuring her he stood right there. As his words sank in, she ran the gamut of emotions—shock, agony, despair, and failure. She’d failed her son. Casey couldn’t stand up anymore, not even with his support, so she pulled away and sank to the couch, covering her face. “Unbelievable.”

“Not after he explained, but it shocked me at first.”

She felt the sofa give as he sat beside her. His strong, warm presence soothed her a little. She dropped her hands and turned to face him.

He slid closer to her, keeping his gaze on hers. The kindness in his eyes made her feel better. She remembered times from the past when that same look had comforted her and made her feel safe, as if nothing could harm her. Near him, she found the courage to ask, “What else did he tell you?” She wanted to rest her body against his strong chest and have him tighten his arms around her.

Damian’s gaze frosted over and he looked ready to spit. “My loveable father spanked him with a belt a few times, like he did to me when I was a kid. I don’t think you should let Miles see him unless you’re there with him. I’m going to have a word with dear old Dad.”

Casey’s heart slammed against her chest. “He hit Miles with a freakin’
belt
??”

“Yes. And whether I’m disowned or not, I don’t give a crap. I’m going to confront him.”

“I had no idea.” Guilt washed over her. “Miles never told me. I-I can’t believe Michael would hit him at all, let alone with a
belt
. Honestly, Damian, he’s crazy about Miles.”

“I believe it. Dad may adore him, but he hit him, and he’ll pay for that.”

She laughed bitterly. “Yes, he will. I feel like going after your father with my own belt.”

“Dad’ll be seeing me tomorrow.” It sounded like a warning.

Casey felt sick.
How could Michael Ballantine, who loved Miles so much, hit him with a belt?
What other things had Miles kept from her?

“So tell me more.” She heard the brittle sound of her voice and hoped he knew it wasn’t directed at him.

She saw regret and apologies in his eyes, as if he didn’t want to cause her more grief. He didn’t coddle her though. “Sam makes him do push-ups as discipline, which pisses me off, and school, well, possibly due to the mill, the teachers and kids pick on him. We have a child who’s miserable, and I’m glad you dragged me back here. I want to help him.”

Casey leaned back against the cushions. “Miles told you more in half an hour than he’s confided in me in five years.”

“Boys can be protective of their mothers,” Damian said, and his low, soothing voice of velvet smoothed her anger. “Miles didn’t want to burden you.”

“At ten years old? Do I seem so fragile that a ten year old would think I’d have a nervous breakdown if he told me his problems?” She felt both frustrated and devastated. Nobody thought of her as weak. Why would her son?

Damian’s eyes softened and she even saw a gleam of mischief twinkling in them. “You’re as strong as Wonder Woman, hell, Superman. Remember the time some guy tried to grab your purse and you kicked him in the groin? After I saw him in court, I was so angry with you because he looked like a freakin’ linebacker! But you stopped him.”

“Well, he couldn’t have my purse.” She shrugged, remembering. “I got lucky that a cop was driving by and saw the whole thing.”

“And I recall,” Damian continued, “you ran in the street to knock a kid out of the path of a car and you got hit instead. Of course, you said you were fine and I had to force you to get medical attention.”

“It was just a broken arm,” she said, with another shrug as his grin managed to penetrate her gloom and touch her soul. She felt her own grin breaking through.

“Should I continue the endless stories about your bravery?”

She laughed, waved a dismissive hand, and then sobered as her thoughts traveled. “Miles thinks I’m weak, obviously, even though I’m not.”

Damian slid closer to her and wrapped his arm around her. Her skin flamed, even under the circumstances. “Miles is only ten. He sees a very brave mother trying to raise him alone, and he doesn’t want to add to your woes.”

“That’s why he told you, a stranger, and not me, his mother?” She couldn’t help the mild sarcasm.

“Guys protect their mothers, even Wonder Woman types.” He could still recall his brief relationship with his mom before her death. Even though he recalled that she’d been sick a lot, she’d been an angel to him. He still would go after anyone who dared say a word against her.

She tried not to smile, but once more it broke through.

He traced her upturned lips with a roughened thumb. “He didn’t want to worry you or make you think he’s a wuss. Wuss is the word he used.”

Casey shook her head. “Wow.” She felt a little better. Without thinking, she snuggled into his strong, hard body and he tightened his grip around her shoulders. A wave of annoying, distracting prickles rippled through her.

When Damian spoke again, he looked down at her and she could feel his hot breath against her cheek. “The damn mill layoffs!
That’s
a big problem.”

“It’s been horrible, Damian. Hundreds have been let go. For a town of only eight thousand, that’s a lot of unemployment.” She slipped her arm around his hard chest. Right now, if he’d tried to get up and leave, she’d have wrestled him to the ground. His smoky musky scent mingled with his enticing, raw masculinity.

“If Miles starts to like me,” Damian said, his voice tickling her ear, “maybe I can take him to Alabama so he can get a fresh start.”

She pulled back, astonished. “No! I won’t part with my son! Why don’t you move up here? You could see him all the time if you came back.”

Damian looked at her, a slow, bitter smile crossing his closed lips, and then he turned his head. “I understand your fear. What if I start drinking again? I’d send him right back to you if that happened.”

“I know you would.” She stared at him. His gazed lowered, and his features lined with self-recrimination. Even at this inopportune time, she noticed his toast-colored hair curling across his forehead in front, and just above his collar in back, his tawny skin stretched tightly over well-defined facial bones, and his petulant, wide lips. How could he even suggest taking her son away? “It would still be easier if you moved back.”

“I don’t belong here, babe. My life is in Alabama now, my business—all my friends—and Reese, a very special person I’ve gotten close to.”

“Who’s Reese?” She tried to sound nonchalant, even as her heart skipped a beat. She almost laughed at her stupidity.
Why would a man as gorgeous and charming as Damian Ballantine not have a girlfriend? Or several?

Damian rested his gaze on her. Was he holding back a grin? She’d kill him, if he were. “Sorry, Case. I forgot you didn’t know about her. Reese is my AA Sponsor.”

Casey could taste bile in her throat. “Romantic interest too?” She tried not to sound jealous. She shouldn’t be jealous.

“On her part.” He met her eyes squarely.

This is insane. We aren’t married anymore.
“You don’t love her?” She pretended to be stifling a yawn, and then wanted to slap herself upside the head.
Why put on an act?
Maybe they couldn’t be together, but she didn’t have to let him think she didn’t love him anymore. It would be too tiring to put on an act, especially when she loved him as much as she did.

All right. I admitted it to myself. I love him.

Damian was watching her with amused eyes. “I don’t love her in a passionate way,” he said, “But we’d make a compatible couple. Why? Does it bother you that I might marry again?” He cocked an eyebrow.

He saw through her facade. Well, she was finished with it, but once again had the urge to clobber him. He wanted her to be jealous, although she wasn’t sure why.

“I really don’t want to know about your romantic life, Damian.” Casey’s voice sounded as sharp a knife. She watched him, certain that her eyes matched her harsh voice.

His eyes twinkled, but he tried to pose a look of innocence. “Why do you care?”

She floundered for a moment, not sure how to answer. “I don’t care.”

He flashed his sunny grin that made the angels in heaven weep, and she gave up.