Nobody But You (3 page)

It wasn't quite as pristine down here as it had been when it'd belonged to Lucas. This was because one, she wasn't an OCD cleaning fanatic who'd had it scrubbed with a toothbrush. And two, she resented the hell out of her accommodations. She hated the small porta-potty she couldn't even use because she didn't know how to hook it up.

This had forced her to always park—er,
moor
—the boat near one of the two campgrounds on the lake so that she could use those facilities. What she did have were seats for six and a bed that barely fit one. The seats and bed were done up with the same leather-like material as the seats above, white with red trim, making the compartment appear more spacious than it was. Much more. There was a top-notch stereo system and entertainment center that had probably cost more than she'd made last year tucked into the cabinets. Everything was compact and efficient.

And it all drove her crazy.

She hurriedly brushed her teeth in the small galley sink, tamed her hair, and changed her clothes, digging into her last clean outfit. She would have made herself breakfast, but the sole electric burner on the tiny stove would light only about half the time she tried, and this morning wasn't one of those times.

Forty-five minutes later she stood outside the hospital, switching out her running shoes for heels. Not that she'd run here from the lake. Nope, the only time Sophie did any running was if a bear was chasing her, and that hardly ever happened.

She'd walked the three miles to work, reminding herself that in return she could now have dessert with both lunch
and
dinner as a prize. She shoved her running shoes into her tote and headed into the building adjacent to the hospital, where for the next few days she was running the front office at the special-care facility while the regular office manager recovered from a root canal.

The job was stressful, but she loved the people. They were either elderly or a little loony tunes, but she fit right in. A shrink would have a field day with that, but she was making new choices these days, and one of them was not worrying about what people thought of her.

She waved at Dani, the receptionist, and then at the two accounting clerks in the staff room as she punched in. She moved to the front desk to see that everything was on track and froze as a man came in the front door. Given how the day had gone, nothing should have been able to surprise her at this point, but this did.

Hottie Lake Patrol Guy was striding directly toward her.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, gaping like a fish. What the hell could he possibly want? To sue her for getting seasick and throwing up? For leaving her boat in a spot no one else wanted anyway? Heart pounding, she narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?” she asked. Maybe yelled. “I didn't do anything wrong! Well, okay, other than parking my boat illegally, but throwing up—while unfortunate—is not arrest worthy, especially since I didn't even get it on your shoes! So just get over it already!”

He pulled off his dark sunglasses and met her gaze, his mouth tilted up in the barest hint of a wry smile.

“This is harassment,” she said. “I could sue you, but I'm not that girl. Especially if you agree to compensate me by letting me use the dock for one more night.” Holy crap, she couldn't believe the stuff coming out her mouth, but she was backed into the proverbial corner, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

Without saying a word, Lake Patrol Guy reached for the pen on the sign-in sheet they used for visitors of their patients and…

Signed in to see a patient.

Then he set the pen down, quirked a brow at her, and walked away.

Unable to help herself, she watched his very fine ass as he went. “So I can stay one more night, right?” she called after him.

Dani came up beside her and joined in the ass watching. “You threw up on his shoes?”

She sighed. “It's a long story.”

J
acob was still shaking his head as he made his way up the stairs of the rehab center to the second floor. Turned out Red from the lake had a name, which he'd seen on her name tag just now.

Sophie Marren.

She'd been wearing a different outfit from the one he'd seen her in before, now a pencil skirt and a sleeveless blouse. Not looking pale and green, not throwing up…Instead, she'd had her hair twisted up on top of her head, with a few long, wispy strands falling out. There was a flush to her cheeks, and her lips were shiny. Her pretty green eyes were behind a set of reading glasses, and the overall look screamed sweet, cautious, reserved librarian.

It was a look he'd never given much thought to, but suddenly it was sexier than hell. Especially when he added in the slight Southern accent he detected every time she got sassy, which around him seemed to be a constant.

He was thinking about that and smiling a little because she'd pretty much yelled at him, and it'd been a damn long time since he'd been called out like that. In his world, people respected him, feared him, avoided him…They most definitely did not put their finger in his face like a schoolteacher and take him to task.

His smile faded quickly enough when he remembered why he was here—to visit his mom. From there he'd figure out how to see Hud.

But then he turned the corner and came face-to-face with him.

Once upon a time they'd been mirror images, exact replicas of each other while also being opposites. Hudson was right-handed, and he was a southpaw. Hud's cowlick was on the right, Jacob's on the left. Hud reacted with his emotions, Jacob with his brain.

Except for the one time he hadn't.

The fight with Hud had been the worst day of his life, and that was saying something, as there'd been a few doozies before and since. But that day they'd each said things, and Jacob had no idea how to make it right again.

They'd grown up hard and fast. Carrie, their mom, had been a sweet but troubled eighteen-year-old whom their father had taken advantage of one night. Later they'd find out that Richard Kincaid was something of a serial sperm donor. And that
monogamy
wasn't a word he knew the definition of.

So growing up, it'd been just Hud, Jacob, and Carrie, raising each other. Actually, Hud and Jacob had raised themselves while doing the best they could to raise their mom too. But when they'd turned twelve, Carrie had fallen apart completely, leaving her unable to hold a job.

Jacob and Hud had done everything they could, working when they could get jobs, conning when they couldn't, but eventually they hadn't been able to keep a roof over their heads anymore and had landed here in Cedar Ridge, thanks to the generosity of Char Kincaid.

Char had been another of Richard Kincaid's rejects. She'd had two boys with the guy, Gray and Aidan, both a few years older than Hud and Jacob.

All of that had meant that once they'd landed here in Cedar Ridge, for the first time in their lives, they'd had a support system. Family. Carrie had been nearby in the home, and they'd had a roof over their heads and three squares a day.

And though he and Hud had taken an oath to leave together the moment they turned eighteen, to go off and explore the world and be all the other needed, Hud had taken to Cedar Ridge and their newfound siblings like a fish to water.

Jacob had tried. Or maybe he hadn't. What he for sure had done was carry his resentment and anger over his father's abandonment and the frustration of his mom's health in the form of a huge chip on his shoulder. He'd been a punk-ass kid who'd deserved to get kicked out.

Instead, Char had been sweet and kind and mothering. Aidan and Gray had ignored his dick-ness. They'd treated him and Hud better than they'd ever been treated before. So had Kenna, their baby sister—from yet another woman of their father's—who'd come to Cedar Ridge shortly after Hud and Jacob.

And yet still, when graduation had come, Jacob had packed as he and Hud had always planned.

Only Hud had steadfastly refused to leave.

When Jacob had insisted, Hud had let loose of his rare temper and said that if Jacob wanted to go, then he should. But if he did, they were no longer brothers.

Jacob's eighteen-year-old bluster and ego had kicked in hard at that ultimatum, and he'd walked, breaking up the tightest bond he'd ever had with another living soul.

He'd gone into the army. In boot camp, he'd met Brett, who'd lost his family to a drunk driver. Very different from losing a family due to pride and stupidity. But the two of them had been each other's support system and family through basic training, specialized weapons training, and several tours of duty.

And then Brett had died in a stupid roadside bombing they'd never seen coming. That's when the “no man left behind” mantra had hit him hard. Really hard. He'd never have walked away from Brett, and yet he'd done just that to Hud.

He hated himself for it.

Which was the biggest reason he was here. He'd been wrong and had to tell Hud that. Had to tell everyone. He had no idea if he'd even be welcomed. But blood or not, family was family—or so he hoped. And he had to do right by his.

When he'd walked away all those years ago, he'd been a self-righteous, selfish prick. He didn't want to be that guy anymore. He had no idea what kind of a man he'd be instead, but it was past time to find out.

Hud had stopped walking, just stopped on a dime in the middle of the hallway. Slowly. He pulled off his sunglasses and stared at Jacob, relief and joy evident on his face.

Jacob nearly hit his knees at that. With his heart suddenly feeling way too big to fit inside his rib cage, he took a few steps toward his brother.

Hud met him halfway, wrapping his long arms around Jacob, clapping him hard on the back.

For the first time since Brett's funeral, Jacob felt emotion, hot and all-consuming, swell up and block his throat.

Arms still tight around him, Hud lifted Jacob off the ground—not easy to do—squeezing the hell out of him while he was at it. “Holy shit. How much does all this muscle weigh?”

Jacob shrugged. It was his job to be big and bad, which, yeah, was pretty much a complete turnaround from the too-skinny, too-scrawny kids they'd once been. Which reminded him all that was between them.

And given the look on Hud's face, it'd hit him too. His twin schooled his features into a blank mask so fast Jacob's head spun.

“What the fuck, man?” Hud said, taking a step away.

“Hudson Kincaid, you watch your language!” came a woman's shocked voice, a voice that Jacob would know anywhere.

His mom.

He and Hud turned in unison to the patient room where Hud had come from. Carrie sat on her bed wearing black leggings with bunny slippers and a huge bright pink sweatshirt that said
NEVER STOP FIGHTING.
Her hair was as it always had been, so light blond it looked like a cotton ball, the flyaway strands doing whatever they wanted. Eyes locked on both Jacob and Hud, she slowly set down her tablet. “It's not a dream.” Her mouth fell open. “Oh my goodness, it's not a dream,” she whispered, and her eyes filled. “Jacob?”

Jacob managed a nod. His voice, when he managed to speak, was low and rough. “Yeah, Mom, it's me.”

She brought shaking fingers up to her trembling mouth.

He let out a breath, feeling like he'd been stabbed in the gut. “Please don't cry.”

She closed her eyes, and a few tears spilled out down her cheeks.

Hud sent him a fulminating look, and Jacob knew he deserved no less. “Mom—” he whispered hoarsely, letting out an
oomph
of air when she launched herself off the bed and flung herself at him. Since she was at least a foot shorter than he was, it wasn't all that hard to catch her. Holding her tight, he pressed his face to her shoulder.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out?” she asked in a hurt voice. “Did you?”

“Uh…” Lifting his head, he eyeballed Hud, who was a granite statue and no help at all.

Carrie pulled away and shook a finger in his face. “How many times have I told you, cutting school is bad. Baby, you need your education. You're so smart. You're going to make something of yourself. I just know it. But Mrs. Stone called me and said you missed her math test…”

Mrs. Stone had been Jacob's sixth-grade math teacher.

And he had absolutely ditched her class often, usually to get to a card game at a neighbor's house, where he'd used his considerable math skills to count cards and make their rent money. “I'll make it up.”

“Yeah, well, see that you do,” his mom said, looking very much the same as she always had, which was a little batshit crazy and a whole lot wonderful, the warmest, sweetest woman on the entire planet. And as she always had, she brought out conflicting emotions in Jacob. Rough memories of being a kid and yet having to be the adult, relief that she was exactly the same, the only person on the planet to unconditionally love him even if she didn't know what year she was living in.

She hugged him again. “It's just that you can do better,” she whispered, squeezing him, her small hands patting him gently. “You can do so much better, Jacob. Please try.”

He closed his eyes and held her. “I will,” he promised.

“Hud can help you. I know you've been doing all his English and history papers.” She gave Hud a long look before turning to Jacob. “Let him pay you back by helping you in math, okay?”

Jacob met Hud's gaze, which was cool and assessing. Nope, there wouldn't be much help coming from that direction, for anything.

“Now shoo,” Carrie said, pushing them both to the door. “I've got book club to get to.” She picked up a book from her bedside table.

Fifty Shades of Grey
.

Hud choked and then turned it into a cough when Carrie looked at him.

“
That's
the book you're discussing at book club today?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her cheeks a little pink. “And don't ask me to tell you about it. There's nothing in here for thirteen-year-old boys, trust me. I'm raising you right, so I'd best not ever hear in the future—
way
in the future, when you're grown men—that you treat your women anything like Christian Grey treats his. You got me?”

Hud lifted his hands in a surrendering pose. “Jacob's the one with authority issues,” he said. “Not me.”

And then the rat-fink bastard darted out of the room, leaving Carrie to stare at Jacob.

He stared back, finding himself starving for her sweet warmth and affection. He flashed a smile.

She let out a breath and shook her head. “You always were the charmer.”

No. He wasn't a charmer. And in fact, he was the worst sort of deserter. Yes, he'd sent money every month to support her, not that he'd ever looked at her as a financial burden. He didn't see her that way. Just as he knew she didn't see him as a grown man. In her eyes, he was still a child. The dementia had taken a lot of time from her.

And he'd wasted even more.

That was his cross to bear. He bent and brushed a kiss over her jaw. “I'll come tomorrow, okay?”

“You'd better. No more missing school, Jacob. I mean it.”

With a nod, he left her room.

He'd expected Hud to be waiting for him, but the hallway was empty. He reminded himself that he'd seen Hud's face light up at the first sight of him. The rest would come.

Or so he hoped.

He felt eyes on him as he left the center but wasn't in the mood to interact with Sophie, even if she was the only thing that had made him feel better since returning to Cedar Ridge.

The warm sun hit him as he went outside. He thought about the paddleboards at the cabin and could admit he'd hoped to get out on the lake with Hud. It'd been a damn long time since he'd been carefree, with time to do whatever he wanted.

A damn long time.

He headed toward his truck and then slowed when he saw Hud leaning against the driver's door, arms casually crossed, sunglasses in place. “How did you know which vehicle was mine?”

“It's the only new truck in the lot and it looks like you.”

“You waited for me,” Jacob said.

“It's what I do,” Hud said evenly, giving no visible indication of an emotion one way or the other. He didn't have to. His tone said it all. He'd gotten over being happy to see Jacob and had moved on to the pissed-off portion of the reunion.

Jacob got that. He deserved that. “Hud, I'm—”

“If you're going to apologize to me, fuck you.”

Jacob cut off the words he'd been about to utter, which indeed had been an apology.

“Too little too late,” Hud said. “I called. I emailed. I texted. I—” He shook his head and pushed away from the truck. “Never mind.”

Jacob blocked Hud's escape and met his brother's eyes. Not easy when he didn't exactly know how to defend his own actions. It was complicated, far too complicated for a parking lot. “I have things to say to you,” he said. “Things you're going to have to hear eventually, but Mom first.”

Hud closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah. She's not doing good.”

Jacob nodded, a fist tightening around his heart.

“Sometimes we're eight,” Hud said. “Sometimes we're teenagers. She's stuck on those early teen years the most, probably because that's when she first began to lose it.” Hud lifted a shoulder. “I just go with it. She's happiest that way, and the doctor said that was best. To keep her happy.”

Jacob nodded again.

“I gotta get to work,” Hud said.

Another nod. He'd become a fucking bobblehead. Not knowing how to move on, get past this, he held out his hand.

As far back as he could remember, the two of them had had a private language all their own, often able to communicate without words. They'd also had a ridiculously complicated handshake, one they'd used every time they'd greeted or left each other. So Jacob's hand went out automatically, an action born of reflexes.