Pieces of Broken Time (19 page)

Blake grinned when the door cooperated and he tiptoed to the bathroom across the hall. He finished his morning ritual without even glancing in the mirror. The last thing he needed was to feel the disgust. Besides, he didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. Though most of his hair had been spared from the cookout, the side of his face had retained the scarring typical of burn victims—shiny, with uneven skin. Every single day he vacillated between two sentiments—glad to be alive and asking why he hadn’t died that day.

If he couldn’t bear to look at himself, how could he expect others to endure the torture?

Before he allowed that train of thought to sink his mood any further, he finished dressing. It took him several tries before he could snap the vest in place, due to the limited rotation of his shoulders. It came and went, and according to Sam, his missed appointments were bound to reflect the negative effects. True, the more therapy he attended, the better his body felt, but it didn’t change the fact that the road to normalcy would be long and arduous.

Shaking the negative emotions that started to creep back in, he padded barefoot along the hallway with Drew in tow. He went straight to the cupboard and retrieved a box of high-fiber cereal, slipped it under his arm, and balanced two bowls, spoons, and a carton of milk.

Yeah, breakfast of champions.

It made him wonder if this healthy breakfast was enough to tide him over until lunch.

After he returned to the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice and fresh fruits, he went to his bedroom to check on Jennifer. He stood just outside the doorway, uncertain if he should wake her, when he heard running water coming from the bathroom.

He knocked, and when he heard a muffled answer, he pushed the door open. “Are you ready for breakfast?” he asked through the bathroom door.

A gurgle sounded before Jennifer answered, “Be out in a second.”

He surveyed the area and found traces of her; a lip balm, a small spiral notebook, and a tattered picture. He walked closer to get a good look, feeling a bit guilty for invading her space, but he couldn’t stop himself.

The photo was of him and Trent leaning on a concrete wall, garbed in their camos, and holding their rifles. It had been taken in their third year of service, as evident in their sullen expressions. He remembered Trent writing on the back of the photograph—melancholic and homesick.

Blake’s chest tightened at the memory, and he was caught off guard when Jennifer spoke from behind.

“I carry it with me all the time,” she said in a quiet voice.

He turned around. There were no words. They both missed Trent, and that was the extent of what he would allow himself to admit today. “Let’s eat,” he said.

If Jennifer had wanted to say something, she seemed to have changed her mind and pressed her lips together.

Without a word, he slipped an arm around her waist and swept her off her feet.

“All this lifting is not good for you,” Jennifer said after he deposited her on the chair.

Blake took the chair opposite her and forced a weak smile. “It’s the exercise I need.”

They ate in silence but it was far from comfortable. He knew for a fact that Trent was very much in her mind. Even if he had something to offer her, his friend would always be the big, ever-present figure keeping him from giving himself to the woman he loved.

After Blake got her situated on the couch with everything he anticipated she might need, Jennifer stared at the television while her mind wandered to the whirlwind of events in the last thirty-six hours. Sure enough, thinking of Blake’s kiss still made her head spin. His touch had left her heady, breathless, and more confused than ever. She couldn’t make heads or tails of his actions and wasn’t ready to recall what had happened in the shower. Some things were better left in the dark, where they belonged. If Blake had no recollection, or refused to broach the subject, then she had no intention of bringing it up.

What does he want from me?

He had mentioned that he was a man of his word. Did that mean when his babysitting days were over, he’d walk out of her life and disappear? Or did his promise to Trent go beyond the obvious? Contradicting actions aside, one thing was clear. He was physically attracted to her and the idea scared her to the point of wanting to flee.

“The guy has enough baggage to sink the Titanic,” she muttered.

Was physical attraction enough for her? There was no denying her feelings for him went beyond raw appeal. The man had touched her heart in the simplest ways. The gentle way he held her, providing comfort and security. Only one man had ever made her feel as safe, but she hadn’t felt the same pull as she did now.

This was definitely trouble waiting to happen. With everything he kept locked up inside him, she wasn’t sure she had what it took to chip away at his walls. Trent, bless his heart, had told her all along that his best friend needed a sensitive woman who would love and understand him.

Had Trent foreshadowed—

The shrill ringing of the house phone jerked her off the Blake train of thought. She hopped on one foot to the kitchen, hoping the call would be good news from Officer Cortez.

“Hello?”

“This is the office of Doctor Dent. Is this Mrs. Connor?”

Mrs. Conno—

“Um, no. I’m—”

“I’m calling to confirm his appointment this time.”

Her curiosity was piqued. “What kind of appointment?”

“He’s been canceling on us, and Dr. Dent is a busy man. If he misses his eye consultation again, I’m afraid I won’t be able to put him on the schedule until the end of this year.”

Oh my.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t miss this time.”

I will?

“That would be a good idea.”

“When is the appointment and what does he need to do?”

“All he has to is show up tomorrow at nine in the morning.”

“He’ll be there,” Jennifer said, sounding so sure.

After hanging up the phone, she felt guilty for overstepping her boundaries. What made her so sure Blake would go? He was unpredictable and who knew how the man might react once he found out that she’d dipped her foot into his business again.

Rationalizing her dumb, but well-intentioned meddling, she hobbled back to the sofa and put her feet up. After all, she was just looking after his best interests.

She was figuring out the best way to tell Blake about the phone call when she realized the steady thumping was insistent knocking on the door. With clumsy movement, she hurried and hopped to the door to answer the caller.

Jennifer peeked through the peephole and saw a couple standing outside. She opened the door tentatively.

“Jennifer?” a gorgeous older woman with platinum blond hair and familiar sparkling blue eyes asked.

She smiled and opened the door wider. “Yes?”

“We’re Blake’s parents. I’m Claire and this is Jack. Is he home?”

The elderly man behind Claire dipped his head slightly. As tall as Blake with similar features, Jennifer saw who Blake took after.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Connor. Blake’s not home at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll be back in a bit. Would you like to come in and wait?”

“Yes, thank you. Please, call me Claire.” Blake’s mother smiled and tugged at her husband’s arm to follow.

Jennifer stepped back to give them enough room to enter. “I’m so sorry for the mess, but I’ve been camping here in the living room.” She began to clear her things on the coffee table when Blake’s mom stopped her.

“Child, go sit. I think that’s the reason why Blake wants you here with him. So you can be off your feet and resting, right?”

Jennifer had been reminded of her mother the first time she’d spoken with this woman, but here, now, in full view of Claire’s warm and cheerful personality, a lump formed in her throat.

Jennifer did what she was told. Blake’s mother sat down on the recliner and turned to her husband.

“Dear, can you get the groceries from the car?”

Groceries?

“Are you sure that you should be cooking right away? You haven’t even talked to Blake yet. We might be intruding,” Jack said, eyeing Jennifer with a cautious smile.

“Oh, pooh. The boy needs to eat something more nutritious than takeout.”

With a worried expression, Blake’s dad went to fulfill his wife’s request.

Jennifer looked up to see the older woman smiling at her.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Jennifer fidgeted.

What should I say?

“Um, I live not too far from here. I used to live in San Francisco with my aunt before she passed away. Then I relocated here after that.”

“How do you like living in a hot place like this?” Blake’s mother seemed sincere, but Jennifer had a sinking feeling that she also had aspirations of playing cupid.

“It has its charm. I like living away from the big city, for a change.”

“I think you’re right. I just never understood why Blake wanted to live here, away from us.” Claire shook her head. “How did you meet him?”

Jennifer hesitated and looked down at her hands.

Truth or make something up?

She wrung her hands together and debated her answer.

This woman is Blake’s mother, for God’s sake. She’ll catch any lie you try.

“Trent. Blake’s friend and I were engaged to be married.”

Mrs. Connor’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly open. After several silent seconds, she smiled. “Well, I’m glad to meet a friend of my son.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Jack walked in with bags of groceries. “Where do you want this?”

Claire looked relieved for the distraction and patted Jennifer’s knee. “Jennifer, stay put. If you need anything, just let me know. Let me help you, dear.” She took one bag from her husband and proceeded to the kitchen.

Jennifer was left wondering about the older woman’s hesitation but let it go, and for the next hour, she tried to concentrate on work and answering her neglected e-mails while the aroma of a home cooked meal drifted around the house.

“Talk,” Blake demanded as soon as he spotted Sam behind his desk.

The place was quiet and a perfect time to grill his friend for information about the events of a couple of nights ago.

Sam glanced up from the mound of paperwork on his desk, raised an eyebrow, and chuckled. “Where do you want me to start?”

Blake worked on removing his shirt and vest while he spoke. “From the beginning. How did Jennifer end up back at my house?”

Sam walked to the sink and lathered up. “You sound like you regret asking me to pick her up.” He glanced over his shoulder at Blake.

Surprised, Blake tried to jog his memory, but couldn’t recall making any such request. “I remember bits and pieces after I started drinking.” He gritted his teeth while shifting his body to a comfortable position on the therapy table.

Sam went to work right away on his shoulders, massaging the tender skin and the tight muscles underneath. “Well . . . you drank like a fish to begin with. No matter what I said, you kept ordering one after the other, so I became the designated driver and a part-time psychologist.”