Sweetest Salvation (5 page)

God, she missed him.

And she missed her little
boy, his laughter and cries of delight as he learned new things.

Hell, she’d give anything to
trip over a dump truck or teddy bear again. To find a towel balled up on the
bathroom floor after Patrick showered. The little things that used to drive her
crazy were the things she missed the most.

Peter tugging hard on her
long hair when she tried to get him dressed in the morning. Patrick’s incessant
humming,
or tapping a pen against the table as he
tried to figure out the crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper.

She swallowed back the tears
that threatened and leaned her head against the window. Two small blue jays
fought for their spot at the bird feeder. She found it calming to sit and watch
them come by every morning at seven like clockwork. Since she still battled
insomnia at night, it became routine to enjoy a cup of tea and watch them fly
around her backyard.

She sighed and closed her
eyes.

It had been three days since
she’d fled from the club and Hunter.

She could still picture the
look in his eyes—anger, frustration and disappointment. He’d never looked at
her like that in all the years she’d known him—until Patrick and Peter’s
deaths.

She pushed aside the memories
of those dark days she would never escape from. Zombie-like, uncaring and
desperate just to be left alone, she only moved through life without really
living.

Opening her eyes, she stood
and walked through her bedroom and into the kitchen.

After setting her mug in the
sink, she leaned on the counter, head down, and her thoughts on the past.

She was grateful for
Patrick’s planning for their future when they’d first gotten married.
 
He’d handled most of their finances, and his
income alone granted her the option of staying at home.

She helped out the local
church, fundraising for donations. She’d joined many of the charity
organizations her mother-in-law, Jeanine, was a part of. After learning the
ropes in organizing various functions to raise money for hundreds of causes, Andy
had found a niche in life she excelled at, and had helped multiple charities
raise hundreds of thousands of dollars.

In the last year, she
couldn’t find it within herself to continue doing so. Her life had been
shattered. What could she offer other causes when she had lost so much? Where
was God when she needed Him most?

She sighed and turned toward
the fridge and opened it. Where the shelves were once filled to the brim with
fruit, juice boxes, condiments for Peter’s favorite hot dog meal, they were
nearly bare now. She grabbed a container of yogurt, closed the door and
snatched a clean spoon from the strainer of dried dishes.

She leaned against the
counter and contemplated what she’d do today. Most days she
vegged
on the couch and pretended to watch movies or talk shows, but not even Ellen
Degeneres
could make her laugh.

As she scooped the last bit
of yogurt from the tub, the doorbell rang. Her gaze checked the time on the
microwave—eight-fifteen. Only her in-laws stopped by these days, but never at
this early hour.

Walking through the kitchen
and into the foyer, she caught sight of herself in the mirror beside the coat
closet. Her brown tresses were all over her head, and she smoothed them down a
bit with her fingers. It was a losing battle. She wasn’t expecting anyone and
the solicitor or whoever was at her door could just live with her faded grey sweats
and bugger off. Visitors should call first. Though it wouldn’t have
mattered—sweats and t-shirts were all she wore at home now.

She unlocked the door and
swung it open.

Andy’s stomach pitched and
her eyes widened. Hunter stood on her porch, arms spread as he leaned against
each side of the doorframe. His unwavering gaze met hers.

She knew at some point that
he would confront her after the other night. He’d been none-too-pleased to see
her at the club then.

He looked even unhappier now.

Hunter Sullivan took a long
look at the woman before him.

For years, he’d seen her
dressed in long flowing gowns, dress slacks or pant suits with gorgeous blouses
or shirts at charity functions. He was becoming very tired of seeing her in the
same faded sweats whenever he happened to see her.

Of course that was before
she’d told him to go to hell and rarely answered the door anymore.

“Can I come in?” he asked,
even though he wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

Seeing her at the club the
other night had nearly put him over the edge. He never wanted her to grace the
place again.
At least not without him present.

He pushed those thoughts from
his mind and crossed the threshold as she stepped back and walked away.

Hunter closed the door behind
him and followed her into the living room.

Memories choked him.

He still couldn’t get used to
not seeing the framed family photos on the wall. Absent were all pictures of
Patrick and Peter, photos from Andy and Patrick’s wedding day. The dozens of
photos of Peter as a baby when he’d learned to walk, a picture taken every
three months. The last would have been his fourth year photo.

His nose tickled and his
throat tightened. That little boy meant so much to him. The godson he would
have done anything for.

Hunter coughed and took a
seat in the black recliner across from the matching loveseat where Andy sat.

She picked at what he could
only guess was imaginary fluff from the arm of the loveseat. She obviously
didn’t want to look at him. He sighed.

Coming here today would no
doubt result in a hell of an argument, but things had festered too long. He
needed to resolve whatever anger she felt toward him and convince her to move
on. He hated that she’d closed herself off from everything and everyone she
loved.

He spoke to Jeanine and Tony
Sheaver
every day. Patrick’s parents had become his own
since first meeting them in his senior year of high school. Even when he and
Patrick had left for college, they’d always made sure Hunter came to their
house on holidays and special occasions.

Having lost his own
drug-addicted parents when he was two, and having moved from one foster home to
the other his whole life, meeting the
Sheaver
family
was one of the best things to ever happen to him. On his own since he was
sixteen, he’d worked two jobs after school in order to stay in a rundown motel
on the outskirts of town.

The couple who owned the
motel knew he was alone, and for various chores and help when needed, they’d
kept quiet about him being underage and never called the authorities.

Within the first six months
of being Patrick’s friend, he’d tried to convince Hunter to save the money he
spent at the motel and move in with him and his folks.

Hunter’s pride kept him from
accepting, and he managed to save enough money to live off while he tried to
save for college. It was a useless effort since tuition cost more than he could
make in ten years just working at the car garage and sweeping up after last
call at a bar in town.

He’d been shocked, however,
when Patrick and Tony showed up at his motel one evening and revealed that his
first year of tuition at college had been paid for. He’d been humbled and had
succumbed to tears at their generosity. He’d tried to refuse their gift, but
Tony had wouldn’t allow it. They would help him like that was more than anyone
had ever done for him.

He’d worked hard during those
four years and finally graduated with a business degree. He’d worked at the
bar, having moved from janitor to bartender, and even became the night manager
after a couple of years. Though the
Sheavers
refused
to let him pay any of the tuition money back, Hunter had put it into
investments for them once he’d learned the ins and outs of business and stocks.

They now lived off the
interest of those investments, and Hunter took pride in knowing he’d paid them
back somehow and they were taken care of.

Especially
with Patrick gone now.

Hunter sighed, which caught Andy’s
attention. Her eyes met his briefly before lowering to her hands, which were
clenched tight in her lap.

“Look, Andy,” he began.

“What do you want, Hunter?”
Her forest-green-eyed gaze met his. Anger swirled in their depths.

“I’m tired of this.
Dammit
.” He snarled, rising, and crossed to the fireplace.
He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned one arm on the mantel. He looked
over at her, stomach churning with indigestion and pain. He’d loved Patrick and
Peter too. Could she not understand that she wasn’t the only one suffering?

“Tired of what? I never asked
you here.”

“This!” Hunter spread his
arms wide.
“You.
I’m so tired of seeing you locked
away in this house, never leaving and pictures gone.”

“Go to hell,” Andy spat and
leapt to her feet. She moved behind the loveseat, obvious fury making her hands
shake as she laid them on the back of it. “You don’t have any say in how I
live. I never asked for your opinion. If you don’t like it, get the hell out of
my house.
And my life!”

Hunter breathed deep,
nostrils flaring. He could no more walk away from her than he could from the
Sheavers
. She was as much a part of his life, and his
heart, as they were.

But his love for her went far
beyond sisterly.

He pushed that thought away,
buried it deep within himself as he’d done for years. She was Patrick’s girl,
his wife. He always honored that.

“
Dammit
,
I don’t want to argue with you, Andy. But you really need to move on. Live life
again and leave this house.”

“I leave the house. You don’t
know what I do every day.”

“Oh yes, you go out. Like the
other night? Why did you go to the club? I thought we agreed you were no longer
a member,” Hunter demanded, curious about her answer.

“No.
You
decided I was no longer a member. Not me. I never said I wanted
that. Who are you to make decisions for me?” Andy retorted, cheeks flushed,
hands on her hips.

Hunter had to admit he was
finally seeing a glimpse of the fiery, strong woman she’d been until this last
year. He liked her eyes ablaze, jaw clenched and fury radiating off her body.
He just needed to provoke her enough and challenge her to move beyond these
walls and back to the things she loved to do.

“I don’t want to make
decisions for you.” He took a calming breath. “Listen, the club is not the
place for you any longer.
Without Patrick…
There’s no
need for you to be there anymore.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He was the one who wanted to
show it to you. He never really thought you’d come to enjoy it as much as you
did. Neither of you interacted with others. What can you find there now without
him?”

Andy smiled, cold and
detached. He hated that smirk.

“Oh, come now. You know what
happens in
your
club. Surely, I don’t
have to spell it out for you.”

Goddamn her.

Yes, he knew what she’d done
inside the room she’d once used with Patrick. Though he normally didn’t
interfere in his members’ activities unless there was a problem, he did ask
Paige and Nolan if Andy had simply watched. He’d been shocked, then livid, to
learn a few details of what happened between the three of them.

Andy had always been a
devoted wife to Patrick, faithful to the core. To know she’d been an active
participant at the club for the first time had suddenly left him empty and
alone.

But he couldn’t allow his
feelings on the matter to distract him from pushing her back into life.

He shrugged. “No. You don’t
have to spell it out for me. But is that what you truly want and need in your
life?
 
Sex with
strangers?
Do you need to find comfort in people who don’t care about
you?”

Andy glared at him. “That is
none of your business.” Her voice rose as she continued. “What I do in my life
is for me to decide. I never asked to have you in my life. Don’t expect me to
want you there now.”

His heart clenched. Her words
were like a punch to the gut.

Yes, he’d sort of come as a
package deal when she’d married Patrick. But the
Sheavers
were the only family he had. And when Peter was born, oh, he’d played the
dutiful uncle to the little boy. Though she’d never voiced her frustration at
his being in attendance at nearly all family gatherings or taking up some of
Patrick’s time once a week for a guys’ night out, he’d understood the
stone-faced woman who left the words unsaid.

“I always promised Patrick
I’d look after you if he couldn’t.”