Who You Least Expect (17 page)

“Sit. Have some breakfast,” he said, his voice soothing but uncompromising.

She walked to the table and sat, but her gaze was still drawn to the offending mess.

“Blake, forget it. It’s not going to hurt anything if it stays for a few minutes.”

She scoffed and then turned her eyes to him, the cereal forgotten, at least for the moment. “That’s how it starts, Cody. A few minutes turns into a few days, which turns into a few years, which turns into a few decades. Trust me. I know,” she said, hating the edge in her voice but knowing she spoke the truth. “If I’m not vigilant,
always
, the chaos will win. And I will not let the chaos win.”

He didn’t respond, and his gaze never left hers as he pushed a bowl across the table, and she added milk, the grumble of his stomach making her smile. After he’d poured milk into his own bowl, he began scooping still mostly dry cereal into his mouth.

“You’re way too sexy to like raisin bran,” he said between bites, frowning briefly before eating with renewed vigor.

“What can I say? I contain multitudes. And raisin bran is good,” she replied, smiling faintly, her panic and tension fading the tiniest bit.

“That you do, Ms. Bishop,” he said, and her smile waned.

She looked away from him and immediately regretted it, the precariously perched box on the counter and food on the floor again sucking her in. Through an exercise of will she hadn’t thought herself capable of, she pushed down the need to stand and go tidy the mess and looked back to his face. He dropped his spoon and leaned back, the ripple of his muscles as he moved pulling her gaze to follow. That cocky smile he flashed her livened her for a moment, but the weight of the impending conversation made the excitement fleeting.

“I try,” she said on a heavy sigh. “I fight it.” She shook her head. “But it’s so hard. When I first left home, I saved every penny I had. There was no way I was ever coming back here, especially not because I couldn’t afford to live on my own. But I love nice things, and I love the act of acquiring those nice things. A dangerous habit for someone like me.”

She leaned back, trying to mirror Cody’s loose, relaxed posture. But to no avail, so she sat back up, perched on the edge of the chair. “It was worse when I was working. I didn’t have limits financially, and it would have been so easy to buy everything I wanted, to hire someone to clean for me. But I didn’t. Every dish I wash, toilet I scrub, vacuum I push is a reminder that I can’t slip. I know that I will one day, probably sooner than I’d like,” she said, gesturing to the counter, “but every day, every minute, really, is a war that I fight and that I want to win,” she said, her voice going low.

Then she realized what she’d said, guilt again crashing into her. “I’m sorry, Cody. Poor choice of words. You know real war, and I’m sure you don’t appreciate me comparing my potentially filthy ways to that.”

“You’re not like them,” he said.

“You know nothing about me,” she responded.

His brows dropped, and he pulled his lips into a tight, thin line. His gaze pierced her, the cockiness and passion she usually saw now swamped by anger. But that was probably for the best. He needed to be angry; better that than have him thinking that he knew her, or God forbid that he could fix her, that she could be fixed.

“You can say that to me? You can say that and still believe it after yesterday?”

“Don’t use that against me! Is that why you’re still here, to rub my nose in it?”

She’d gone from introspective to irrational in the blink of an eye, but she couldn’t stop herself. Cody didn’t back down, though.

“I don’t think you believe that,” he said. “I think you wish you did, and I think you’d like nothing more than for me to not know you. But I do.” He leaned forward, eyes softening. “Not everything is a war, Blake,” he said quietly, though his eyes flashed now. “And I’m still here because no matter how hard you try not to see it, and how hard you try to push me away, I care about you. And you need me.”

He said the words with conviction and absolute belief. And she hated herself because he was right. She did need someone, need him. And as much as she wouldn’t admit it, as tumultuous as her emotions were, she was happy that he’d stayed. But she couldn’t say that, wouldn’t risk coming to rely on him.

“I don’t need anyone,” she said feebly.

“I know,” he said indulgently. Then he leaned back. “Finish your breakfast.”

She complied and, save the clanging of spoons against bowls, the room was otherwise quiet. Blakely stole surreptitious glances at Cody, and though she was certain that he saw her each time, he gave no indication he had and instead ate his cereal with the same enthusiasm he had earlier, the way he did everything.

God! She wanted to run and hide, and he was acting as if they hadn’t just had a heated conversation, that he hadn’t seen her at her worst.

“You’re not going to say anything?” she asked.

“I hate raisin bran,” he said between spoonfuls.

“You mentioned that already. And you’re eating it with vigor,” she said.

“Five sisters and ten years in the Navy. I learned to get while the getting is good.”

“Are we really talking about cereal right now?” she asked seriously.

“What do you want me to do, Blake? What do you want me to say?”

“Something!”

“I did. You need me. I’m here. And I know you want to argue with me, tell me that I don’t know you and other nonsense, and I’ll be happy to indulge you as soon as I finish eating.” He lifted one corner of his mouth.

She stared at him, exasperated, mouth agape. He really intended to push this point and he really believed that he knew her and could help her. She’d set him straight. “Cody—”

Three sharp raps at the front door cut her off and she turned to it and then back to Cody.

“Ugh, I don’t know if I’m up to visitors this morning,” she said as she went to stand.

But Cody was up and halfway to the door before she could rise.

“Cody!” she said.

“Wait right there,” he tossed over his shoulder, his very bare shoulder, a shoulder that made her look down his broad muscular back to his naked ass.

Blakely gaped as Cody, barefoot and bare-chested, opened her front door like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“May I help you?”

“We’re looking for Blakely Bishop. And you are?”

The voice belonged to Mrs. Mallick, who spoke in that familiar and expectant tone. Blakely rolled her eyes and bit back a groan as she realized what this meant. Mrs. Mallick and her cronies usually rolled in packs, which meant that the mayor’s wife and at least one other member of the Ladies’ Council were with her.

“A friend of hers,” Cody said.

“And do you have a name?” a second voice said, confirming Blakely’s fears. It was indeed Eleanor Thornehill, which meant that Abigail Adkins had to be out there as well.

All three of them were probably champing at the bit in anticipation of the metaphorical scarlet letter they would brand on her. The Bishop name was shit in this town and with her flagrant fornication, she was adding her own little piece to it.

“Well, friend,” Mrs. Thornehill said. “Please have Blakely get in contact with one of us. We heard about the trouble with her parents and think it’s such a shame they are suffering. If she needs help setting things to right, we’d be more than happy to help. She knows how to find us.”

“If I hear from her, I’ll let her know,” Cody said, closing the door before another word was uttered.

The sound of his approaching footsteps only enhanced the dread inside her, but he just resumed his seat and picked up his spoon, shoveling a few more bites into his mouth.

“You were saying?”

“You slammed the door in their faces?”

“They’re lucky I even answered in the first place.” He laughed.

“They are not going to be pleased about that,” she said.

“So what?” he said with a shrug.

“So what? I mean, they… I mean, you just don’t…”

Words failed her. For years she’d fretted over the wrath of town gossips, worried who said what about her and her parents, but in the face of Cody’s complete nonchalance, in the face of yesterday, the protests and worries that had plagued her for so long seemed even more meaningless than they had before.

He shot her another of those winning smiles. “And while I don’t necessarily like to disrespect ladies, the expressions on their faces were priceless.”

“I bet they were,” Blake said, laughing.

A few moments later, she sobered. “I need to go to the hospital and check on them, see where things are.”

He glanced over at the clock on the wall. “Okay. I have to report in a couple of hours but I have some time.”

“I need to go alone,” she said softly.

His smile faded, and he watched her intently, not displeased but not happy either.

“It’s not you, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, Blake. But I’m here for you,” he said. And with that, he stood and grabbed both their bowls from the table and headed toward the sink, where he deposited the bowls, and then quickly swept up the errant cereal and returned the box to its designated spot.

His reaction, the fact that he hadn’t pushed, the belief, no matter how crazy it seemed, that he would be there for her, almost made her relent. And she almost did. But something held her back. She needed to do this alone.

A half hour later, they were both dressed and when they reached the front door, Cody pulled her against his big body. She held him tight, as desperately as she could ever recall holding anyone. Hoping that some of his strength might buoy her.

“Call me, okay?”

She nodded.

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

Chapter Thirteen

She found her parents on the third floor where they’d been yesterday. Her father looked one hundred percent better, that grayish-blue tint having faded from his skin. And he seemed freshly showered and wore clothes she’d never seen before. Her mother looked good as well and for a moment, she almost pictured what it would be like if they were this way normally, were normal.

But there was no use in indulging in fantasy. She needed to take action, and soon. They both looked up when she knocked on the door and her father smiled at her. Her mother did as well, though she could see that the upset from yesterday hadn’t faded.

“Ree,” she said stiffly.

“Hey, Mama. Daddy. What did the doctor say?”

“I’m the picture of health. They are getting the discharge papers now.”

“And the sheriff?”

The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, and her father’s expression went thunderous.

“He was here. Some social worker too. Said some city inspector had been out and declared the house unfit for human habitation.”

Her father sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe that someone would suggest such a thing, and again, Blakely marveled. She hadn’t expected a complete change of heart, but the level of denial, the complete refusal to see it, was still astounding.

“Well…?” she said.

“We’re going to that…place. Charity’s Wings,” her mother interjected. “We’ll stay there while we get this sorted out. I told that social worker I want a list of everything they say we have to fix. It’s nonsense, people butting in like this, but Cyrus said if we try to go back, they can arrest us for trespassing. On our own property!”

“So you’re going to clean up?” she asked.

“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” her mother said solemnly.

Elation lifted her heart, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

“I can help, you know,” she said.

She’d said the same yesterday and her mother had rebuffed her, but today was different.

“We might need you. I want to fight it, but we don’t have money for lawyers, and it’ll take who knows how long. Of course me and Harmon talked about it, and he says there’s good money out there. Isn’t there?”

Her father nodded, excitement lighting his eyes now. “Oh yeah, between the scrap and the recyclables, there’s probably sixty, seventy thousand dollars out there. I told Mayree we might have enough to get that RV we’ve been wanting.”

Blakely’s elation faded. For a moment, she’d let herself believe that this talk of giving in, of trying, was something. But it wasn’t that; no, they were using this as an opportunity to shop, acquire even more stuff. And she could only imagine what they’d do when they realized the sixty thousand dollars in scrap was probably more like six hundred, and that was if they were lucky. She looked between their twin expressions of glee and anticipation and stilled her tongue. They wouldn’t believe her, and she couldn’t convince them, so why rain on their little parade? They’d change, or they wouldn’t. But either way, she’d be there for them.

••••

Cody made a quick stop home to shower and change and then headed straight to the one person who could help him. And he was relieved to find that Poole was in his office. He checked with the receptionist and then settled to wait, noting the irony of the fact that he was at a psychologist’s office voluntarily. But if Poole could give him insight into Blake, help him process what he’d seen yesterday and give him answers, all the better.