“Oh.” She took her first sip of coffee and felt her eyes go wide with surprise. Damn, Rick Sullivan made a good cup. Nice and full without being too strong.
“Look, most of the time I drive with both hands on the wheel. Once I’m in gear, I’m good to go. I can always try it. My dexterity’s limited with that hand, but I can probably manage steering. It shouldn’t be too bad, since I’m shifting with my dominant hand.”
Rick took another drink of coffee, his forehead creased in concentration. Jess stared, fascinated at the wrinkles around his eyes. For the first time, she really looked at him, not as the broken, alcohol-dependent man she’d come to see and resent since he returned from the military, but at the man who painted beautiful pictures in secret and was willing to help a friend. And while looking at him, Jess realized just how different the two sides of him were. One would be very easy to fall for. But the other Rick was too high maintenance for her. She wasn’t equipped to deal with someone else’s baggage in addition to her own. Suddenly, she felt guilty for being so hostile toward him since he came home.
“I’m sorry,” Jess blurted out.
“Sorry for what? Jeez, Jess, trying to follow you is like trying to follow the weather forecast. It changes every ten minutes.”
Her chest felt cramped and her cheeks hot. “You know, for being so … harsh when you came home. I just, I don’t know. I reacted poorly and was critical when I knew you needed a friend and not judgment.” She paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, truce? I realize I’ve been a bit…”
“Judgmental?” Rick offered up lightly, causing the soft blush on Jess’s checks to deepen.
“Yeah. That. It’s just … it was frustrating seeing you so angry. You have so much potential, Rick! I mean, just look at these paintings, for example, yet you waste it all on booze.”
He cupped his hands around his mug. “It’s my decision, Jess. When a person goes through something like I did, they need to get over it in their own time.” Rick paused, staring into his cup before continuing. “When you lose a part of yourself, there’s grief. Not even for what you physically lost, but grief over losing a dream, and knowing that nothing is going to turn out the way you planned. It’s having that choice taken out of your hands. The last thing I needed was someone telling me how I was supposed to feel about it or how I should handle it.”
She’d done that, and they both knew it. Jess felt torn. On one side, she realized Rick had to work through his issues in his own way, and yet she knew there were better ways he could have dealt with things instead of drinking and picking bar fights and passing out in the square. But sitting with him now, drinking coffee in his sunny little kitchen, she could be honest enough with herself to acknowledge that Rick’s drinking was not the same as Mike’s. That Rick was not Mike. Staring at his clear eyes, she almost wanted to tell him. Tell him about Mike’s alcoholism and what it had cost her. Maybe then he’d understand why she was so against his way of dealing with his problems.
But telling him was opening a Pandora’s box of issues she didn’t want to discuss—with anyone. She’d worked hard to overcome them. She’d worked hard to make something successful of herself.
It was easy enough to imagine the horrified look on Rick’s face if she told him everything that had gone on in her relationship with Mike. And once she opened that door there was no closing it. No matter what the counseling sessions or self-help books said, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that what happened with Mike was somehow her own fault. She should have been stronger. She should have left earlier.
“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” he suggested.
She left her own justifications out of it and was relieved to change the subject. “Consider it forgotten.” Jess paused uncertainly. “I’d like to be friends. For Abby and Tom’s sake. Clean slate and all that.” At Rick’s slow nod, she continued. “I guess I should be going, then. I’ve kept you long enough.” She stood, leaving her nearly empty coffee cup on the table.
He stood, too, and walked her to the door. She offered a weak smile as she went out and onto the step.
“Jess?”
She turned around to see him standing in the doorway, looking crazy sexy in faded jeans and an old T-shirt stretched out at the neck, his hair tousled and a day’s growth on his jaw.
“Don’t say anything about … about the painting, okay?”
“Of course not. Not if you don’t want.”
“I don’t.”
“Then your secret is safe with me.”
She wished he hadn’t asked. His work was so beautiful it should be shared and he should get credit for it. But that was his call to make, not hers. And she could be very good at keeping secrets.
Now she was holding two of his in her hands. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to garner his trust, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted it.
CHAPTER 7
The day of the wedding dawned crystal clear and cool, a perfect fall day. Jess stretched and slid out of the warm covers—no time to dillydally. She had to pick Rick up at eight thirty so they could get the car and make it back in time for her hair appointment. She showered and shaved her legs and put on her favorite lotion before wrapping herself in a robe and heading to the kitchen for her first cup of tea.
Today one of her best friends was getting married to one of her favorite cousins. Abby and Tom were so happy, even though it had been rough going in the beginning. The most important thing was that Abby had opened up her heart to Tom and they’d healed each other. To be honest, it gave Jess a sliver of hope. Maybe someday she’d find someone who would render the past impotent. She couldn’t quite imagine it, but for now, she’d enjoy seeing two happy people pledge their lives to each other.
Jess added a little milk to her tea and took a few minutes to sip it, looking out the window. A teenager on a bike went down the quiet street, throwing newspapers at each walkway. A few seagulls dipped and then caught the draft of the wind, their wings buffeted by the breeze as they soared, looking for any tasty
morsel that might come their way. And one solitary boat pulled away from the dock, sliding effortlessly through the still cove, headed out to the bay and beyond for a day of fishing before it got too cold to do so enjoyably.
Jess couldn’t stand gazing forever. She had to get a move on or else she’d be late. She tossed the rest of her tea down the sink and checked her watch. Rick would be expecting her any minute.
He was up and waiting for her when she arrived, and he hopped in her car with a huge mug of coffee to keep him company. The radio filled the morning silence as she drove to Glen’s place, and as she turned off the interstate into Auburn’s town limits, Jess snuck a glance at Rick out of the corner of her eye. Sitting there in the morning light, he looked relaxed, calm. With a start, Jess realized she was seeing Rick completely unguarded for the first time since he’d come home. For once, there had been no fighting, no awkward pauses. It had been strangely comfortable—she hadn’t felt the need to make small talk. What was more, Jess felt safe. Content. Who would have guessed she’d ever feel that way with Rick Sullivan? She was glad now that they’d made the truce. It would make everything so much easier.