Page 42 of Hunted

Romano wouldn’t understand any of those reasons. She wasn’t sure she understood them herself, entirely. But she had to go back. There were some things she needed to think through and she couldn’t do that here, with this wounded hero and his pain so close, so reachable.

She had things to work out, things about herself and her relationship with her father. Things she hadn’t wanted to delve into before, because they were too painful. But it was time, she realized. It was past time. And the only place she could analyze and dissect those things was back there at the house where they’d spent the last days of his life together. The place where her memories of her mother shone most brightly. The place that had become her haven and her heart. And of course, there was Jax.

She closed her eyes and turned away from Romano, silently apologizing for what she was about to do. But she wouldn’t be gone long enough for him to wake up and worry. She was just going to get close enough to the house to assure herself no one was there. A ten- or fifteen-minute walk. And in the morning, she’d tell him what she’d done, and what she’d found, and he’d stop being so stubborn about going there.

Hell, who was she kidding? If it looked safe, she was at least going to feed her poor cat. And scoop the litter box. And make sure he was warm and safe. And maybe pet him for a little while.

She guessed she’d better leave Romano a note, just in case he woke before she returned. She scribbled on a scrap of paper and left it on the little table.

Making barely a sound, she picked up her clothes. She pulled on a pair of the heavy socks he’d bought, and then one of the sweatshirts. She added one of the heavyweight hoodies he’d found at Walmart, too, and then topped that with his jacket. She took the flashlight, as well.

On tiptoe, she slipped into the front of the RV and then out the front passenger door, rather than using the one in the back, where he’d be more likely to hear or feel the blast of wintry air on his face. She climbed down, into a surprising depth of fresh snow, and closed the door with extreme care, wincing at the noise when it latched.

And then she stepped away from the camper, stretching her arms out to her sides and inhaling deeply of the clean night air. Snow fell softly but thickly, dusting her face and clothes. It was colder than it had been earlier. Quite a lot colder. It wouldn’t be a problem, though. She could find the house blindfolded.

She took a step, then stopped, blinking at the unfamiliar surge of feeling that last thought had evoked. She felt strong and sure of herself, far more so than she had felt before her adventure with Romano. The time she’d spent with him had changed her in a significant way. It had awakened something in her.

She glanced back at the camper, remembering the way he’d looked lying there, asleep and drained, and even a little vulnerable. She thought she was changing him, too.

Romano dreamed of his sons. Jack was playing in a square patch of grass, his cherub cheeks bathed in golden sunlight. Justin was running around him, arms out, making airplane noises, swooping and diving at his little brother and making him giggle even harder. He heard their laughter, saw the sparkle in their eyes.

Then he saw himself and the vision became a memory. He was running and the boys got up and ran with him. He’d been teaching them how to play football in the back yard, the weekend before …

He stopped thinking and just looked, watched the scene unfold in his mind’s eye and devoured every second of it. It had been so long since he’d been able to see the boys like this, alive and happy. So long since he’d been capable of or willing to remember, because the pain of remembering was more than he could bear. He’d kept the memories buried, sealed. But now, it was like being there again. So real. The redness of Justin’s plump cheeks and little Jack’s cupid’s bow lips, and the way the wind ruffled their dark curls. The comic size of a regulation football when clutched in the small hands of a four-year-old.

“Boys, time to come in.”

He turned at the sound of Wendy’s voice. She stood at the back door, smiling as the kids ran toward her, both begging to stay out just a little longer. It was such a familiar scene, one that had played out a thousand times in real life. But it didn’t have the feel of a memory anymore.

Smiling, Wendy granted them an extra half hour in the back yard. They raced back to their game, and automatically Romano started toward the back door. He had to talk to Wendy. There was something …

“You called them inside,” he said.

“They asked for more time.”

“Yeah.” Romano smiled. “They always ask for more time.”

“And I always give it to them.”

He started up the back steps to go inside. He could smell the lasagna baking in the oven. Wendy caught his gaze and shook her head. “You need to wake up now.”

He frowned, saying nothing, just staring, confused.

“It was my time, not yours,” she said softly. “And it’s not Lexi’s time yet, either. She needs you. They need you.”

He tried to argue, but when he opened his mouth, the words that came out had no form, no substance.

“It was my time, not yours,” Wendy repeated. “Accept it, and go on.”

And then it was as if the lights went out. Blackness descended, engulfing everything. He couldn’t see Wendy anymore, or the house, or the yard. He couldn’t hear the voices of his sons. There was only darkness, and the unearthly howl of the wind.

It took a full minute for Romano to realize that his eyes were open. He was awake in a pitch-black camper. It had been a dream, for God’s sake. Just a dream.

He sat up in bed, pushing his hands through his hair, gnawing his lower lip a little, just to be sure he was really awake. Seemed he was. And his first instinct was to call to Lexi. To hear her voice answering him would be reassuring. It would confirm everything was all right. Just as it should be.

She needs you.

He gave his head a shake, trying to rid himself of the haunting memory of that dream. It had been so real. He cleared his throat and very softly, not wanting to wake her, he said, “Lexi? You awake?” He waited, remembering with a flush of embarrassment the way he’d poured his heart out to her earlier. The way she’d held him as he’d told her everything. Every single thing he’d vowed not to talk about with another living soul. And how deeply she’d listened. And how sharing it with her had made him feel like maybe he could survive this hell after all.

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