Page 55 of No Kind of Hero
Did she leave it at that? Of course she didn’t. When Evan had eased Gracie down into her white-painted crib in a room illuminated by a purple butterfly night light, had switched on the humidifier and closed the door not-quite-all-the-way? When Beth had brushed her teeth, untied the bows of her frivolous copper sandals, unbuttoned her dress once more, and watched Evan hang it in his closet like they were a couple? When he’d pulled the bedclothes back and climbed in with her, turned out the light, then pulled her up close kissed her gently, and said, “Thanks for staying”?
Did she curl up beside him in the dark, enjoy the luxury of sleeping with him the way she’d never had the chance to do, and wonder if he’d wake her up in the night to help her uncover a few more of those wedges?
Nope.
She kissed his shoulder, laid her palm on the slab of his chest, and said, “Both of our moms worry, I guess.”
“Yeah.” His voice was a low, comforting rumble in the dark. “Probably. Did you really tell your folks about me?”
“My mom. Yeah. I really did.” She kissed his shoulder again. “Seemed like the least I could do, for you and me. She’s not a bad person. She’s just . . . overinvolved. And a bit of a snob with wacked-out priorities, because she grew up without money and that seems like the scariest thing in the world to her. She doesn’t always get what makes people . . .” She hesitated. “Good.”
“Huh.” That was all he said, but she didn’t feel tension under her hand, and his arm was still wrapped around her.
“Your mom,” she went on cautiously. “That’s not just about me. That’s about April, too. And I wondered, is she worried April won’t come back? Or that she will?”
Bingo. His muscles tensed under her palm. “What do you mean? She probably just thinks I’m too soft. Dakota said the same thing.”
Beth’s head came up off his shoulder. “Toosoft?Uh, Evan. I don’t think that’s your besetting sin.”
“Sucker for women,” he added, like that would explain it.
“Ah.” She lay down again. “That you’re a rescuer. Because why didn’t I know about your dad, all those years ago? Why didn’t I know about your brother?”
“Because I didn’t tell you.”
“No. Because I was too busy telling you about myself, and I was too chicken to ask you the hard questions when you clammed up. I didn’t seem strong enough to take any of that weight off you, so you never shared it.”
“You were twenty.”
“And what were you when you were twenty? When you were nineteen? I think I know. I saw you with Dakota back then and thought you were going out. You weren’t. You were protecting her. From what, I don’t know. But that’s it, isn’t it?”
A pause, then Evan said, “Not my story to tell.”
Something caught at her heart, there in the dark. Caught, and twisted. “There. There it is. You are such a good man.”
His chest moved in what might have been a laugh. “Not really. You were right tonight. I was taking it out on you. Not fair.” A moment, and then, like it had been dragged out of him, “Been bothering me.”
She had to kiss his shoulder again, then. Had to hold him tighter. “That’s how you can tell, don’t you know that? That’s the test. Whether it bothers you.”
“Maybe.”
“Yes.” She hesitated a moment longer, then asked it. “Are you still in love with her?”
“Who? April? No.No.”
“I wondered,” she went on, determined to see this through. It was dark, and if she didn’t have the courage to ask this now, when would she have the courage to do anything important? “You had a child with her. And maybe it’s that Taurus thing, stupid as that sounds when I say it out loud. You’re loyal. First and last. You always have been. And all this bitterness . . . I’m no expert, but it looks like love to me.”
It hurt, saying it. Acknowledging it. It sliced right through her, because she still hadn’t grown those layers of skin back. If anything, she felt more defenseless than ever, a shellfish who’d lost her shell.
But Evan wasn’t hers. He was hurting, and maybe she could help. She owed him that.
“No,” he said. “I don’t know how to say it more than that. No. If I’m bitter, it’s because she didn’t have the guts to tell the truth, or maybe because I didn’t have the guts to face it.”
“Which of us can face that?” she asked. “Which of us can see that our life isn’t working, and face why?”
“You did.”
She couldn’t answer. Her first reaction was exactly the same as his had been.No.“Wow,” she finally said. “That’s the last thing I’d have said. All this time, I’ve felt . . . helpless. Confused. Weak, if I have to admit it. Weak. I ran out on my job. I ranhome.To myparents.”
