One Reckless Summer Read online

  Yet then Sue Ann had changed her tune, turning reproachful. “But on the other hand, now that I think about it—how can you have sex with a criminal and not be totally freaking out about it?” Sue Ann had always had a bad habit of flip-flopping on issues, but this was getting ridiculous.

  “We don’t know that he’s a criminal—we just suspect it,” Jenny had quickly reminded her.

  Sue Ann had only rolled her eyes. “Okay. How can you have sex with someone we think is a criminal and not be totally freaking out about it?”

  Jenny had sighed. She supposed Sue Ann wasn’t flip-flopping on this any more than she herself was. It was just easy to forget he might be a criminal when he was kissing her and touching her and turning her insides to molten lava.

  More than anything in this moment, she wanted to look at the stars. Not through tree limbs and leaves. And not with Betty and Ed or anyone else looking over her shoulder. Damn it, she just wanted to do…what she wanted to do. Why was that so hard to accomplish?

  Letting out a sigh, she pushed to her feet and walked out on the front porch. The warm night air hit her like a brick, but somehow in this moment it felt better—more real—than the cool, artificial air inside. She glanced across the lake in the darkness. The moon was out and shining bright—a glowing crescent just big enough to help her differentiate between the tree line and the sky. No lights shone in those woods—but of course they wouldn’t, the trees were too thick. Lights from the Brody house had never been visible when she was young, either.

  What if I went back over there now?

  It was late, so surely Mick wouldn’t be out walking like last time. In fact, he was probably asleep. He’d never know she was there.

  And, well, even if he did see her, weren’t they…friendly enough now that it would be okay? Surely he trusted her now; surely he knew she meant him no harm. And she truly didn’t. She was still concerned over what he was hiding, but she had no intention of announcing his whereabouts. Hadn’t she proven that by not telling her dad about him—or anyone else, except for Sue Ann. And she still didn’t think Sue Ann counted.

  She bit her lip, remembering how he’d felt moving inside her, groaning his pleasure. How could a guy question her loyalty after she’d done that with him?

  Of course, he’d questioned it after the first time she’d done it with him, too, but hadn’t things changed after the other night? She’d taught him to dance. He’d kissed her so tenderly. He remembered her cat, for heaven’s sake.

  All tiny things, but didn’t they add up to something?

  And damn it, she just wanted to look at the stars. She just wanted to—finally—feel that sense of peace and acceptance that only the night sky gave her. That sense that there was something so much greater, grander out there than her or her problems.

  Surely Mick wouldn’t mind anymore.

  Surely.

  And with that thought in mind, Jenny went back inside, put on a pair of jeans and tennis shoes, packed up her equipment, and headed for the canoe.

  * * *

  The sky is like water—on this side, the bright, familiar world; on the other, the mysterious depths. Look through the sky, and into the starry depths, and you’ll find more out there than anyone has imagined, or can imagine.

  Timothy Ferris

  * * *

  Seven

  As Jenny paddled quietly across the lake, even more serene this late at night, she asked herself an obvious question. Why is this so important to me that I’m risking his wrath again?

  Then she leaned her head back and took in the expanse of stars above, like a blanket of diamonds lighting her way, and knew the answer. It’s all I have left that’s completely mine right now. There was no more husband, no more home. There was no more job or students or classes. There was her father, and Sue Ann, of course—but they had fully developed lives here already, jobs to go to, places they needed to be. And sure, she’d started to rekindle a friendship with Tessa and Amy, but not well enough yet that she felt really close to them again. So despite an existence here that was slowly growing a bit richer as time began to pass, she still felt adrift in many ways.

  Which had been bad enough before Mick Brody had entered the picture—and now, added to all the other uncertainty in her life, she found herself having crazy, wild sex with a man she didn’t know, and worse, a man who had something to hide.

  So she needed—desperately—to find something to grab hold of right now that would make her feel solid, grounded, like everything was okay, like the world would keep spinning.

  And as the canoe slid up onto the small stretch of sand at the foot of the trail to the rocks, she felt calm, sure, like she was right where she needed to be in this moment—and, well, if Mick caught her here tonight, he’d just have to understand.

  Yet as she began trudging up the hill, waterproof bag in hand, her heart beat too hard, and she felt thankful that darkness had brought with it the loud trill of crickets and other night sounds in the woods—to hide the noise of her steps through the brush and old leaves.

  A long glance over to her left revealed no lights on in the Brody cabin tonight—thank goodness—and actually no sign of any cabin at all through the heavy blackness created by the tree cover. I’m alone here. It’s all right.

  Despite her assurances to herself, though, reaching the outcropping of boulders felt like having survived a gauntlet. Relief flooded her when she stopped in her tracks and realized that, indeed, the only sounds belonged to crickets and tree frogs.

  The next two hours were wonderful. The night was clear as could be, and to see the sky without the “fog” created by city lights was simply…amazing. With each new object she studied in the sky, she felt a little more at peace, a little more relaxed.

  She hadn’t seen Saturn’s rings so clearly since her girlhood. She stared in wonder, studying the planet at 200x magnification, thinking about the 746 million miles that separated her from it. Like always, the very thought dwindled her troubles to a size so small they couldn’t be measured.

  Ready to look deeper into space, she changed her lenses and filters and soon found the Ring Nebula. Most people described it as looking like a sugar donut, but Jenny had always seen more of a tilted halo hanging in the sky, perhaps forgotten by an angel who would come back to get it soon.

  A few nebulae later, Jenny felt like she suspected most people did after getting a massage. She hadn’t been this relaxed in months. And part of her was tempted to stay—to keep looking at the sky all night long while she had the chance. Although Mick had agreed to let her show him the sky, she had no idea if that would really happen. Yet she’d grown tired—it was the middle of the night now—so she simply rolled over on her back on the flat boulder where she sat and studied the Milky Way with her naked eye for a last few minutes, flowing like a wild river of stars above her.

  By the time she headed back through the woods toward the lake, she felt almost carefree. She so hoped Mick would let her show him the stars. She wasn’t sure why exactly, since she usually preferred solitary stargazing, but somehow she wanted him to see what she saw up there—the vastness, the majesty of something so immense and inexplicable. Maybe she thought if Mick could appreciate the sky the same way she did that it would…give them something in common. Besides sex. Not that sex was a bad thing to have in common. She just needed…more. Even from Mick Brody, even if it was only about pleasure, she needed a little bit more of a solid connection with someone she was sleeping with.

  At just that moment, her eyes were drawn to her right, and she immediately knew why—a light had just come on in the cabin.

  It wasn’t much larger than a candle’s flame at this distance, but she stopped in place as soon as she saw it, not wanting to lose sight of it through the trees. Her heart beat faster not with fear now, but with…rank curiosity.

  What the hell could be going on in that house?

  Jenny took a deep breath and told herself to just keep walking. It didn’t matter what was going on�
�it was none of her business.

  Except that maybe it was.

  If she was keeping his secret…wasn’t she entitled to know what the secret was?

  And she so fervently yearned for that connection-that-went-beyond-sex now. The more she thought about it, the more she knew to the marrow of her bones that she just wasn’t a woman cut out for casual sex. His memories, their dance, had shown her just enough of Mick Brody to leave her certain there was more to him than the gruff guy she’d met in the woods. And having him inside her had made her need to know more of him, need to dig deeper, to understand what made him tick.

  Whatever’s in that cabin makes him tick.

  And that light in the window, that tiny, burning light in the night, was drawing her like a proverbial moth to a flame.

  You’re crazy, she told herself as she took the first tentative steps in that direction. You’re out of your freaking mind.

  Yet the cacophony of insects around her made her feel safe—undetected and silent—as she walked, drawing slowly nearer. And as the light in the window got bigger, brighter, it seemed to beckon her. All she wanted was one tiny peek inside. To see what he was hiding. Was it drugs? Or maybe guns?

  If either of those was the answer, she’d know to run, run, run as far away from him in the other direction as she could. She’d know she couldn’t let him seduce her again—no matter what. And…maybe she’d even have to tell her dad. Because drugs and guns were serious business.

  And she didn’t want to see those things when she looked inside his house, but maybe that’s why she felt she had to look, why she suddenly couldn’t be this close and not look—because she longed to see…something wholly innocent there. Or nothing at all.

  Of course, seeing something innocent seemed unlikely at this point, and seeing nothing at all would only mean that whatever he was hiding wasn’t in plain view; it wouldn’t exonerate him. But at least she’d have one more piece of the puzzle. And given that the light had just come on and that it had to be at least 2:00 A.M., she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t see nothing. Something was going on in that house right now and she was about to find out what.

  As she crept silently into the small clearing that surrounded the cabin, though, her blood ran cold. What would Mick do if he caught her out here?

  Well, that probably depended upon what exactly he was hiding.

  Now would be a smart time to turn around and leave. And yet, she’d come too close now—she had to look.

  So with trembling breath that she tried to hold inside, Jenny bit her lip and took careful, quiet steps toward the run-down cabin. She watched her feet in the light now illuminating the area from inside to make sure she didn’t trip over anything. As she got closer, her heart rose to her throat.

  The first window she reached was filled with a big, square electric fan, the blades turning, humming—but a few feet away stood an old screen door, the inside door wide open. Sweat seeped from her pores—from the heat, and from fear. But she had to look, so she stepped up near the door and leaned to peek cautiously inside.

  What she saw made her jaw drop and she completely forgot to try to hide herself.

  Mick sat next to a bed, shirtless and beautiful in the heat—but that wasn’t what took Jenny’s breath away. In the bed lay a man with Mick’s general coloring and features, also shirtless, but he was gaunt, hollow-looking. A small, scraggly beard adorned his face and varied tattoos ran up and down his arms. She knew this had to be Wayne Brody—except that he was in prison. Wasn’t he?

  She also knew instantly why he was there, what was wrong with him. He looked pale, drawn, smaller than he had as a young man. He looked just like her mother had lying in that bed upstairs. He was dying.

  Mick leaned over his brother and said softly, “Doing better now? Getting better?” He spoke gently, but his eyes looked strained.

  The man in the bed gave a slight nod, but looked too exhausted to answer as he managed, “Just tired.”

  “Go to sleep,” Mick said. “Get some rest.”

  The sight made Jenny want to collapse. Or run. She wished she hadn’t seen, didn’t know. This was too awful, in too many ways to even sort out at the moment.

  Just then, Mick raised his eyes, in her direction.

  She sucked in her breath and turned her body quickly away from the door, placing her back against the cabin’s outer wall. Damn it, had he seen her?

  But when nothing happened, she began to breathe easier. She stood there feeling the weight of the telescope in her hand—heavy now after carrying it for so long—and wondering when it would be safe to move.

  That’s when a large shadow came out of the darkness on the other side of her and two large hands pinned her shoulders to the wall, hard.

  Her breath flew out of her in a gasp and the handle of the waterproof bag slipped from her grip to hit the ground below. She met Mick’s eyes in the dark, although he looked surprised to see her, like maybe he’d been expecting someone else.

  Not that it lessened his anger any. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Her words felt strangled; she could barely get them out. “I’m sorry. I just…” Just what?

  He lowered his voice, but still managed to growl at her, his expression no less than ferocious. “Doesn’t matter—whatever the answer is, it’s not good enough.” Then he locked his fist around one of her wrists and pulled her away from the house, across the small clearing and into the woods, toward the lake. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt and she could barely breathe. Where was he taking her? What on earth was he going to do to her now? The power of his anger echoed through his grip, through the very way he moved, and she felt like a rag doll being dragged along behind him.

  Oh God, oh God, what have I done? To him? And to me?

  He finally stopped in another small clearing, a tiny bluff that provided a view of the lake—she caught sight of a thin strip of moonlight glancing across the surface, and of a few porch lights across the water, one of them her own.

  When he turned to her, even in the dark she could see his expression—he looked like she’d just slapped him, and a hard pit of guilt gathered in her stomach. Not that she was sure she was the one doing something wrong here. She wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.

  “Sit down,” he said.

  She did, surprised to find a soft blanket of green grass beneath her—this must be the one spot on the whole Brody property, besides the rocks, where the sun hit the ground.

  Mick sat next to her but didn’t look at her—he couldn’t right now. Instead, he let his gaze fall vacantly over the lake. Only, in his mind, he still saw what she’d just seen. Wayne. Lying in a bed, fighting off pain.

  How the hell did I end up in this god-awful situation?

  “Go ahead,” he snapped. “Ask me whatever it is you want to know, whatever was so damn important that you snuck up to my house in the middle of the night.”

  When she started to speak, she sounded a little frightened, and the part of him that needed to protect his brother was glad. “I…I just…”

  Damn it, he never should have softened toward her, never should have been anything but a bastard. He should have kept her scared and she’d have never come back here.

  “I just wanted to look at the stars,” she finally spit out. “Like before.”

  He turned to glare at her. “Looks like you took a detour.”

  He heard her gulp, audibly. “I didn’t…mean to.”

  “Bullshit,” he bit off before she could go on.

  “I just…saw the light. And you were so secretive, you made such a big deal out of whatever you were hiding, that…I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Yeah, he knew what she’d seen left a lot of question marks. That’s why he’d told her to ask him whatever she wanted to know. Hell, at this point, why not just tell her and get it off his chest. “My brother is dying,” he began gruffly, and he wanted to con
tinue just as gruffly, but something about his own words took the steam out of his voice. He’d never said them out loud before.

  So he went on more quietly, trying to think where to begin. “A couple of years ago, in prison, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He did chemo and went into remission. But then it came back, and it brought leukemia with it, and at that point they told him there wasn’t any reason to treat it because there wasn’t any hope.”

  Next to him, he sensed her swallowing nervously. “But…how did he get here?”

  Somehow, the next part was even harder to say, because he knew what she’d think of him and his family. The same thing people always thought. “He…broke out, with some other guys he knew, and he came here to die. He called me and asked me to come here and help him. Die. So that’s what I did. I gave up my job, pretty much gave up my life, to come back to this godforsaken place and help my brother die someplace other than a prison cell.”

  He stopped, looked at her, tried to read her face in the dark, but couldn’t. So he decided he’d better keep talking, better get to the business of trying to convince the police chief’s daughter that he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong here. Unless you counted harboring a fugitive. And giving him the painkillers that Wayne had brought with him and that were surely stolen. Shit, how had this happened?

  “I’m sure you think my whole family was trash, and you might even be right—but Wayne is my brother. The last family I have left and the only one of them I ever really gave a damn about. I don’t want to be here, believe me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But my brother asked me. I couldn’t say no.”

  Finally, next to him, she spoke, more quiet than usual. “I don’t think you’re trash, Mick.”

  Despite himself, despite how fucking angry he was with her right now, somehow the words sank down inside him and rested there, in a good place.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she said.

  He let out a sigh. “Hell, why not. You know all the important stuff now anyway.”