"The bruises Greg left weren't real?"
"They were," Theresa admitted. She looked back down at the floor before adding, "But he didn't mean to do it. He just got excited. And he apologized."
Paige dipped her head, trying to meet Theresa's gaze once more. "How many times did Evan's father apologize?"
Theresa laughed without a single trace of humor. "He never apologized. We got married when I got pregnant, and he was mad about the baby." Her voice dropped low. "We ruined his life."
"Those years must have been very hard on you." Paige sympathized with the choices a young woman had to make, feeling trapped and terrified and not knowing how to get out until the day she had to make a heart-wrenching choice.
Theresa bit her lip. "It was a very difficult time."
"I'm sure it was. But can you see how things escalate? You get a bruise, but there's an apology, and you think it will get better." She took a chance and reached out to squeeze Theresa's clasped hands. "You might think that because Greg apologized the way your husband never would, that the same bad things won't happen to you down the line."
"It was only the one time. Don't people deserve a second chance?"
Paige was a big believer in second chances. And forgiveness. But some things were unforgivable. Like what Whitney had done to Evan. And what Evan's father had done to everyone. "A real man never hurts a woman or a child. Has Greg ever yelled before? Gotten angrier than the situation warranted? Even if he didn't touch you."
"I--" Theresa shook her head, then straightened her back a moment later, once again meeting Paige's gaze. "He has. When he drinks too much."
"Then do you really want this person in your life? Because you deserve a man who treats you with respect. Men who are like your sons."
Theresa's lips pursed a moment, as if she was holding her breath. Then she said, "Do you think Evan believes that's what I deserve?"
"Of course he does. He would never want you to be with anyone who leaves bruises on you. What happened in the past doesn't make any difference to that."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I'm sure because I know your son. He's a caring, loyal man."
"But can he ever forgive me?"
Paige felt her heart contract--actually squeeze down tight behind her rib cage--with anguish for this woman, as well as for Evan. But she never lied to her patients, and though Theresa Collins wasn't her patient, she wouldn't lie to her either.
"Evan and I have been friends for almost ten years, and I do believe he's capable of forgiveness. But seeing you again has been very shocking and sudden for him. Whatever happens between the two of you, whatever hurdles you need to get past--it's going to take some time. And as much as I wish it were so, there are no guarantees when it comes to love."
It was something Paige knew all too well, given her decade of unrequited feelings for Evan.
"I knew it was too soon," Theresa lamented. "We should have written first. But Kelsey and Tony insisted we come today. They were convinced he'd understand. But how can he when I did the worst thing a mother could possibly do to a child? I abandoned him to a monster."
Paige rubbed Theresa's arm in comfort. "Today was just the first step. You were strong enough to take this one by coming to see Evan today. Which means you're strong enough to keep moving forward, no matter the obstacles." She paused to let the words sink in, then added the zinger. "But you need to make a decision about Greg right away. He doesn't sound like someone I'd want in my life, and though I don't know you very well yet, he's not someone I want in yours either."
With a sigh, Theresa finally whispered, "He's got issues. But without him--"
"You will find a man so much better for you."
"I'm too old."
"Never," Paige chided. "You underestimate yourself, how well you've raised your two wonderful children on your own, how you're absolutely capable of being independent again. And it sounds like you're also underestimating the wonderful person you could meet if you gave yourself a chance." Then she smiled. "So ditch the dirtbag."
She was more than a little surprised when Theresa smiled back, small and tentative, but a smile nonetheless. "You're right. And I'm so glad Evan is with a wonderful woman like you."
The surprising statement knocked the smile right off Paige's face. "We're not together. We're just friends." Friends who kissed each other breathless not forty-eight hours ago. "He's married to my sister," she reminded Theresa.
"But they're getting a divorce, aren't they?"
"They are."
"Then why can't you be together?"
Paige wasn't used to people asking her the hard questions. Especially ones that tapped into every last one of her longings.
"It's complicated," was the best reply she could come up with.
This time, Theresa was the one reaching for Paige. One woman to another, both who loved the same man--one as a mother, one as so much more than just a friend.
*
As soon as Kelsey spotted Paige and Theresa entering the garden together, she made a beeline for them. "Are you okay, Mom?"
"I am." Theresa didn't look quite as pale or beaten down as she had when she left the dining room. "I know how worried you've been. So I've made the decision not to see Greg anymore."
Tony grinned wide as Kelsey covered her mother's hand with hers. Paige thought hope flashed in Evan's eyes, but it was gone before she could be certain.
"That's great, Mom. But you can't do it just so we don't worry about you." Kelsey faced her mother earnestly. "You have to do it for yourself."
Her mother nodded. "Paige asked me some questions I didn't like the answers to. And it makes me realize I need to make a change."
"Then I'm so glad." Kelsey's sigh of relief was loud and clear as she pulled her mother into a hug. With Theresa's face turned away, she mouthed, Thank you, to Paige.
"We've taken up enough of your time," Tony said to Evan. "And we've got a long drive back to Modesto. Plus, Kelsey has to work tomorrow. But I'll spend the night at Mom's since I don't have to get back until Tuesday."
Tony was giving them notice: They wouldn't be leaving Theresa alone, at least not yet.
That was a good thing. Paige wasn't sure how long Theresa's resolve would last, especially if Greg showed up with more of his so-called apologies.
After a deep breath, Theresa turned to Evan, her smile tentative, her gaze still wary. "I've missed you."
Just as he had when his siblings said how happy they were to find him and how proud they were to have him as their brother, he seemed utterly lost for words. And as he had then, he reached for his cards and a small pen in his jacket.
"Write your phone number on the back of my card."
Though he hadn't said he'd missed her too, his mother looked ecstatic to give him her number, though her hand trembled as she wrote. When Theresa finally smiled, the expression transformed her face, momentarily revealing the beauty hidden beneath years of pain and abuse and guilt.
As Paige and Evan watched the three of them climb into their car and drive away a few minutes later, she wanted to believe this was a huge step for him. That change was in the air.
But the truth was that nothing was certain right now. Not how he felt about his mother or siblings.
And especially not how he felt about her.
Chapter Thirteen
Evan stood for a long moment, simply staring at the empty driveway, wondering how his brain could be simultaneously blank and full to the brim with a million questions--and brutally conflicted emotions roiling through him. Talking with Tony and Kelsey about their futures, their plans, learning more about who they were, that was fine. Good, even.
Rehashing ancient history with Theresa?
That sucked.
But it would have been unimaginably worse if Paige hadn't been here. Even now, she stood patiently beside him as he worked his thoughts into something resembling order. She'd always made him laugh. Today, she'd helped put everyone at ease.
And she did things to him inside that he couldn't allow himself to think about. Not now.
Not ever.
"Thank you, Paige," he said as they walked back into the house. "I couldn't have gotten through that without you."
Once they were back inside, Mrs. M. immediately inquired, "Can I get you two anything else?"
"Thank you," Paige said, "but I'm stuffed from lunch."
"Why don't you and Mortimer take the rest of the day off?" Evan suggested.
The kind older woman studied his face. Obviously, she'd gathered some of what had happened this afternoon. "Are you sure you won't need us again? Will you be okay?"
The thought jumped into his head before he was aware it was coming: I'll be okay, I have Paige.
"I'm fine." His mantra. One he knew Paige could see straight through.
She wasn't the only one who could see through it now.
It was instinctive for them to make their way to the library, a warm room with comfortable chairs and light streaming in through the garden windows. They both sat on the worn, dark leather couch, and Paige kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her.
They'd often been alone in his library, talking about books or politics or a work problem that one of them was struggling with. But he'd never been this aware of being alone with her. Never so conscious of how her lips moved, how beautiful her smile was. How tempting.
"You must feel overwhelmed," she said in a voice as gentle as the smile she'd given him earlier. "I know I do, and they're not even my brother and sister." And mother. The two words she didn't say aloud echoed between them.
The easiest thing to say was, "Tony and Kelsey--I like them both."
"They're great. Do you want to get to know them better?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation when it came to his siblings. It was only the thought of their mother being a part of the group that made his gut clench.
"You like suddenly finding you have family, don't you?"
He leaned his chin on his hand and nodded, the smile he knew she was hoping to see finally finding its way to his mouth. "They're good people. Susan and Bob would like them." It was a massive understatement. Susan would adore them.
"But?" she asked.
"I didn't say but."
"Sometimes silence is the loudest thing of all." She leaned closer, lowered her voice. "Talk to me, Evan. Tell me what you need. Let me help you."
Her eyes were bright, her skin glowed, and her mouth was so damned soft and sweet-looking. That was Paige--compassionate, wonderful, always taking care of others, taking care of him. And he was suddenly too freaking close to dragging her against him. Too damned close to tearing her clothes off and losing himself in her. Letting her help him forget, if only for a handful of naked, erotically charged moments, what a mess his life was, top to bottom.
That was his worst sin--wanting to take more from Paige, when all she'd ever done was give.
*
Paige couldn't breathe. Not when she felt as if they were on a precipice. With a looming fall whose consequences could be more beautiful than anything either of them had ever known.
Or utterly heartbreaking.
She'd meant to help him with words, with her skills at therapy, not with her body.
Yet if he'd asked, she would have given him her body, her pleasure, everything, if it would help ease his pain in any way.
A thousand times over she'd counseled her patients not to confuse sex with love--but knowing the rules didn't mean she could always follow them.
Especially not when she'd been in love with Evan for so long that she literally ached with it.
She was almost there, so close to offering her aid in a kiss, so close to reaching out the way her heart and body desperately wanted to.
But then Evan shifted back on the couch. Away from her. Deliberately putting space between them as he said, "What I really need is help with understanding why Theresa finally came back. She's obviously known where I've been all these years. So if not for money, then what's really going on?"
Disappointment that he'd chosen not to kiss her again was like a vise around her heart, but she pushed it down. Those emotions didn't have a place in this heavy discussion. Only the honest, but difficult, answer she knew she had to give him. "Forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" Anguish--then fury--rippled across his face. "I remember the first time he hit me. I was six."
She tried not to wince. If she were closeted with a patient, she would ask questions, draw out feelings, impressions. With Evan, she could only bite her lip to keep from crying out.
If only she could cut off her emotions and listen with a purely psychological brain. That was how she got through her days of hearing things that curdled her soul. She listened, she offered aid, she encouraged healing, and she kept her emotions in check. She could do nothing for a patient if her emotions got in the way. It was how doctors and nurses were able to treat children with cancer. Empathy and sympathy without giving away their soul. Otherwise, the pain would kill them, and they would never cure anyone.
But this was Evan. And she had no guard against her emotions or his pain.
"He'd always grabbed and yanked and pulled and left bruises. And there was a lot of yelling, him at me, him at her. But when I was six, he just hauled off and backhanded me across the chest. The blow threw me across the room."
His eyes were bleak now, his voice devoid of emotion. Like an automaton repeating instructions. Her heart bled with the need to touch him. But if she did, neither of them would get through this, and he needed to get it out. She sure as hell didn't believe he'd ever shared any of this with Whitney. Because if he had, it surely would have changed her sister, made her into a better human being, more understanding. How could it not have?
"I'd stabbed one of his screwdrivers through a chair cushion. I was punching stars into a piece of paper. But it went right through the vinyl."
"It was just a mistake," she whispered. "An accident."
"That didn't matter. When she ran to me and said it was her fault for letting me play there, he smacked her across the face."
Paige put her hand over her mouth. She couldn't help the moan of pain.
"I don't think I'd ever actually seen him hit her before. I knew he did, because I saw marks, bruises on her. And because I could hear her crying in pain. But he'd never done it in front of me."
"Evan." Everything inside her wanted to touch him, wrap him in her arms, give him her warmth. But if she touched him, she knew he would stop talking. Stop unburdening himself the way he needed to exorcise his demons.
"After that, it was like he'd broken through some barrier. We both turned into his punching bags whenever he got drunk or just plain pissed. If his boss yelled at him, or he had a run-in with a traffic cop. Hell, he didn't even need a reason. But she knew when it was coming, and she'd try to send me to my room. Or outside to play. Anywhere. So that she could take the beating, instead of me."
Paige thought about the way Theresa had been at the dinner table, keeping her mouth shut as much as possible and speaking very softly when she did talk. It was classic--make yourself quiet and invisible, don't say anything, don't draw attention to yourself.
"A few times I didn't move fast enough. But eventually I figured it out too. I called it his bullshit line. You'd think he was fine. Sometimes, he didn't even seem drunk. Then bam, he'd thunder out, That's buullshhit." She could almost see his father's spittle flying. "Then you either ran or hid. Or you got it. She always got it."
Paige could no longer keep her mouth shut. "That's a terrible way for a woman and a child to live."
"Then she left." He kept speaking as if he hadn't heard her, lost in horrible memories. "I came home from fourth grade one day, and she was gone. He said she was sick of me. That she must have hated taking care of me so much she couldn't stay one more second."
He'd been nine years old. Abandoned to a monster. "Oh God, Evan. I'm so sorry."
"I can step back now and see what it wa
s like. He was pissed about having to feed me, clothe me, pay for anything at school. And he'd made her life a living hell because of it." He shook his head as if to try to clear it. "I'm not heartless. I see how bad she had it." He stopped, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "But she rescued them."
The words he didn't say all but shouted into the room: Why didn't she rescue me?
"He went crazy after that. He didn't have anyone else to hit. Just me. I couldn't hide from him anymore. He sent a note to the school saying I was sickly and he refused to allow me in gym class anymore. So I never took my clothes off. I always wore long sleeves and long pants. Nobody ever saw."
No one ever saw him cry, never saw his pain. No one knew.
Until the Mavericks found him.
"How long did you live alone with him before you moved in with Susan and Bob?"
"A couple of years."
She couldn't make a sound. Not even a gasp of horror. Not now that she knew he'd endured seven hundred and thirty days in the worst kind of hell.
But then Evan laughed. Like he wasn't dying inside with all the memories. Memories she'd never be able to shake, though they weren't even hers.
"Susan and Bob. You had to love them. I came home with Daniel one day after school, and Susan and Bob just gathered me right in. Like they did all the Mavericks. Sometimes I spent the night. One of those times, Susan made me take a bath, because I must have stunk the way only a dirty teenage boy can. I was standing there with a towel wrapped around my waist when she walked in to get my clothes so she could wash them."
He stopped, drew inside himself again.
"She saw the bruises?"
A barely there nod was his answer.
"Did they call child services?"
"They wanted to make sure I came to them, not shunted off into the system to end up with strangers, like what happened to Ari. They sat me down at the kitchen table and made me tell them my story." He huffed out a breath with the memory. "It was like pulling out every single one of my teeth."
It explained why he'd flown off to Europe last month. When under the strain of discovering Whitney's lies, he'd shut down, shut everyone out. He'd learned to do that in childhood.
"I remember them strategizing. Bob, he had it all figured out, what would get my dad to let me go."
"They're good people."
"The best," he agreed. "I wasn't with them when they approached him. They figured it would go better without me--and I was scared he'd demand to keep me around as his punching bag. They told him they sympathized with how much kids cost, the terrible financial burden." Evan dropped his voice to a gravelly note as if he were Bob. "Especially with his wife gone, all that responsibility, no one to take care of a kid during the day when he had to work. They understood how it was just too much. So they'd be happy to take me off his hands, relieve his burden." His face turned dark again, his tone suddenly hoarse. "Thankfully, he couldn't wait to get rid of the little guttersnipe. Said I was a pain in the ass, had always been a pain in the ass, and no amount of trying to fix me was ever going to do a damn bit of good."