Isabelle nodded. “As soon as I know it’s safe, I want to bring two more foster children into my home.”
He was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke, his tone was one of bleak acceptance. “I can’t be a father.”
“I’m not asking you to be. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I certainly know better than to depend on you or cling to you. I’m a big girl, Grant. I knew the score the moment you stepped through my door.”
“I wish I was so certain. A part of me is tempted to stick around and see where this goes.”
Whoa. That sounded suspiciously like he meant he wanted to try having a relationship with her. That didn’t sound like the carefree Grant she thought she knew.
His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “But it’s different when kids are involved. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.”
That little bubble of joy at the thought she and Grant could try to stay together burst. He was just like all the other men she knew. None of them wanted to be saddled with someone else’s kids. None of them wanted to stay.
Anger sharpened her words. “No one’s asking you for any kind of commitment. We had sex. It was great sex, but I’m not some little girl who can’t separate a romp in the sheets from a real relationship. You don’t have to be worried.”
“I’ve never once worried that you would try to hold on to me. In fact, it’s just the opposite. We share a past, and you know what a rare and valuable thing that is for us. Maybe I’m the one who wants to cling a little.”
Isabelle blinked twice before she could speak. “You do?”
Grant gave a casual shrug, but his tight jaw told her just how tense he really felt. “Maybe.”
“I’m sorry, Grant. I won’t change my life plans for a maybe. Heck, I wouldn’t even change my plans if you were on your knees with a diamond ring in your hands. I know what I want to do with my life, and I’ll find a man who shares my dreams or I’ll do it alone.”
Grant’s eyes went wide, and he looked a little sick. “God, Isabelle. Is that what you thought I meant? I’d never ask you to change for me. What you’re doing is too important. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I just wanted you to know that this thing between us can’t go any farther. It would never work out. I wanted you to know that I knew it, too. That way, if I do cling a little, at least we’ll both know where we stand.”
She knew exactly where she stood. Alone.
No. Not alone. She’d have her kids, and that would be more than enough for her. If she found a man someday, it would be a blessing, but if not, she’d be fine. Better than fine.
Sex with Grant had taken the edge off her inconvenient hormones, and all she needed now was a good night’s sleep. After that, she’d be good as new, ready to face her life and figure out how she was going to manage to hold on to her career and keep the people she loved safe.
No problem.
Grant had just sat down to eat reheated takeout when Dale came home. There was pep in Dale’s step that hadn’t been there before and the flush of infatuation on his cheeks. He tossed his backpack on the floor and went straight for the refrigerator.
“How’d the tutoring go?” asked Grant.
“Great. She’s smarter than she thinks she is. She just needed someone to explain it to her so she’d understand.”
“And that someone was you, huh?”
“Yep.”
Isabelle’s untouched plate was still sitting on the table. “If you’re hungry, you can eat Isabelle’s dinner. She went to bed.”
Dale’s head popped up over the refrigerator door and his eyes were bright with concern. “She okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.”
Dale grabbed the plate and slid it into the microwave. “No kidding. I was only listening when her car crashed, and I’ll probably sleep until noon tomorrow.”
Grant grunted. “If you’re like most young men, sleeping until noon is the norm.”
Dale sat down across the table and started shoveling food into his mouth. “Not for me,” he said around a bite of eggroll. “Saturday morning study group.”
Grant gave him a sympathetic wince. “You really are putting in the hours. Is it helping?”
Dale shrugged as if he didn’t care, but the tension flowing through his body told Grant his nonchalance was a lie.
“You said you already know the answers to the test, they just don’t come out when you get nervous.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, if you already know the answers, then why do you keep going over them again? That’s not your problem.”
“And you know what my problem is?”
“Sure do. Performance anxiety.”
Dale scowled. “Isn’t that what guys call it when they can’t get it up?”
Grant held back his laugh, but he was sure he’d damaged something internally in the effort. “Yeah, I’ve heard it called that, too, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Good. ’Cause my dick works fine, and even if it didn’t, it’s none of your business.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Can we focus on something other than sex for a minute here?”
Dale lifted a dark brow. “I’m seventeen. What do you think?”
Grant did laugh then. He couldn’t help it. “Right. I’ll make this quick. I think I know how to help you.”
Dale looked skeptical, but interest lighted his eyes and Grant had his full attention.
“Have you ever done practice questions outside of the actual test?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“How did you do?”
“Fine. I aced them.”
“But during the actual test, you get nervous, right?”
“Yeah. So what?” He was getting defensive, and that wasn’t going to do either of them any good.
“Everyone gets nervous, man. It’s just one of those normal body reactions. The trick is to keep it from messing you up.”
“How do you do that?”
“You learn to control your body better. You keep your breathing slow and steady, which helps keep your pulse down. If you don’t have a ton of adrenaline pumping into your system, you can concentrate better.”
Dale shook his head, giving Grant a disgusted sneer. “Yeah, right. That woo-woo shit doesn’t work.”
“Sure it does. It’s how I became a sniper.”
Dale’s eyes flew wide. “You were a sniper?”
“Sure was.”
“That’s so cool. Do you have your gun here with you?”
He did, but there was no way Grant was going to let on. His rifle was tucked away in his trunk, inside a locked box only his fingerprints or a diamond-tipped saw blade could open. That box was bolted to the frame of his Mustang, and, God willing, it was going to stay there.
“Focus, Dale. This isn’t about weapons. It’s about you passing your test so you can get into a good college and make something out of your life.”
Dale put his fork down, even though the plate was only half-empty. “I’m listening.”
And he was. Grant could see him listening with every part of his body, poised on the edge of his chair, ready to do whatever it took. Doing well on this test was important to him, and Grant was going to see to it that he did everything he could to help Dale succeed.
Maybe he did have something to offer Dale, after all. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
A strange feeling swelled inside Grant as he quickly determined the best way to help Dale with what he knew. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was, but he liked it. Later, maybe he’d try to figure it out, but for now, it was enough to know that he could help Isabelle’s son.
“What do I do?” asked Dale.
“First, you need to learn how to breathe.”
“Breathe? I kinda got that one down.”
Grant shook his head. “Not really. You’ll see what I mean in a minute. Just hang in there, okay?”
“If it will help me nail the SATs, I’ll stand on my head and gargle peanut butter.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” said Grant. “That’s lesson two.”
Trina felt the rush of victory course through her system. She’d done it. She’d figured out how to get that metal rod out of the toilet, and now it was clutched in her hand, hidden under her body, waiting for her husband’s killer to come back.
She lay on the bed, forcing herself to stay still and feign sleep. The squeak of floorboards overhead warned her that he was back. He’d be coming for her soon, and when he did, she’d ram her hard-won weapon into his eye and shove it into his brain until the fucker died twitching.
Her hand sweated around the lever attached to the rod, making her grip slippery. She wished she could have wrapped the washcloth around it, but she needed that to hide the hole left in the toilet tank. If he saw that, he’d know what she was doing.
Trina’s fingers tightened, and she swore to herself she would not let the thing slip. She was only going to have one chance at killing him. She was pretty sure he’d never give her another. If she failed, he’d kill her just as he’d killed Henry.
Gentle Henry. He was gone. She’d never again feel the warmth of his touch or hear his deep, booming laugh. How was she going to live without him?
Trina scrubbed the tears from her eyes and gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to think about that now. For now, it was enough that she needed to kill this man for what he’d done to Henry. After he was dead, then she’d let herself fall apart, but not now.
The light switched on in her prison cell and Trina’s body tensed. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even, praying he’d believe she was sleeping. He’d woken her before so she could eat. She was sure he’d reach down and shake her shoulder again.
Only this time, she’d plunge that rod into his eye.
The lock grated open, the knob turned, the door swung out, and his heavy footsteps landed on the concrete floor, getting closer.
“Time to eat,” he said. “Wake up.”
She stayed still and breathed. Through a tiny crack between her eyelids, she saw his shadow fall over her body.
Revulsion coursed through her that even that much of him had touched her. And yet she waited for his hand to shake her shoulder, knowing she had no choice but to let him touch her even more.
When he did, when Trina felt his beefy hand make contact, she lunged with her hidden weapon, crying out with every bit of anger and fear and grief she could find. Her aim was good, and that rod was headed right for his eye. Then a split second later, she flew across the room and slammed hard against the wall.
“Bitch!” he shouted.
Trina’s head spun, and it was hard to keep her eyes open. Pain pounded against her skull, making it hard to think.
Lying on the floor at his feet, the metal rod gleamed. There was no blood. She hadn’t even grazed him.
His blue eyes blazed with anger, and he reached down, grabbing her around the throat. He lifted her up the wall, choking off her air.