Always The One. Tara Randel

Always The One - Tara Randel


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happening? And why did she keep noticing those wide shoulders of his and that lopsided smile that still left her a bit breathless. Surely she should have gotten over her first love…right? Especially when he’d blown up her life once already.

      “I guess I thought small talk might ease the shock.”

      She lifted her head. “At this point, I’m numb.”

      “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

      Her hackles rose at his statement. “I can handle it.”

      “Didn’t say you couldn’t. It’s just an observation.”

      Those pesky tears she kept blinking back made an untimely appearance. She shook them off. “What do you want, Derrick?”

      “To make sure you and your mom are okay.”

      “Tall order.”

      “Good thing I’m a tall guy.”

      Biting back a grin, she rose. Wasn’t it just like Derrick to make jokes in a tense situation? He’d always had a quick sense of humor. It had been one of the qualities that drew her to him the most. Some things never changed…including her feelings? Impossible.

      “I’ve been taking care of us for years, Derrick, without anyone’s help.”

      “Point taken. But I have time off. If you’d—”

      “We’ve been perfectly fine, and will be, without you.”

      “Hannah,” came a strained voice from the living room, cutting through the tension simmering between them.

      “I need to check on Mom.”

      “I’m not going anywhere.”

      With a resigned sigh, she went to the other room only to return to the kitchen with her mother’s teacup. “Mom dozed off and when she woke up her tea had gone cold. The day after chemo she sleeps a lot.” Hannah dumped the tepid remains and refilled the cup with steaming water from the kettle. She glanced at the clock, hoping Derrick would leave soon so she could rest. After everything that had gone on today, she needed time to organize her thoughts and suppress her wayward emotions for a man she’d vowed to forget. “I suppose I should get dinner started,” she said mostly to herself, trying to hide the exhaustion that never seemed to go away. She shook off her fatigue, not wanting Derrick to feel sorry for her.

      She returned the cup to her mother who seemed more awake now. “I’ll fix you something else to eat.”

      “I’m not hungry.”

      “Mom…”

      “I’m also not twelve. If I don’t want to eat, I won’t.”

      “You need to keep up your strength.”

      “Tomorrow. I’ll feel better then.”

      Hannah blinked back hot tears. She knew not to push. Tomorrow would be here soon enough. She bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

      “Back at ya,” her mother teased with their little catchphrase, and what Hannah thought might be a cocky grin.

      “I’m cooking anyway.”

      Her mother rolled her eyes. “Help us all.”

      A laugh escaped Hannah, sounding hoarse and rusty to her own ears. She turned to go back to the kitchen but stopped short in the entryway. Surprisingly, Derrick was at the stove.

      “What’re you doing?”

      He glanced over his shoulder. “You said you wanted to get dinner started.”

      “Me. Not you.”

      He grinned. “First come, first serve.”

      “You sound juvenile.”

      “And you look beat. Sit down and let me worry about the meal.”

      She had to admit, letting someone else cook tonight was fine with her. She sank onto the chair.

      “What smells so good?”

      “I found leftover chicken in the fridge, pasta and sauce in the pantry.”

      Despite the crazy day, her stomach growled.

      “You cook as well as solve crimes?”

      He stirred the sauce, then turned to face her. “I live alone. It’s either learn to cook or order a lot of takeout.”

      He lived alone? Why did that tidbit fascinate her, even when it shouldn’t? It wasn’t like she was dying to know what he’d been doing in the years they’d been apart. Okay, she was lying to herself, but there was no way she was going to broadcast her curiosity.

      She rose to gather plates and glasses from the cupboard and set the table for three, even though she was sure her mother would decline. “Sit, please,” he insisted again, then placed a small portion of plain chicken and noodles on a plate to carry to the other room. “Should I add sauce?” he asked. At her head shake, he left, returning empty-handed. She raised a brow.

      “Mom took it?”

      “I’m very persuasive.”

      How well she remembered. When they were kids, he’d managed to talk her into one adventure after another. She was a stickler for doing things the right way, but he’d been able to coax her to the dark side a time or two. Well, not dark, exactly, but definitely gray in her world.

      Like prom night. He’d picked her up in his run-down car, promising an evening she’d never forget. She’d laughed, excited about the final high school dance. They’d stayed for an hour before Derrick rushed her back to the car and they drove to the ocean. It was there, sitting on a blanket in the sand under a full moon, that he gave her a promise ring he’d saved up to buy with money from his part-time job at the pizza place. The tiny chip of a diamond had glittered in the moonlight. It could have been as big as a carat for all she cared, but the fact that he’d picked it out touched her heart.

      Even though it was years ago, she’d occasionally dreamed about her time with Derrick and woken with a sense of loss she found difficult to shake.

      Derrick dished out the amazing-smelling concoction. She picked up her fork and twirled the sauce-covered pasta before taking a taste. “If you get her to eat even a tiny bit, that’s more than I can do.”

      “It’s been tough?”

      “Lately. Once she gets her strength back I have no doubt she’ll run circles around me.” She took a bite and nearly groaned out loud. “This is amazing.”

      “And it’s from a jar. Imagine if I made it from scratch.”

      She couldn’t. If she had her way, he wouldn’t be around that long.

      “What happened to your dad, if you don’t mind my asking?”

      He pushed aside his fork and she thought she saw him grimace. “He wasn’t feeling good one morning. Got up and went to work, but during the day he keeled over. It was an aneurism.”

      Hannah’s voice was quiet when she said, “I don’t think you’re ever prepared whether the end happens suddenly or if an illness is drawn out.”

      “How long has your mom been sick?”

      “Feels like forever, but it’s actually been a few months. She started coughing one day and it persisted. I talked her into seeing a doctor and, long story short, they found a spot on her lungs. After the surgery and subsequent treatment, we’re hoping for positive results.”

      He covered her hand with his. The warmth radiated up her arm and straight to her heart. Okay, there was still a tangible connection to Derrick that hadn’t seemed to lessen, but no way would she trust him. Look what had happened because of that misguided belief.

      Slowly easing her hand from his, she took another bite.


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