Home for Good. Jessica Keller
like a dried-up riverbed. We’re still married. Fear skittered down her spine like racing spiders. Of course. As a teen mom on her own, she didn’t have spare money to toss around on lawyer fees.
She balled up her fists. “I want you to leave.”
He shook his head, reached a hand out toward her, then dropped it to his side. “I’m back, Ali—back for good.”
“Why?” The word came out more whisper than force.
She stared into his intense blue eyes, her gaze dipping to the single freckle above his lip. Same dime-sized scar near his eye, the slight tug of his lips—always ready to joke.
He stepped closer. “I need to talk to you. Explain about being away.”
“Just being away? How nice. Sounds warm and fuzzy, like you took a vacation.”
He ran a hand over his hair, cupping the back of his neck as he tipped his head to the side. “I always wanted to come back. But—”
“Stay away from me. Stay away from my son.”
“I need to—” He reached for her.
She slapped away his hand.
“Ali...” He grabbed her elbow, and a thrill skittered up her arm and down into her stomach. She let out a muffled cry. Why? Why, after all these years, was his name still branded across her heart?
Fighting the hot tears stinging her eyes, she jerked from him. “Don’t touch me. Please, don’t touch me.” A sob hung at the back of her throat. “I can’t do this. I can’t handle being this close. I can’t talk to you.”
“But I have to talk to you. Give me fifteen minutes. Please?” His voice flowed, soft and reassuring.
“No!” She swiped at the traitorous tears squeezing from her eyes.
A warm, steady hand touched the small of her back. She turned to find Tripp Phillips, local lawyer, old classmate and friend, beside her. In his usual dress pants and polo, his stability brought an ease of calm to her shaking nerves. She gripped his arm.
“Alison, is something wrong?” Tripp’s voice came out controlled and comforting. He had a manner that made even the most skeptical of strangers immediately warm to him. “Is Freed bothering you?”
“Tripp Phillips, I don’t believe you were a part of our conversation.” Jericho’s voice hardened.
“Rightly so, but I’m not going to stand around while you make Alison cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Ali mumbled.
Tripp turned her into his shoulder. His hand cradled the back of her head as he wedged his body between her and Jericho.
Jericho growled.
Chance chose that moment to come bounding back. “What’s wrong, Mom?” He wrapped his arm around Ali’s waist and peered at her from under thick black eyelashes. “Mrs. McBride liked the pies, but I didn’t tell her about the green worms we found in the berries. Did you think I did? Is that why you’re crying?”
“I’m not upset about the worms, honey.” Ali caressed his tanned face, and Chance rewarded her with an impish grin.
Tripp cleared his throat. “I think your mom’s not feeling well today, buddy. We better take her home.”
Jericho held her gaze. “Ali, I’m not done trying to talk to you.”
Tripp turned and led her away from the monster of her past. Good old Tripp. At least one dependable man remained. If only Tripp had been the one to chase her in high school instead of Jericho, life might have turned out differently. At least Tripp stood by her now, always helping and advising her. His sound counsel lifted a weight from her shoulders, and she was grateful.
Chance twisted around, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Wait! Are you going to be at the fireworks show tonight?”
A chill ran through her veins.
Then that voice from her dreams over the last eight years answered back. “’Course, Chance. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
Jericho wanted to hit something. No, he wanted a drink. A nice, tall amber malt with a high head of foam. Hadn’t wanted that for five years, but there you go.
Looping a hand over the back of his neck, Jericho tensed as Tripp guided Ali away, like an auctioneer showing off a prized mare.
Could Tripp be Chance’s father? Fear sliced through him.
Jericho stalked past the picnic and grabbed the door handle on the rusted Jeep he had found at his dad’s house. So she ran into another man’s arms when he left? And if he was right about the kid’s age, she didn’t even wait for sunset before finding comfort in Tripp.
He kicked the tire.
Maybe he had left Ali, but he’d always been faithful. Always loved Ali, and only Ali. Left because he loved her too much to stay and watch himself destroy her.
Jericho climbed into the vehicle and slammed the door. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was a man to do? He came home to mend his marriage. After all his wandering, Jericho finally felt like a man worthy of being a husband.
Was he too late?
Chapter Two
As Ali drove under the American flags suspended above Main Street, panic welled up in her throat.
She’d have to see him.
“Mom, drive faster. We’re gonna be late to the fireworks.” Chance bounced in the backseat.
From the passenger’s seat, her sister Kate laid a hand on Ali’s arm. “Are you all right?”
Ali glanced back at her son. “This traffic’s pretty bad.”
Kate shrugged. “Everyone is just excited. A week ago we thought the show would be canceled like last year.”
“I still can’t believe the donations the city got at the last minute. Wish I knew who had purse strings like that. I could tap them for Big Sky Dreams.” Ali bit her lip. The worry she felt over the financial problems of her nonprofit organization was never far from her mind.
“This is different. The Fourth of July. People get excited about patriotic stuff.”
“You think blowing up a bunch of cardboard is more important than helping handicapped kids?”
“Now don’t go putting words in my mouth, big sis. You know I think what you do is worthwhile. I’m just saying, the draw for something like this is more universal.”
Ali bumped the truck along the grass-trodden lot being used to park overflow for the fireworks show. The three climbed out, scooped up their blankets and plodded across the fairground’s field, looking for a spot to claim. Ali stopped often to chat with her neighbors, wave to her horseback-riding students and embrace folks she’d grown up with.
As the first explosion resounded in the sky, Ali relaxed. Propped on her elbows, she laid back, watching her son’s face more than the Fourth of July display. His mouth hung slack as his eyes sparkled to match the show lighting up the night sky. He wore a giant toothy grin. She wished she could recapture that feeling in her own life. Would she ever again know that feeling of freedom, of trusting and letting go? Where had her joy gone?
Jericho Eli Freed. That’s where. The man had successfully smashed her hope of a white knight when he ran off like a bandit with her dreams.
* * *
Standing there, ten feet away from the love of his life, watching her smile and sigh, an ache filled Jericho that reached clear to his toes. So his Ali wasn’t all mountain lion snarls and rattlesnake warnings. As she watched her son, softness filled her face. Beautiful. Staring at