Kept Page 29
The affair would be Darcie’s, of course. His wouldn’t count. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He sighed again, then groaned. “Miska, I miss you.”
“Don’t say that. Your wife isn’t even buried.”
“I know. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I didn’t want to end things between us. But I talked to a teammate, and—”
She jerked upright. Someone else knew?
“—he said I had to give Darcie a chance.”
Her heart pounded. What if word about their relationship got out?
“You have to know how sorry I am about that day. I was confused. I was… torn.”
What was he saying?
“You there?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I want to see you.”
“No.” She squeezed the phone. “We can’t do that.”
“Miska—”
“If people knew you had an affair, they’d look at things differently.”
“How can you say that? I wasn’t even in the same time zone.”
“You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“I’m on a prepaid phone. Just call this number.”
He thought she’d call him?
“If you need more time, fine. We can wait until the season’s over.”
Three months? What was wrong with him?
“Miska, please. I need you, even if we just talk. Don’t push me away.”
Like he’d done to her. She rubbed her forehead.
His voice shook. “Miska?”
“I’m here.”
He sniffed. Coughed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to fall apart on you. I’ve just never dealt with anything like this.”
Nothing could prepare someone for the loss of a loved one, no matter how imperfect that person had been. “I know.”
“I guess you do.”
Lightning flashed over the lake.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Watching it storm.”
“Wish I could join you. That’d be perfect.”
No, it wouldn’t.
She toyed with a curl. Did she really not want him? She’d be financially secure.
But if she welcomed him back, she’d have to say good-bye to Dillan’s church, to words that made more and more sense, words she was beginning to cling to.
“You’re quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“I don’t know.” She dragged a hand across her forehead. How had things become so complicated? “I just don’t know.”
“About us?”
“Five minutes ago there wasn’t an us.”
“Things have changed.”
Yes, and she prayed he’d had nothing to do with it.
“Look what’s happened, Miska. Fate’s made it so we can be together. I know you want that.”
He had no idea how much she’d changed. He had no idea who she was or what she wanted anymore.
“Have you changed your mind? After everything—” He swore softly. “Don’t do this.”
Whatever she decided, now wasn’t the time to bail. “Mark, I’m glad you called. I’m glad we could talk.”
He snorted. “But.”
“We should wait until the season’s over. That’ll give you time to grieve. We’ll both have time to decide what we want.”
He growled in her ear. “I know what I want.”
She closed her eyes, glad he couldn’t see how her hand shook. “For your family—and Darcie’s—we need time. Okay? It won’t look good if we start dating right away.”
Lightning flashed near Navy Pier. Thunder clapped right behind it, her windows rattling.
“I don’t like this, Miska.”
“I know.”
“I love you. I want you.” He swore again, and something banged. “They’re back. I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”
“’Bye—”
He’d already hung up.
Miska set the phone down.
Mark didn’t sound like a husband in mourning. He sounded like a man eager to get on with life. That couldn’t be normal.
On the other hand, his marriage hadn’t been well for a long time. According to him. Darcie’d had an affair, and he’d never gotten past it. He’d never forgiven her.
That didn’t mean he’d killed her.
Rain pelted the window.
She hugged herself and leaned against the glass, staring at the darkening sky. Hopefully she’d bought herself some time, but eventually he’d demand an answer, and she prayed he’d accept her no.
Because she didn’t see any way that Mark would be part of her life again.
*****
Monday’s storm lasted through Tuesday. Wednesday brought clear skies and heat with a vengeance. The morning air was already thick, the temperature over eighty. Miska ran past Buckingham Fountain anyway, guzzling water.
“Miska!”
She turned.
Dillan jogged her way. He looked great in navy-blue shorts and a gray T-shirt promoting some camp in Wisconsin.
She watched him near, unable to hide a smile.
He returned it. “You look happy.”
“It’s a beautiful day.”
He surveyed their surroundings. “It’s disgustingly hot and humid.”
They fell into step, crossing Lake Shore Drive and jogging down the stairs to the lakefront. This time they turned north, toward the skyline and Navy Pier jutting into the lake.
Dillan panted as they ran. “You hear the latest about Darcie?”
The air suddenly felt suffocating. “There’s news?”
“Yeah. She was a few weeks pregnant.”
Miska stopped, chest heaving.
“I guess she died from an allergic reaction, and the police are still investigating.”
“Still investigating? Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t think it was an accident.”
Mark couldn’t have… Her breath came faster. She eased onto the grass. “Oh, Dillan.”
He sat beside her. “You okay?”
She shook her head. Far from it. “He called me last night.”
“Scheider called you?”
“I know. He’s an idiot.”
“What’d he say?”
“That he misses me.”
His eyebrows rose. “What’d he say about the baby?”
“Nothing. Do you think she hadn’t told him? Or didn’t know herself?”
He shrugged. His gaze traveled over boats bobbing in the harbor. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you go back to him?”
She shook her head.
“Well, good.” He blew out a sigh. “Good. You tell him that?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Dillan, he wanted to see me, and I told him no. He wasn’t happy.”
“He threaten you?”
She bit her lip.
“What’d he say?”
“Think of what he’s going through. It was just stress—”
“You reacted, Miska. He said something that felt like a threat.”
“If I believed he killed his wife, then yes, it could be a threat. But just because he had an affair doesn’t mean he killed her.”
“But add in him calling you and wanting to see you—a man doesn’t do that when his wife dies.”
She rested her forehead against her knees. “I can’t think about it.”
“If he killed his wife, you have to think about it.”
If he killed his wife, Darcie’s death was her fault. That baby’s death was her fault. She raised her head. “Dillan, why do you care?”
“Don’t get off topic.”
“Why do you?”
“This is serious. You have to wonder if he killed her.”
“Yes, but I can’t go to the police. What if it was just horrible timing? Then I’ve ruined his name. I have to know.”
“
What about when he wants to see you again? If he killed her, what will he do to you when you tell him no?”
That had been tiptoeing through her mind. “I can’t think about it.”
“Miska, you have to. He’s already said something—”
“No, I don’t!” She swallowed. “I told him we had to wait at least until the season’s over. I’ve got three months.”
Dillan stared down the running path, his jaw tight.
“What?”
He shrugged, his mouth turning into a frown.
“What?”
“He’ll call again.”
He probably would.
“What will you say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, figure it out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you don’t have a plan, you’ll end up with him again.”
So that’s what this was about. “Let me ask a second time, Dillan. Why do you care?”
“Miska—”
“I want an answer. Why does this matter so much?”
He scowled. “Because it’s wrong, you with him. It isn’t right.”
“You mean…”
“It began as an affair. Nothing good can come from that.”
She jumped to her feet. “Why does it always have to be about right and wrong with you? Why can’t it ever be about people? About me?”
He rose, staring at her.
“All you care about, Dillan, is black and white. Whether what I’m doing is right or not. But once, just once, I’d love to hear that you care about what happens to me for me.” She jabbed her chest with her finger. “For me.”
He said nothing, just looked at her.
“Well?”
He wet his lower lip.
“What? No thoughts in there? Are you going to crawl inside your shell and hide—again—while you demand I share everything in my head?”
His shoulders drooped. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t care about you. It wouldn’t be right, you and me—”
Her fist flashed out and smacked his chest.
“Hey!”
“There you go again. Right and wrong. I’m so sick of it—”
He grabbed her arms. “You don’t believe in God. I do. It would be wrong.”
Inside her, hope crumbled. She jerked free.
“It wouldn’t work, not like you think it would. Before long we wouldn’t agree on anything, wouldn’t care about each other, wouldn’t love each other—”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Love?”
His eyes bore into hers. “You don’t know how often I’ve wanted to tell you what I really think, how much you tempt me, but we can’t get caught—”
“That’s what I am? A temptation? Some evil to be avoided?”
“This is avoiding you?”
“You’re right. You want to change me so you can do whatever you want to me.”
He straightened. “I never—”
“You’re just like the rest, trying to use women.”
“Stop it. When have I tried to—”
She stepped close, almost touching him.
His eyes widened, and he pulled back.
“Oh, that’s right,” she breathed. She looked at his mouth, then up at his eyes. “You’re not like ordinary men.” She shoved him away and raced for home.
Chapter Forty-Three
Dillan clenched his teeth as Miska ran, her ponytail swishing behind her.
Why do you care, Dillan?
She vanished up the stairs. The top of her head bobbed out of view.
A horn blared.
He jerked and strained to see the road.
What if something happened to her? What if Mark was a killer and came after her? Forget that. If Mark was a killer and she went back to him, she’d always be in danger.
He rubbed his chest where she’d punched him. While it had made him angry, it hadn’t hurt. As strong as she was, she’d be no match for a ticked-off Scheider.
And the truth was that he did care. Too much.
Maybe he should tell her.
If she knew people cared, if she knew she had options—
Dillan took the stairs two at a time. At the crosswalk he waited for a gap in traffic, searching for Miska. The spring green of her tank top flashed into view. She was already near the fountain—and moving fast.
He crossed the road and darted around tourists and a biker, barely keeping her in view. He reached the western edge of the fountain and another street. Waited again for traffic to clear. Ran across the bridge above the train tracks.
The street curved to the right, leading to their block. She crossed Michigan Avenue, the walk sign flashing. He pushed himself to catch it, but the sign changed. Traffic pinned him where he was. He leaned over, hands pressed to his thighs, and sucked in air, watching her slow to a walk.
Good.
What was he going to say? What was the right thing to say? A frustrated chuckle escaped. How did he make her see that caring about the right thing was caring about people?
The light changed, and he jogged across the street, a cramp in his side.
She reached their building and vanished inside.
Dillan pushed himself to a run.
At the entrance, he caught a glimpse of her entering the elevator bank. He sprinted down the hallway, flashed a smile at the day doorman, and yanked open the glass door to the elevators.
An elevator was closing. He prayed it belonged to Miska and stuck his hand between the doors.
They slid back, revealing her slouched against a wall.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to convince you that I’m not out to use you.”
She rolled her eyes.
The doors tried to close. He pushed them back. “I do care about you, Miska. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Wow. Such a gentleman. Like when you completely snubbed me at your party.”
His neck warmed. “I’d just seen you with Kendall. You—it disgusted me.”
“It disgusted you? You were going to say I did, weren’t you?”
“It was right after I gave you a ride home. We had fun, Miska. I shared myself with you, and then to find out how you really lived and that you had to be laughing at me—”
“So it’s not about me. It’s about you. About how dumb you feel.”
Man, she knew how to get under his skin.
“Isn’t it?” she asked.
“Can I finish?”
“Go ahead. You’re doing great.”
“I don’t talk to women about things we’ve talked about—”
“What things?”
Like she didn’t know. “About waiting. About how guys think.”
“So?”
“So I did with you.”
She raised one eyebrow, her head tilted.
“Come on, Miska. How can you say I don’t care when we’ve talked? Really talked?”
She laughed. “That’s talking? Yikes. I’d hate to see you clam up.”
Fine. He was done. He stepped out of the elevator. “Have a nice day.” He turned his back, waited until the doors whooshed shut and the elevator hummed. He pressed the call button and turned.
Miska leaned against the wall, her arms crossed.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
She pushed off the wall with her shoulder. “Sorry. I was intentionally bating you.”
“No kidding. Really?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I just apologized.”
He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Yeah. Sorry.”
She nodded. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“You were defending yourself. You said you wanted to finish.”
Oh, he had. “I’m done, Miska.”
“Dillan.” She grabbed his forearm, and he looked down at her soft brown hand. “Tell me why you bother with me. Please.”
He
stepped back, freeing his arm. How honest should he be with her? How much should he say?
Hadn’t he chased her down to be honest? Finally?
He had. So here it went. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
She blinked at him.
“I used to think that was why I couldn’t get you out of my mind. From the day I knocked you and Scheider over, I tried to avoid you. We had nothing in common, you know?”
Her eyes lowered to his chest.
“But I kept running into you. I blamed Tracy, but then she and Garrett broke up, and we still crossed paths.”
She toyed with her fingernails.
“Somehow, Miska, we’ve become friends—of a sort. I’d hate to see anything happen to you. I care—” He gulped down the words. Man, this was hard. “I care what happens to you. I care about you. Every time you’re at church, every time you ask about God, I get excited. I can’t help it. He means everything to me, and I know how much your life would change if you’d follow him.” There. He’d said what he could. He planted his hands on his hips and waited while she worked her fingers.
She started to speak, but an elevator dinged. The doors slid open, and a man dressed for the office stepped out. He sent them a curious glance as he left.
She kept her gaze on her hands. “You said we were friends of a sort. If I became a Christian, how would that change?”
Now there was a place he couldn’t afford to go. He forced a grin. “I don’t know. Why don’t you do it and we find out?”
“Dillan, I’m serious.” She raised her eyes to his. “I’m being completely open with you. How would things change?”
There was honest pain in her eyes. He searched their dark depths. Was she saying she was interested in him? Still? That crush she’d mentioned a few weeks ago? She didn’t feel that way anymore, did she?
He rubbed a hand across his shirt. He couldn’t go there. He really couldn’t go there. What on earth did he say to this?
“Dillan?”
He hung his head. Even if she did become a Christian, would he ever trust her? She had such a wild past. Two athletes at once, some naked guy whose name she didn’t even know—and there was no way they were the first.
Not even close.
Could he ever be serious about a woman like her? As much as he was drawn to her, there was no way they could build a life together. Even someone like Tracy would be preferable to her.