The Player:Moorehouse Legacy(31)
God, they were back where they started.
Nowhere. Except for the passion.
* * *
A COUPLE OF NIGHTS LATER, Joy woke up in a cold sweat, jolted from sleep by the bad dream that had been dogging her since she'd watched Gray go into the fire. In her nightmare, everything was just as it had happened that evening. The smells, the sights, the sounds. Except Gray didn't come back out of the house.
Shaky, overheated, she slid from his bed and padded over the Oriental rug to the bathroom. The marble floor of the bath was cold under her feet and the water she splashed on her face was so icy it numbed her cheeks.
There'd be no going back to sleep, at least not for a while, so she pulled on a black cashmere robe that smelled like Gray and went downstairs. When she got to the first floor, she saw a glow coming from the back of the house.
"Frankie?" she called out.
"No, Alex."
She walked into the kitchen. Her brother was warming something on the stove, wearing nothing but flannel pajama bottoms. One side of them had been ripped open to accommodate the cast and a couple of safety pins held the fabric together above his knee.
He must be cold, she thought, though she knew better than to suggest he put on more clothes.
"You hungry?" he said without looking up.
"No. Do you want help?"
"I think I can handle Campbell's chicken noodle by myself."
God, he was so thin now, she thought, easing herself into a chair at the table. Years of hard physical labor on sailboats had put pounds and pounds of muscle on his big frame and much of that was still with him. The difference was that any small layer of fat he'd had had been stripped from under his skin. His muscles were set in such stark relief, she could see their individual striations.
He took the pan from the stove, poured the steaming soup into a bowl, and then grabbed for his crutch. He carefully limped over to the table and spilled a little broth as he sat down. His face got fierce as he used his napkin to mop up.
He dunked his spoon, but he didn't bring any of the food to his lips. He just stirred.
"Not sleeping well?" he asked her.
"No."
"Nightmares?"
"How did you know?"
"Been there. Still doing that." His brows came together, as if he were forcing himself to focus. Slowly he lifted a spoonful up from the bowl. He blew on it and then put it into his mouth.
Joy let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding.
The soft sound made Alex frown, as if he knew she was glad he was eating and he didn't appreciate her concern.
"It's not just the dreams," she said quickly. "I really can't sleep at all."
"You didn't burn down White Caps. You read the fire inspector's report."
"That's not what's keeping me up."
"So what is?"
"I watched the man I love go into a flaming room. It's not something I'm going to forget."
Alex's eyes snapped up to hers. "So you've got it that bad for Bennett?"
"Yes. But don't tell Frankie. Don't tell … anyone."
He shook his head. "Watch yourself, Joy."
"I know. He's a lady killer. I've heard it all before. I tell it to myself."
"Doesn't help, does it?"
"What?"
"Telling yourself what to feel." He went back to his soup.
"No, it doesn't." She watched as he ate some more, wondering about his private life. It was odd to know so little about the brother she loved so much. "Have you ever been in love, Alex?"
"Yes."
Now that surprised her. "Really?"
He nodded.
"What happened?"
"Nothing good. That's why I'm telling you to watch yourself. Even if Gray Bennett was a model of monogamy, and he isn't, love is one long, rough road. To be avoided if possible."
"Who was she?"
But Alex was finished talking. She could tell by the way his mouth had flattened. The closing down, shutting off, reminded her of Gray.
God, maybe the two of them should go out together. They'd be so damned comfortable in each other's oppressive silences, reveling in the utter lack of intimacy.
"So when are you heading back to the city?" Alex asked.
"Now that Frankie and Nate aren't having a big wedding, I guess I'll go down sooner. And with Libby agreeing to watch Grand-Em, I feel a little more free about leaving."
"Are you going to stay with Cassandra?"
She narrowed her eyes. His tone was so casual, too casual. Especially in light of the tension that had lifted his shoulders and made him grip his spoon as though it might slip out of his hand.
"Is it her?" Joy asked quietly. "Is she the one you loved?"
"No."
"I think you're lying."
Alex lifted the spoon to his mouth. He paused, staring down at the bowl. "Doesn't matter if I am."
"Damn it, it matters to me," she snapped.
Alex's eyes shot across the table.
Before he could say anything, she linked her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Why the hell am I so untrustworthy? Will you please tell me? I mean, do I give off some kind of disreputable vibe? Because I just don't get it."
Her brother slowly put the spoon down. "Who said you were untrustworthy?"
"You are, right now. What do you think I'm going to do? Race up to Cassandra and spill your secret?"
"No," he said slowly. "You won't do that because I don't have a secret to tell."
"Oh, right. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that I have some integrity." She got up. "My mistake."
He grabbed her hand. "What the hell's going on, Joy?"
"Nothing. Nothing is going on. Absolutely nothing is going on."
"Sit down."
"I don't feel like it. Now let go of me." She wrenched free of his grip and went over to a window. Outside, the full moon gleamed in a cloudless, cold sky.
"Yes. I love her."
Joy wheeled around.
Alex wasn't looking in her direction at all. And he seemed to have retracted into himself, his big body more compact than usual.
"Alex … "
"I started loving her the moment I first saw her run into my best friend's arms. It's been a hellacious six years and now that Reese is … gone, there's no end in sight." His vivid blue eyes flashed up at her. "I don't like admitting this to myself. It's got nothing to do with trusting you."
Joy went back to the table. "Does she know?"
He shook his head. "Only you and God do. And it has to stay that way. Do we understand each other?"
She nodded, sinking down into a chair. "Perfectly."
In the silence that followed, she watched as he ate.
"So I'm leaving soon," he said abruptly.
"Going where?" She tried to keep her alarm to herself.
"There's a bathroom with a shower in Dad's old workshop. I figure I can move a bed in to the space."
"But the shop's not heated."
"There's a potbellied stove. I'll be okay." He fiddled with the spoon, running it in circles through the soup. "There are too many people in this house. And I don't like living off Bennett's hospitality."
"Have you told Frankie?"
"Yeah. She blew a gasket, but she knows she can't stop me. I did promise to stay here until my next check-up with the ortho doc. But then I'm gone."
A feeling of unease curled around Joy's heart. "Alex, if you slowly kill yourself, I will never forgive you."
He smiled coldly into his soup. "Trust me, if I wanted to be dead, I'd be in the ground already. I've always known where the shotgun was in the house."
Chapter Fourteen
THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND, Joy watched Frankie and Nate get married in the county courthouse. Spike was the other witness. Frankie wore a tailored pantsuit because the gown Joy had worked so hard on had been ruined by smoke and water. Nate was in a jacket and tie.
Seeing her sister dressed as if she were going to a job interview instead of taking a husband made Joy want to cry for everything Frankie had missed out on. The dress. The veil. The big party.
But the funny thing was, Frankie and Nate didn't seem to mind the change in clothes or venue or plans. Heck, they didn't even seem to notice they weren't in a cathedral when the judge addressed them in his chambers. The two of them were glowing like stars, especially as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.
Joy, on the other hand, felt the losses acutely. Especially as she signed the papers as a witness. It just didn't seem fair, and manufacturer's defect or not, she still blamed herself for the fire.
Following a quiet dinner at a local, 1950s era dive called the Silver Diner, the four of them went back to Gray's house. They'd just walked in the door when Libby called down the back stairs from her room.
"Joy, is that you?"
"Hi, Libby," she answered. "It's me. All of us, actually."
There was a scamper of dog feet and then Ernest shot down the stairwell. He did a quick meet-and-greet of the assembled bipeds while his owner came into the kitchen. Libby was wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe and slippers and her white hair was matted on one side, as if she'd been reading in bed.
The woman smiled at Joy. "You just missed young Mr. Gray's call. He said he was traveling, but that he might try you later."