The Real Mr Right

Bree speared a hunk of the pie, pointed it at him. “What I said earlier? About how you intimidated her when we were kids? That wasn’t only because you were being a butt, but because Kelly wasn’t exactly the most secure chica in Jersey. Her parents... I swear, she couldn’t go pee without their permission. Frankly, I think the only reason they let her come over was because they figured—rightly—there’d be no funny stuff with Dad around.”

She finally pushed the bite into her mouth. “Anyway...even if watching Rick and Kelly together gave me the willies, I figured as long as Kell was happy, what business was it of mine? But then Rick lost his job, and, well... I worried then how that would impact their—” she pressed her lips together for a moment “—balance. Because I got the feeling, even from reading between the lines when she wrote, that she finally started to find her footing the same time he lost his. And that he didn’t take it well.”

“Score one for you,” Matt said, and Bree made a tick mark in the air. “Kelly ever say Rick...hurt her?”

“Physically? No. But I could definitely tell Kelly wasn’t happy. So, frankly, I was relieved when she admitted she’d asked for a divorce. I also know how much it must have wrecked her.”

“So she said. She also indicated things got worse with Rick after that.”

Bree sighed. “That would not surprise me. But here’s the thing about Kelly. Two things, actually. One, she’s fiercely loyal. Even in school she was never fickle with her friendships, like so many other girls were. Which was why it was so hard for her to split from Rick. And why, maybe, she might not be telling you, or even being totally honest with herself, about how bad things were between them. I mean, who knows, right? But she’s also law-abiding to a fault—no going over the speed limit, no crossing against the light. Made me nuts when we were younger, until I realized that, for her, obedience equated security.” She twisted to dig her phone out of her purse beside her on the seat. “So if she is violating that agreement, she must have a really good reason. Honey, believe me—you’re never gonna find anyone more trustworthy, I swear.” Glancing over as she rummaged, she said, “That help?”

“Yes. And no.”

“I know, sweetie,” Bree said gently, reaching over to squeeze Matt’s wrist before, her phone retrieved, she flicked her hair over her shoulder, then scrolled through her contacts. “Did she give you her cell number?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his own phone and reading it off.

“That’s the one I have. I’ll call her tonight. But you be sure she has my number, too.” Then she stood and dropped her phone back in her purse. “And unfortunately, I’ve got an appointment downtown in twenty minutes—”

Matt grabbed the check. “You go, I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“For God’s sake, Bree—”

Laughing, she hugged him, then scooted through the lunchtime crowd, leaving him with that bittersweet feeling he got every time they parted that she didn’t need him anymore. Hadn’t, actually, in a very long time.

Outside the wind had died down, giving the feeble winter sunshine half a shot at warming the poor slobs hustling through the concrete canyons. Hands plowed into the pockets of his Giants jacket, Matt slowed his pace, half-heartedly glancing in store windows as he meandered back to his car. Normally he’d be champing at the bit to blow this town, get back home. Except currently that meant returning to something he was less sure how to handle now than he had been this morning.

And it was driving him crazy that he wasn’t becoming more sure-footed as he got older.

His entire adult life, he’d relied on his instincts to guide him. On the traits that made him who he was, that had propelled him into law enforcement without a second thought. Traits he’d assumed would make him a good husband. A good man. For someone who’d only ever wanted to do the right thing—at least, once out of the clutches of adolescence—it had come as a shock to discover that not everyone defined right, or even good, the same way.

Like, say, his ex-wife.

Oh, in theory he understood why his marriage fell apart. God knows Marcia had told him often enough, and plainly enough, that his breathing down her neck with wanting to take care of her made her crazy. But Matt’s only motive had been to make sure she was safe, that her brakes were good and her tires inflated, that she locked all the doors when he had to work late, that she didn’t take unnecessary risks when she was out late.

Just like his father had done for his mother. Who, as far as Matt could tell, had never had an issue with being taken care of. Watched out for. A good example, he’d thought. Only, according to his ex, his attitude was out-of-date, paternalistic and condescending.

He still didn’t get that.

Speaking of his dad, who needed to know he had a houseguest... Matt pulled his phone out of his inside pocket, took a breath and dialed.

“Matt!” his father boomed in his ear. “What’s up?”

Even at nearly seventy, Preston Noble still sounded like a man half his age. But with an aura of omniscience—not to mention omnipotence—that had kept all of them in line as kids. And his father still commanded both deference and respect, Matt thought on a wry smile. He loved his old man, was more grateful than he could say that he and Jeanne had taken Sabrina and him into their home, their hearts. But it wasn’t always easy living up to the Colonel’s expectations. Or sometimes even knowing what those expectations were.

Along with a dozen fellow pedestrians, he stopped at a side street to let a line of honking cars wade through the bumpy intersection. “How’s Uncle Phil and Aunt Vickie?”

“Fine. And something tells me you didn’t call to ask about them.”

A thousand miles away and he still didn’t miss a trick. “Okay, I’m not.” He squinted into the traffic. “You remember Kelly McNeil?”

“Considering she basically lived at our house for ten years? Of course.” A truck driver blasted his horn at some woman on her phone who’d darted out in front of him. “Where are you?”

“In the city,” Matt shouted over the din. “Came in to see Bree. Anyway... Kelly. She’s at the house. With her kids.”

“She is? How come?”

The light changed. Matt fell in step with the herd surging across the street, filling in his dad as he walked. When he finished, his father released a breath.

“And you’re going to help her.”

An order, not a question. Now it was Matt’s turn to sigh, his breath frosting around his mouth. “Not sure what I can do—”

“Your mother loved that girl, you know. Or maybe you don’t. Of course, Jeannie would have taken in every needy kid in the world, if she could have,” Preston said on a slight laugh. “But that one had a special place in her heart. She said Kelly always seemed so...fragile. Like she’d break if you looked at her funny.”

Before Matt could interject, his father continued. “Her parents’ fault, if you ask me. They were good people, don’t get me wrong. And your mother and I liked them well enough. But there’s a fine line between protecting your kids and smothering them. And they crossed it.”

“Huh. Sabrina said pretty much the same thing.”

“We could never figure out how the girl could hang around your sister—hell, any of you kids—and not have some of that spunk rub off on her. But it didn’t. At least not before her father died, and her mother and she moved away.” He paused. “How’s she doing?”

“Hard to tell. Although I think she found that spunk. At least enough to get herself and her kids out of what sounds like a bad situation.”

“Spunk, hell. That takes guts. Which you know.”

His father was only echoing what Matt had said to Kelly that morning. Words Matt had meant with every fiber of his being. So why did he feel like rats were gnawing at him from the inside out?

“So you’re okay, then,” he said, “with her being here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Can’t tell you how often your mother mentioned Kelly after they moved. Asked Sabrina if she’d heard from her, how she was making out. And I know for a fact if Jeannie were still here, she’d be gratified that Kelly felt she could come to us. So you take good care of her. And as it happens...I was going to call tonight, anyway. Think I might stay down here a little longer.”

“Really? How much longer?”

“Haven’t decided.” Pop laughed. “Although the way the weather’s been up there, I may not come back until June. I didn’t figure you’d mind.”

“Um, no, of course not—”

“Abby okay? The other boys?”

The “boys” being Matt’s adopted brothers. Tyler, the youngest, was always “okay,” as far as Matt could tell, his salvage business growing like gangbusters as he went through girlfriends like popcorn. Matt’s older brother, Ethan, however, was another case entirely, parenting four kids on his own after his wife’s death three years earlier.

But they were all adults now, making their own choices and decisions. After raising them, not to mention everything their father had gone through during their mother’s illness, the old man deserved to live his own life. Have a little fun. Soak up the Florida sunshine. So Matt reassured the Colonel they were all good, to go frolic with the gators as long as he liked.

The call finished, and it occurred to Matt that, actually, the whole making-your-own-choices thing was a crock. Or at least a myth. Especially when fate had other ideas.

Because if it were up to him, he thought, stopping in front of a toy-store window, he’d still be married. Maybe a dad himself by now. If it were up to him—he went inside, just to look—redheaded crushes from his past would have stayed in his past, not shown up in his present to seriously mess with his head. If it were up to him—he picked up a Star Wars LEGO set, put it back, picked it up again—his sister would have given him every reason to boot said redhead back to Haleysburg to work out her problems with her ex. And his father wouldn’t have twisted the knife by playing the your-mother-would-have-wanted-this card.