Crossroads Read online

Tess realized he was waiting for a response, and so she also spoke honestly, from her heart. “I don’t want to lose you, either, Mitch,” she whispered, her voice catching.

  He almost lost his courage then. She hadn’t said, “I’ll stick by you, no matter what.” But then, what did he expect? Their relationship was still too new, too tenuous, to breed promises. He probably should have waited to bring this up, until they were on more solid footing. But it was too late now for second thoughts. He’d gone too far to back out.

  Several long moments of silence passed, and then Mitch took a deep, steadying breath. Telling his story to Uncle Ray had been hard. Yet he’d known the older man would offer support, even if he didn’t approve of Mitch’s behavior. But this was even harder. Because there was no such guarantee with Tess. He could only hope and trust that she would find it in her heart to still care for him despite what he had done.

  “I told you once that when I was a cop, my job always came first,” he said slowly, his voice not quite steady. “And because of that, I wasn’t always the best husband. What I didn’t tell you was that I also wasn’t the best…father.”

  He stopped, giving Tess a moment to digest this revelation. He watched the rapid succession of emotions flash across her face as she processed this new information. Confusion. Shock. Uncertainty.

  “You have a child?” She said it wonderingly, as if her ears were playing tricks on her.

  “No. I had a child,” he corrected her.

  She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head. “Had?”

  “I had a son, Tess. His name was…” He paused and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “David. He died when he was thirteen.”

  A mask of shock slipped over her face. “Oh, Mitch!” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s not the worst of it.”

  Tess couldn’t even imagine anything worse than losing a child. “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t have to die.”

  They were coming to the nightmare part of the story. Tess could sense it. She squeezed his hand, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

  “Do you remember you asked me once how I know so much about kids?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Well, I learned the hard way. And too late to save my own son.” He drew an unsteady breath, then let it out slowly. “When Dana died, I was beside myself with grief. And guilt. I realized how unfair I’d been to her by always putting my job first. I gave what I thought was enough to her and David, and I loved them both in my own way, but it was a love that was secondary to my commitment to my job. And I can’t even claim that it was a noble commitment. Sure, I liked seeing justice done. But what I enjoyed most was the thrill of the chase and the excitement.

  “When Dana died, I couldn’t think straight. Even though I dealt with life-and-death situations every day, it had never even occurred to me that my own life could be affected by an untimely death. I just figured that the three of us had plenty of time to be a family, and that I’d get around to it eventually. Then reality hit me in the face.”

  He paused, and a flash of pain seared across his eyes. “You’d think that an experience like that would make me step back and take stock of my priorities. To back off the job and spend more time with the people I loved—particularly my son. Instead, I immersed myself even more deeply in my work. Not because of the excitement anymore. At least I’d gotten past that. But because it was an escape. I simply couldn’t deal with my loss, and I figured if I kept myself busy enough I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

  “And that was a huge mistake. Because David needed me during those months. Desperately. He’d lost his mother, and he needed my emotional support. But I was so caught up in my own grief, I was oblivious to his. For all intents and purposes, I was lost to him, too. My mother, who was a widow, moved in with us and she tried her best to help David, but he needed me. She told me that, many times, but I simply didn’t get the message.

  “That’s when David started slipping away, finding his own way to deal with his grief. Namely, drugs. I had no clue what was happening—that’s how out of touch I was with my own son.” He paused and gave a brief, bitter laugh, his mouth twisting in irony. “Me, the hotshot cop who dealt with dealers and addicts every day, didn’t even recognize the signs in my own son. Until the night of…of the nightmare.”

  Mitch closed his eyes, and a spasm of pain crossed his face. When he spoke again, his voice was raw, his words choppy. “One night my partner and I were sent to check out a deserted warehouse. It was reportedly being used for drug deals. The minute I walked inside I sensed something was wrong. You develop that sixth sense after a while working as a cop. You have to, or you don’t survive. My partner and I split up to check the place out. It was absolutely quiet inside. And dark. All I had was a flashlight. The place was littered with debris. There was so much trash that I almost missed…the shoe.”

  Mitch’s grip had tightened painfully on her hand, but Tess remained silent, her gaze riveted on his face.

  “I was sweeping the flashlight back and forth, and I went right over it. But something…something made me turn the light back on it. It was a sneaker. Next to some crates. And it was…attached to a leg.”

  Tess drew in a sharp breath, and her heart began to beat rapidly. Mitch continued to speak, but it was almost as if he didn’t realize she was there anymore. He was staring past her, his gaze focused not on this safe, cozy room, but on a dark warehouse that held unspeakable horror.

  “I had this…this awful feeling of dread,” he said in a choked voice. “I moved the light up the body. Slowly. Everything suddenly seemed to be happening in slow motion. But finally I got to the face, and it was…it was…” His voice broke on a sob and his head dropped forward. “Dear God! I can never forget that moment! He was my only s-son and I f-failed him. He d-died because of m-me.”

  The knot in Tess’s stomach tightened convulsively, and for a moment her lungs seemed to stop working. The horror of it was almost too great to imagine. How could a parent survive such a cruel twist of fate? No wonder Mitch was still having nightmares about it six years after the fact. Especially since he held himself responsible for his son’s death.

  Tess looked at Mitch’s bowed head. His shoulders were heaving, and though his tears were silent, they were no less wrenching. Tess knew intuitively that Mitch rarely, if ever, cried. And that when and if he did, it was in solitude. He was the kind of man people leaned on, the kind of man people looked to for strength. And he knew that. And lived up to those expectations. But once in a very great while that burden was too great to bear, too heavy for even the strongest shoulders. And this was one of those moments.

  Tess didn’t have to reassess her feelings for Mitch. If anything, his confession made her care for him more, not less. Yes, he had made mistakes. Bad ones. But he had learned from them. Had transformed his life because of them. And while he couldn’t bring back his son, he had given the youngster’s death some meaning by subsequently devoting his own life to helping other troubled teens avoid that same tragic end.

  Tess’s heart contracted with tenderness for this special man who had suffered such loss. She’d always sensed that his character had been forged in fire, and now her intuition had been verified. Despite his own self-deprecating remarks, Tess knew in her heart that Mitch had always been a good man. But it was the trials he’d gone through that had made him a great one. A man worthy of admiration. Of respect. And of love.

  Love. Tess replayed that word in her mind, savoring the sound of it. Until Mitch came along, she had believed that love wasn’t in the cards for her. But he had changed all that. He’d made her feel young and beautiful and desirable. And he’d made her believe in happy endings again. He’d given her hope that her tomorrows need not be as lonely as her yesterdays. He’d opened the door to a whole new world of possibilities. And along the way, she’d fallen in love with him.

  Hot tears rose to her eyes as her heart over
flowed with love and compassion for this wonderful man who gave and gave without asking anything in return. Who was capable of dealing with pain alone. But who didn’t need to anymore.

  Tess reached out to him then, scooting closer until she could wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. His arms went around her involuntarily, and he buried his face in her neck, clinging to her with a desperation that said more eloquently than words how much he needed her, how much he cared for her, how much he trusted her.

  For several long moments they held each other, until Mitch at last backed off slightly to stare down at her. He touched her face gently, reverently, as if to reassure himself that she really was there. “You didn’t bolt.”

  “Did you think I would?”

  “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

  “You’re harder on yourself than anyone else would be.”

  “I’m honest. If I’d been there for David in his grief, he might still be alive.”

  “You were dealing with your own grief, Mitch. You weren’t thinking clearly.”

  “That’s no excuse,” he said harshly. “I neglected David. And he died. Period.”

  “A lot of kids get involved with drugs even when they have attentive parents.”

  “Yeah. But I was never an attentive parent even before Dana’s death. I was always too busy with my job. And both she and David suffered.”

  “Would you do the same thing today?”

  He frowned and gave her a startled look. “Of course not.”

  “Because you learned and you grew and you moved on. You devoted yourself to helping kids, and you’re making a difference in a lot of lives. Like Bruce’s. And you do it with absolute dedication and selflessness. I suspect you’re a different man today than you were six years ago, Mitch.”

  He stared at her. “That’s what Uncle Ray said.”

  “He’s a very wise man. You should listen to him.”

  “He also said I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life alone. And lonely.”

  Tess stared at him silently in the dim light, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. “And what did you say?”

  He drew a deep breath. “That I was scared. Of messing things up. Making the same mistakes. Hurting the people I love. Just like before. But he didn’t buy it. He said I’d changed, and that it was time to move on.” Mitch gently caressed her face, and she quivered under his touch. “I think maybe he’s right,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Tess felt as if her heart was going to burst, it was so filled with joy and elation and hope. “Oh, Mitch!” she said in a choked voice.

  “I love you, Tess.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I didn’t plan for this to happen, you know.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  She smiled up at him, and though the light was dim, there was no mistaking the happiness in her eyes. “Do I look sorry?”

  One corner of his mouth rose in amusement. “Hardly.”

  “Are you…sorry?”

  His smile disappeared. “No. But I am scared.”

  “Join the crowd.”

  He ran his hand around the back of her neck, under her hair, and caressed her nape. “Maybe cautious is a better word,” he said softly. “Because when I’m with you, I’m not scared at all. It’s only when we’re apart that I have doubts.”

  “I feel the same way,” she breathed.

  “Then there’s only one solution. We have to spend as much time together as possible.”

  “I like the sound of that. Except…” Her eyes grew troubled, and though her instinct was to throw caution to the wind and simply go with the flow, her maternal instinct was too strong to allow her that luxury.

  “Except what?” he prompted gently, caressing her nape with his thumb.

  She swallowed, trying to hold on to rational thought for at least another few seconds. “Except I have to think of Bruce, too. And what’s best for him.”

  “And?”

  “And you two haven’t exactly…I mean, I’d want anyone I was going to—” She cut herself off. She’d almost said “marry,” but she suddenly realized that Mitch hadn’t used that word. “Anyone I was going to be involved with to have a good relationship with him.”

  “I understand that, Tess. He’s your first responsibility. Trust me, I respect that. And I like Bruce. He’s a great kid with great potential. And he and I are making progress. How about if we just put this in the Lord’s hands, give it a little time and see how things go?”

  Her eyes misted. “You’re willing to do that?”

  He smiled gently. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease.”

  She shook her head unbelievingly. “How did I ever find you?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question about you for quite a while now.”

  She searched his eyes, and the love she saw made her throat tighten with emotion. She reached up and touched his face, and suddenly he pulled her even closer, until she was again pressed tightly against him. She clung to him for a long moment, then drew a shuddering breath and gazed up at him.

  “I should leave,” she whispered tremulously.

  His eyes deepened in color, and he swallowed convulsively. “In a minute,” he replied hoarsely.

  And then his lips came down on hers, as greedy, hungry and demanding as her own. It was a kiss filled with urgency and need and long-suppressed desires, a kiss that ignited, that consumed, that possessed, that promised. And though they both knew that there were still challenges ahead, for just this moment they forgot the world. As his hands pressed her closer, Tess was lost to everything but his touch. Just as he was lost to everything but the feel of her soft curves and her sweet lips on his.

  In fact, they were so lost that neither saw the shadow of the lanky teenager slide across the hall wall and disappear into the darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Bruce! What on earth happened?”

  Tess crossed the kitchen in two swift strides and took Bruce’s chin in her hand, tilting his head toward the light coming from the window to examine a brand-new black eye that was discoloring rapidly.

  “Nothing,” he replied, trying to pull away.

  “This is not nothing,” she said sharply, leading him toward a kitchen chair. “Sit here while I get some ice.”

  “I don’t need any ice.”

  “Sit,” she repeated sternly.

  He complied without further argument, and she turned away to prepare a makeshift ice bag out of a dish towel. Her heart was pounding, and she had to force herself to take several long, slow breaths as anger, concern and disappointment all clamored for top billing. Anger because Bruce appeared to once again be in trouble. Concern about his physical condition. And disappointment because things had been going so well. But when she turned back to her son and looked again at the angry purple and red of his injured eye, her heart contracted and concern won hands down.

  She walked over to him and placed the bag carefully against his bruised skin, touching his shoulder comfortingly when he flinched. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I know it hurts. But this will keep the swelling down. Hold it in place, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She sank into the chair next to him and reached out to cover his free hand with her own, noting with a jolt that his knuckles were bruised and scraped. “Oh, Bruce!” she said in dismay, rising as she spoke. “I’ll get some antiseptic.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.”

  She ignored him and headed for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, suddenly wondering as she rummaged among the first-aid items if he might have other, less visible injuries. She hurried back, and though she tried to remain calm, there was a note of panic in her voice when she spoke. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No.”

  “Bruce.”

  For the first time, he met her gaze. “No, Mom,” he said firmly. “This is it.”

  She searched his eyes, but saw only ho
nesty. With a sigh, she nodded and set to work with the antiseptic. “Okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “I got in a fight.”

  “I figured that. What about?”

  Her question was met with silence, and she looked over at him. “Well?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, and his gaze slid away. “Nothing.”

  She expelled a long, frustrated sigh. “Come on, Bruce. Fights don’t happen because of nothing. Does Mr. Jackson know about this?”

  He gave her a defiant look. “No. If he did, don’t you think he’d have called you by now?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You guys tell each other everything.”

  Her frown deepened. “Why do you say that?”

  He shrugged. “You hang around together a lot.”

  “We’re friends.”

  “Yeah, well…the guys say you’re more than that.”

  She looked startled. “What?”

  His gaze skittered away. “They say you’re sleeping together.”

  Bright spots of anger began to burn in her cheeks. “What guys are these?”

  “The guys I used to hang around with.”

  The gang. It figured. “And what did you say?”

  “I told them they were full of cr…that they were wrong.”

  Suddenly the light began to dawn. “Is that how you got the black eye?” she asked slowly.

  “Yeah. I was just going to ignore them and walk away, but they started shoving me around.”

  Tess’s stomach clenched. “How many of them were there?”

  “Three. But only two of them hit me.”

  Anger bubbled to the surface again—and with it, fear. If they’d beaten up on Bruce once, they could do it again. And next time he might not escape with only a black eye. Abruptly she rose and headed for the phone.

  “What are you doing?” Bruce asked in alarm.

  “Calling Mitch. Those hoodlums need to be reported.”

  “Mom! Don’t do that! This didn’t happen at school. Besides, they won’t bother me again.”

  She paused in midstride and turned to him. “Why not?”