Surprise flashed in his eyes. Good. He was hearing her. Only he decided to take a different tack. He stepped closer, tugged at the front of her shirt. “Look, babe. You’ve been so swamped around here. And I’ve been swamped at work. What we need is to get out of town, reconnect. We’ll take a mini-vacation. Drive someplace warm, like Sonoma or Napa. We could go wine tasting. French Laundry is out that way, too—I could get us a reservation. It’s one of the best restaurants in the world.”
She knew an instant of temptation, but then pictured Billy in her mind’s eye. She might not know how the sheriff felt, but she had to be free to find out. She took a step back. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why can’t you? I’ll whisk you away.” He stepped forward, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “There’s a spa in Sonoma. You can get a facial. Maybe a hot stone massage.”
Wow, he was good. It’d be so easy to say yes. Hot stone massages and floating in hot mineral pools. She could go. He’d love to take her.
But she knew she couldn’t. She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“What do you mean, not right?” He shook his head, baffled, like she was speaking gibberish.
That nonchalant attitude of his girded her. Damien had always gotten what he wanted. But not this time. She stood tall. “I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you.”
“It’s not taking advantage when it’s something I want to do. For you. For us.”
“I can’t, Damien. I’m just not feeling it.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and for once nothing came out. She felt a pang of guilt. Damien was a good guy—she cared for him. She really did. And she hated hurting him. Because, she was surprised to discover, he looked genuinely hurt.
“What about me?” he asked, his tone subdued for once. “What if I’m feeling it?”
“No,” she said, and the word brought with it a stab of sadness. It was more than the discomfort of delivering bad news—this breaking up thing was hard. She genuinely cared for him, would genuinely miss him. “This is it, Damien. You’re great—so great. You’ve done so much for us. But…”
“Let me guess,” he interrupted. “The old ‘it’s not you it’s me’ line?”
Her shoulders fell, and he laughed, a rueful, regretful sound. “It’s okay, Bail. I’ve given that talk a time or two myself.” He chucked her chin. “It’s not done yet, you know. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”
As breakups went, it felt oddly incomplete. He’d see, though. In time, he’d come to understand that she’d meant every word.
She moped around the house after that, and Laura found her later, sitting on their brother’s bed. It was a good place to think. Representing hope and melancholy both, there was no better spot for wallowing than BJ’s room.
He’d gone to Quantico for Officer Candidate School right after college, and though he’d been away for years, everything was just as he’d left it. A Metallica poster. San Francisco Giants baseball memorabilia. A snapshot of him with his high school girlfriend.
She peered at that photo for a while. Strange that he’d kept it, they’d been broken up for so long.
“Hey,” Laura said, and Sorrow startled.
She put the picture frame back on BJ’s bedside table. “Hi.”
“What are you doing in here?” Laura wandered in, glancing idly at the books on his desk. But then she froze, paled. “There wasn’t any news, was there?”
“No,” Sorrow said quickly, having instantly understood the question. A loved one fighting a war on the other side of the planet tended to make normal things like doorbells, ringing phones, and somber visits to the bedroom cause for alarm. “No word from BJ.”
“Jeez. You scared me.” Laura plopped next to her on the brown corduroy bedspread. “So then what’s got you so droopy? You look like you just lost your puppy.”
“Damien and I broke up.”
Laura smirked. “You mean, you broke up with Damien.”
Sorrow cast her eyes down and picked at the comforter. “How’d you guess?”
“Who hasn’t guessed? You and that sheriff are practically joined at the hip.”
She snapped her head up at that. “We are not.”
“What’s up with that, anyway? Some sort of older man complex?”
“He’s, like, ten or eleven years older than me,” Sorrow said. “That’s hardly old.”
“Whatever.” Laura flopped onto her side, leaning on her elbow. “So, you and Damien. Spill it. How’d it all go down?”
“He didn’t believe me.”
Her sister laughed. “Of course he didn’t. I think the last person to break up with Damien was Paula Richardson in the third grade.”
Sorrow gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, I think you’re probably right.”
“So, what’d he say?”
“He said he wanted to take me away somewhere.”
“Like on a vacation?”
Sorrow nodded. How she’d dreamed of a vacation. But she’d never take advantage of his money that way. “Yeah.”
“So what’d you say?”
“That I just wasn’t feeling it.”
Laura waved her hands, beckoning for more. “And then?”
“And then he said he was into it, and what could he do, and it went on pretty much like that…”
“So what are you going to do? Are you and Billy a thing now?”
Sorrow gave her a sharp look. “Billy doesn’t have ‘things.’ He doesn’t seem like the type. I don’t know if he’s even interested.”
“Duh. Of course he’s interested.” Laura sat up, looking riled. “If I hadn’t lived with you for so many years, I’d have thought you were born yesterday.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why do you think he comes around here? For what, Sully’s cooking? To chat with Dad?”
A tiny match lit in Sorrow’s chest, a small flicker of hope. “I guess not.”
“She guesses not.” Laura shoved her shoulder. “Well? Do you want him to be interested?”
Sorrow felt the blood heat her cheeks.
Laura barked out a laugh. “Sorrrr-ow likes the sherrr-ifff.”
“Shut up,” Sorrow said, shoving her sister back. “What about you, Miss Know-It-All?”
“What about me?”
“You’re quick with the love life advice,” Sorrow said. “Anyone you’ve got your eye on?”
Laura looked taken aback. “In this town? No way.”
“Why do you say that? There are lots of great men in this town.”
“Yeah, it is like walking into the land of low-hanging fruit…” Laura laughed. “But none of them are for me.”
“Why not?”
Laura shrugged. “I don’t know. The guys around here are all so…townie.”
The attitude was classic Laura, and as usual, it drove Sorrow nuts. She crossed her arms at her chest. “Just because a guy lives in the mountains, doesn’t mean he’s backwoods.”
Laura bristled. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it. You were born here, Laura. What, you spend a few years in San Francisco, and all of a sudden you’re better than the rest of us?”
“Not at all,” Laura said, and seemed actually to mean it.
Maybe her sister was being sincere. Maybe she was the one with the chip on her shoulder, reading too much into Laura’s off-the-cuff comments.
“Whatever.” Sorrow waved it off. “It’s just men. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.”
Laura puffed up playfully. “An apology. Well, then.” Her eyes narrowed to an evil glint. “It’s just men, my ass. Little sis, I think you need my help.”
“Help,” Sorrow said flatly, but then she felt suddenly shy. She hated to admit it, but what Laura knew about men could probably fill an encyclopedia. “Okay, say I am interested in him. What do I do next?”
Laura laughed. “Some things you need to figure out on your own.”
“Be serious. What should I do?” Her sister never had guy trouble—she was confident in a way that attracted men. Sorrow had always been confident, too, but until Damien, that’d meant she’d always ended up as the buddy. Everyone’s favorite girl. “I need your help.” She was stumped enough that it didn’t even sting to say it. “You’re good with guys.”
“You’re good with guys, too.”
“Yeah, maybe at playing the part of the girl next door.”
“Jeez,” Laura said with a scowl, “how’d you ever land Damien?”
Sorrow shrugged. “You know Damien. Damien landed me. I think he must’ve been bored.”
Her sister’s eyes hardened. “Don’t say that. You have got to stop thinking crap like that.”
Laura’s vehemence took her aback, touched her. Her sister was right; Sorrow was prone to being too self-effacing.
She considered confiding more, but decided not to go there. The trust just wasn’t there yet. She waved it off. “Okay, okay. I didn’t ask for a therapy session.”
“Well then, here’s a question,” Laura said. “Is Damien going to need a therapy session when you’re done with him?”
He wouldn’t, she knew that. Their relationship had been complicated in its way, offering something they each needed. For Damien, it was that she got him. Being with Sorrow let him imagine himself something he longed to be. He wore a suit, sat behind a desk, was a power player, but that success came with a price—it kept him under his father’s powerful thumb. Whereas she’d understood that a part of Damien longed to roll up his sleeves and be a man’s man, doing things like jumping dead batteries and thawing frozen pipes.
