Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(51)

“Are you?” Leslie asked.

“I will be. I’m draining it out right now. The emotion…the disappointment…”

“Katie…”

“He might have left out a few details, but he never lied to me. There were things he didn’t tell me, but then there were a couple of things I didn’t tell him. In fact, one major thing.”

Leslie reached toward the tub and captured one escaping curl of Katie’s hair and tucked it behind her ear. “What, honey? What didn’t you tell him?”

“Oh,” she said, a fresh crop of tears rolling soundlessly down her cheeks. “That even though I didn’t want to and didn’t plan to, I fell a little bit in love with him. I knew better. I knew it wasn’t going to last. Because he didn’t want it to…”

“Sweetheart…”

“If my heart hurts right now, whose fault is that? Not his.”

“I could find ways to blame him.”

“No,” she said, “it’s not his fault. I made the classic female mistake. When I realized how good we were together, I thought his agenda would change. I thought being with me would change him. And I wasn’t kidding myself about how good we were. I was just kidding myself about the agenda.”

“There are so many things a man can do to ease the pain and disappointment.”

“Like promise to call?” Katie asked with an empty laugh. “Well, he did, and he was sweet, but it didn’t help. Or maybe he should swear he’ll be back when he won’t? Like give hope where there is clearly none? He’s right about one thing—once I get beyond this, I’ll be better off. Because I need a lot more in a man than someone who has no faith in his own ability to stick around. Loser,” she added, wiping a tear away.

“Um…why are you in the tub?” Leslie asked.

“The boys. They’re all rough and tumble and bad unless I cry, something I almost never do. It really bothers them if they see me cry. They’re such typical little men. They want to make it better.”

Leslie laughed. “I’ve given Conner a couple of test cries, usually associated with ovulation, and you’re right—men can’t just listen and comfort. They need it resolved in five minutes. You’re getting kind of pruny. Do you have a lot more crying to do?”

“I might, yeah. But maybe not for right now.”

“Katie? Has there been anyone since Charlie? I mean besides that dentist back in Vermont…”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and unplugging the tub drain with her toe. She reached for the towel and Leslie passed it. “I was considering the dentist because there wasn’t much chance he was going to make me cry like this. You have to have a real emotional investment in a man to cry your heart out when he dumps you or…or deploys. The dentist did make me cry for Charlie, though. The blandness of my relationship with the dentist made me long for the commitment and passion Charlie always had for me. I mean, Charlie definitely had his character flaws, but there’s just no substitute for knowing your man belongs to you completely. Oh, God, I missed that passion Charlie had for me.” She stood up and wrapped the towel around herself. “Be careful what you pray for.”

“Well,” Leslie said, standing up and reaching for the robe on the door hook. “You’ll forget Dylan in no time,” she said hopefully.

“Sure,” Katie said doubtfully. “Of course.”

Leslie held the terry robe for Katie and for a moment, in wordless communication, they shared the same thought—it didn’t matter if it was two weeks or two years. If the chemistry was powerful, if the heart shattered, healing was going to take time.

“Please take Conner home,” Katie said. “Thank you for letting me talk, but will you please get him out of here? And tell him I’m just not ready to go over this with him. Not right now.”

“Sure, I understand. You know, he only wants to help.”

“Yes, I know. And he’ll have a terrible time understanding that there’s nothing he can do for me.”

“Sure. Absolutely.” Then Leslie gave her a hug. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please, call me if you need me sooner.”

“Of course I will.”

They talked softly for just a minute more, then Leslie left Katie alone.

Leslie found Conner pacing in the living room, a very agitated expression on his face. The second he saw her he pointed at the newspapers and said, “Are you going to explain this?”

“Yes, Conner. We’re going to leave now and I’ll tell you about it. Boys?” she yelled. Two little heads popped over the loft rail. “We’re going home now. Be nice to Mommy and stay out of her hair.”

“She crying some more?” Andy asked, his little eyebrows scrunched in concern.

“Not so much,” Leslie said. “But she might need quiet time. Be very sweet to her. Will you?”

They both nodded obediently and it made her smile. Those boys were going to grow up to take good care of their mother.

Once in Conner’s truck, the first order of business was to explain that Dylan Childress was no ordinary biker or pilot. He was an ex-star who’d built himself some kind of life in Montana, away from the cameras and press.

“Then what was he doing here?” Conner wanted to know.