Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(63)

He parked the truck by the garage and sat there in the dark for a moment, his thoughts in turmoil. Talking about Cherry this afternoon with Rachel, even so briefly, had begun to ease something inside him. If only Rachel lived in the cottage by herself, moving in might not be so complicated. But he would also have to deal with her son, and just the thought of being around that pale, silent little boy made the blackness descend all over again.

The child was an innocent, and he’d tried to argue himself out of his feelings dozens of times, but he couldn’t. Whenever he looked at Edward, he thought of Jamie, and how the worthier child had died.

He drew in a sharp breath. The thought was ugly. Unforgivable.

He pushed it away as he took his suitcase from the truck and headed toward the house. Even though the night was cloudy and none of the outside lights were on, he had no trouble making his way. He’d spent hundreds of nights at this cottage when he was a child.

How many times had he and Cal slipped through a back window after Annie had gone to bed so they could explore? Ethan had been too young to go with them, and he still complained about having missed out on some of Gabe and Cal’s best adventures.

An owl hooted in the distance as Gabe came around the side of the house. His shoes made a soft swishing sound in the grass, and his keys jingled in his hand.


“Stay where you are!”

Rachel’s shadow loomed on the front porch, tall and straight. His lips framed a wisecrack, but, as he made out his grandmother’s old shotgun pointed at his chest, he decided being a smart-ass wasn’t a good idea.

“I’ve got a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

“It’s me. Damn, Rachel. You sound like a bad detective movie.”

She dropped the barrel of the shotgun. “Gabe? What are you doing out there? You scared the life out of me!”

“I came up here to defend you,” he said dryly.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I planned to arrive earlier, but I ran into a little trouble with Ethan.”

“Your brother is a moron.”

“He’s crazy about you, too.” He stepped up on the porch and took the shotgun away from her with his free hand.

She reached inside the screen door to flick on the yellow porch light. His mouth went dry as he saw her standing there with bare feet, bare legs, and the same blue workshirt she’d been wearing the morning the house was vandalized. Her rumpled curls looked like ancient gold in the porch light.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“As you can see, it’s a suitcase. I’m moving in for a while.”

“Did Kristy put you up to this?”

“No. Kristy’s worried, but this is my idea. As long as she was living here, I never believed the danger to you would go beyond threats, but with her gone, you’re more vulnerable.”

He walked into the living room where he set down his suitcase and checked the shotgun. It wasn’t loaded, so he gave it back. At the same time, he thought about the .38 he’d locked up before he left the house. Keeping a loaded gun next to his bed had suddenly seemed obscene. “Put that away.”

“You don’t think I can take care of myself, do you? Well, I can, so just hop back in that redneck truck of yours and go away.”

He couldn’t quite hold back a smile. She did that to him. “Save it, Rach. You’ve never been so glad to see anybody in your life, and you know it.”

She made a face. “Are you really moving in?”

“I have enough trouble sleeping as it is without worrying about what’s going on up here.”

“I don’t need a baby-sitter, but I guess I wouldn’t mind a little company.”

That, he knew, was the closest he’d get to an acknowledgment that she was worried. She disappeared to put the shotgun away, and he carried his suitcase down the back hallway to his grandmother’s old bedroom, which was now empty of Kristy’s things. As he gazed around at the old rough-hewn bed and the rocker in the corner, he remembered how scared he’d get at night when he was little. He used to sneak in here and crawl in with Annie. He could have climbed in with Cal, but he hadn’t wanted his older brother to know that he was afraid. One time, though, he’d slipped in with his grandmother only to discover that his big brother was already there.

He heard Rachel behind him and turned. She looked rumpled and beautiful. The V-shaped crease in her cheek told him she’d been asleep when he’d driven up. He studied the shirt she was wearing more closely and felt vaguely irritated. “Don’t you have anything else to sleep in?”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s Cal’s. If you need a shirt, you can wear one of mine.” He tossed his suitcase on the bed, opened it, and yanked out a shirt that was clean, but marked here and there with various stains that hadn’t come out in the laundry.

She took it from him and regarded it critically. “His is a lot nicer.”

He glared at her.

She gave him an impish smile. “But yours looks more comfortable.”

“Damn right it is.”

She smiled again, and pleasure leached into some of the barren places inside him. He thought about how she managed to find amusement in the smallest things, even with her life hanging in shreds around her.

Her green eyes grew crafty, and he braced himself. She planted one hand on her hip, a gesture that hiked up her shirt a few more inches. She was killing him, and she didn’t even know it. “If you expect me to cook, you have to buy all the food.”