Heart of the Storm

Heart of the Storm Shannon Stacey Brody Rollins is back in Tucker's Point, Maine, for the first time in five years, but he's not staying long. His plan is to go in, meet his new baby nephew, and get out. Then a winter storm takes a turn for the worse, and Brody can't escape…from former neighbors, old regrets or painful glimpses of his ex-fianc?e.When Delaney Westcott runs into Brody at the town's emergency shelter, she's shaken. She wants nothing to do with the man who left her—and Tucker's Point—without so much as a goodbye. Being cooped up with him in a high school gym is stirring up more than just bad memories, though, and soon Delaney finds herself confiding in Brody. But will he have any reason to stay once the blizzard ends? Heart of the Storm Shannon Stacey www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Brody Rollins is back in Tucker’s Point, Maine, for the first time in five years, but he’s not staying long. His plan is to go in, meet his new baby nephew, and get out. Then a winter storm takes a turn for the worse, and Brody can’t escape…from former neighbors, old regrets or painful glimpses of his ex-fianc?e. When Delaney Westcott runs into Brody at the town’s emergency shelter, she’s shaken. She wants nothing to do with the man who left her—and Tucker’s Point—without so much as a goodbye. Being cooped up with him in a high school gym is stirring up more than just bad memories, though, and soon Delaney finds herself confiding in Brody. But will he have any reason to stay once the blizzard ends? CONTENTS CHAPTER ONE (#ucc02b9e2-4f69-542a-b01c-ec0d1ae27c87) CHAPTER TWO (#ufca62c8f-9eff-5598-9b16-a38186c64e7c) CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo) ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#litres_trial_promo) ALSO BY SHANNON STACEY (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE NOTHING MADE DELANEY WESTCOTT happier than four o’clock coming around on the last business day of December. Being the deputy municipal clerk in her hometown of Tucker’s Point, Maine, was usually a low-key job she enjoyed, but the stampede of people who’d realized it was the last day to register their vehicles would try the patience of a saint. And Delaney was no saint. Even after four years in the office, she had to brace herself for the panicked rush between the Christmas and New Year’s holidays. “Highway robbery if you ask me,” Mrs. Keller muttered, slapping her checkbook down on the counter, just as she did every single year. Delaney half expected the leather checkbook cover to creak and release a plume of dust and moths when the woman opened it. “How was your Christmas, Mrs. Keller?” “I would have spent less on presents if I’d remembered you were going to rob me blind again.” Every year, Delaney thought again. “Did your grandbabies enjoy the holiday?” Mrs. Keller’s face, as worn and creased as her checkbook cover, softened. “They sure did.” “I heard Courtney had the croup again. Is she feeling better?” “That baby takes after her mother,” she said, shaking her head. “I swear my Becky spent half her childhood bent over a pan of hot water with a towel draped over her head. Now she has to do the same thing with Courtney.” By the time Delaney finished processing Mrs. Keller’s registration renewal, the woman had forgotten her complaints and she even offered a “Happy New Year” on her way out. When you worked with the public in the town you’d grown up in, it didn’t take very long to get everybody’s numbers. Mrs. Keller had a reputation for being cantankerous, but she was a marshmallow when it came to her grandchildren. Ten minutes later, Delaney looked up to take the paperwork from the last customer of the year and almost laughed. Mike Huckins had a rumpled and frazzled look about him that went beyond the post-holiday haze the rest of the town was in. Having a two-week-old baby would do that to a man. “Sandy called me in a panic,” Mike said. “She totally forgot we had to register the car this month.” “At least you guys have a good excuse.” Delaney took the handful of crumpled papers from him and smoothed them out. “How’s Noah?” “Loud. But he’s doing good.” “And Sandy?” Mike sighed. “She’s exhausted, of course. But she’s doing good. You should stop in and visit for a while if you get a chance.” “I will. New moms don’t get a lot of company.” “They sure don’t. Brody’s coming in Sunday, though, for an overnight visit.” Delaney froze, except for her fingers, which curled into fists and crumpled a paper she’d just smoothed. “Sandy hasn’t seen her brother since we all went to Vegas for our wedding,” Mike continued, “so you can just imagine how excited she is.” Unlike Delaney, who hadn’t seen him in the five years since his mother handed her the note he’d left, telling Delaney he loved her, but he was leaving town and wasn’t coming back. So sorry. But now he was coming back to Tucker’s Point. She went through the very familiar process of renewing Mike’s registration while he talked about their new baby, but part of her mind couldn’t let go of the fact Brody was returning to town. Even through locking up the office and driving to the market, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, which made her angry. He hadn’t cared enough to tell her he was leaving town, so he wasn’t worth thinking about. She’d done enough of that crying herself to sleep every night for weeks after he’d left. So he was going to his sister’s overnight. Big deal. Delaney would simply put off visiting Sandy until she was sure he was gone and, since she planned to spend the weekend curled up in front of her television, there was no chance she’d run into him. She was surprised to see how full the parking lot was, even for a Friday afternoon. Then she remembered it was New Year’s Eve and figured there was a run on booze and snacks. Surprisingly, there had also been a run on bread and milk, she found as she wandered up and down the aisles a bit. “Did the weather forecast change while I was at work?” she asked Cindy, the cashier, when it was her turn to check out. Cindy rolled her eyes. “Not that I’ve heard. A little snow, but everybody’s stocking up like the ice storm of ’98’s on its way back through.” “That was a doozy, for sure.” And now that she was a volunteer for the town emergency shelter, should it need to be open, she hoped they wouldn’t have another storm like that anytime soon. She took the scenic road home, which took her along the coast for a few miles before turning back inland to the house she’d grown up in and had rented from her parents since they made the decision to move to Florida three years before. Driving calmed her and she desperately needed that. She needed to leave thoughts of Brody in her past, where they belonged. Pulling off into a scenic area, she pulled a granola bar out of one of her grocery bags but, after a moment’s hesitation, she traded it for the candy bar she’d bought on impulse. This day definitely called for chocolate therapy. Unfortunately, off in the distance beyond the gray winter ocean, she could make out part of the roof of the Ambroise estate, which never failed to make her think of Brody. It was a beautiful place, set out on a jutting piece of land, and she used to daydream about winning the lottery and buying it. Brody could quit fishing and they’d fill the place with kids. It hadn’t worked out that way for anybody. Sophie Ambroise had passed away and, thanks to working in the town hall, she knew the place had been rezoned from residential to commercial. Somebody would turn it into a hotel, she thought. Brody had left town and Delaney certainly hadn’t won the lottery. With her mood matching the turbulent waves below her, Delaney pulled her car back onto the road and headed for home. She was going to spend the weekend with her television, a couple of good books and the gallon of ice cream that had simply jumped into her cart. Come Monday morning, she’d go back to work and Brody would go back to wherever he’d come from. Life would go on. * * * THE PLAN WAS simple. Fly into Portland on Sunday and rent a car—upgrading to an all-wheel-drive model in deference to the snow—and then drive into Tucker’s Point. Once he’d done the ooh-and-ah thing over his newborn nephew, he’d spend the night and then drive right back out again Monday morning. Brody Rollins didn’t intend to spend one minute longer than he had to in his hometown. He’d left the place five years ago, and he hadn’t thought anything could drag him back again. Then his only sister, Sandy, had her first child. Her need for her brother to see baby Noah had, over several phone calls, overcome his reluctance to ever step foot in Maine again. Even though the “Welcome to Tucker’s Point” sign was as familiar as the area it welcomed him to, Brody relied on the rental’s GPS to guide him off Route 1 and through town. It was a blessing that Sandy’s husband, Mike, worked for the town instead of fishing, so they had a small house in a residential section away from the harbor. Not the picturesque marina for the tourists, but the rough and dirty harbor the lobster boats called home. Sandy’s residence wasn’t necessarily in the postcard-pretty part of town, but it wasn’t one of the run-down houses by the docks they’d grown up in, either. He finally found the place—a small, tidy Cape with green shutters, set back from the road—and pulled up the driveway, parking behind the well-used navy sedan Sandy had described. After killing the engine, he climbed out and stretched his back, inhaling deeply. At least the frigid temperature and falling snow neutralized the smell. The briny air, reeking of fish and desperation, was so pervasive he’d bought himself all new clothes when he left town because he was convinced he could still smell Tucker’s Point no matter how many trips he made to the Laundromat. At the time he’d made do with stiff, coarse jeans and thin T-shirts from the discount store. Now his jeans were almost as soft as his merino-and-cashmere-blend sweater, and the soles of his boots weren’t worn through. He didn’t squander his money on fancy labels, but what he did buy was good quality and made to last. Brody was halfway up the walk when the front door opened and, despite his reluctance to return to Tucker’s Point, his heart squeezed at the sight of his sister. It had been two years since he’d seen her, and being a wife and new mother had changed her. She had the soft, rounded look of a woman who’d just had a baby, and her long, brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. She was a little pale and had dark circles under eyes the same soft shade of green as his, but he guessed that came with the new, first-time-mom territory. She hugged him fiercely. “I can’t believe you’re here!” “I’ve missed you.” He squeezed her back, then chuckled when an angry shriek echoed through the house. “I guess it’s time to meet my nephew.” Sandy led him to the bassinet set up in the living room and lifted Noah out. His volume level didn’t go down any but his sister passed Noah to him, anyway. Brody held the tiny bundle of ticked-off baby, looking down into his face. It was red and scrunched up, and Brody thought he was cute as hell. “He looks just like you do when you’re hungry,” he said, smiling at his sister. “Funny.” She took the baby, changed him, and then curled up at one end of the couch. “Will this bother you?” “Nope.” His sister breastfeeding her son wouldn’t bother him anywhere near as much as the ear-splitting decibels the miniature kid was presently producing. He walked to the window, giving her a little privacy while she got Noah settled. “It looks like it’s changing over to ice. And the wind’s picking up.” “I’m still doing the sleep when the baby sleeps thing, so I haven’t even watched the weather. Mike said he’d be working overtime, but he didn’t say anything about ice.” “Neither did the radio. Some snow, but no mention of ice.” Driving in snow was no big deal, but the last thing he wanted was for Tucker’s Point to become an ice rink and keep him from catching his plane home tomorrow. They caught up while she fed Noah. She told him how well working for the town was going for Mike, and asked about his business. He flipped real estate and the market was tight, but he was careful and still had enough money in the bank so he slept at night. They talked about the baby and how she and Mike were still debating on whether or not she’d return to her job keeping books for the local doctor once her maternity leave was up. She’d just finished laying the baby back in the bassinet when a massive gust of wind hit the house, driving ice against the window panes and making her jump. “It’s getting bad out there really fast.” “Hopefully this is just a fluke and it’ll turn back over to snow pretty soon.” “Are you going to see Mom and Dad while you’re here?” Sandy asked the question in a casual enough tone, but the way she picked at the side of her thumbnail gave away her tension. He didn’t want to. Walking into that shabby and depressing little house he’d grown up in was the last thing he wanted to do. “Did you tell them I was coming?” “I might have mentioned it to Mom.” Of course she had. “I might stop in for a few minutes on my out tomorrow.” As tempting as it was to accidentally run late and not have time, he’d do it. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his parents. He did. Talked to them all the time on the phone, and his mom had even mastered Facebook so she could keep tabs on him. And he’d seen them during the past five years. Once, when he’d been working in Connecticut, he’d talked them into driving down for a weekend at the casino on his dime. And, two years ago, when Sandy had announced her engagement to Mike, he’d talked them all into joining him in Las Vegas for what was the wedding trip of a lifetime for a couple from Tucker’s Point. He’d simply managed to avoid seeing them in their natural habitat, so to speak. Just thinking about his childhood home, with its ancient brown tweed couch and insulation-deep stench of cigarette smoke and the sea, made him feel claustrophobic. But Brody had hurt his mom enough by taking off in the middle of the night five years before. He couldn’t hurt her again by avoiding seeing her when he was only a few minutes away. He tried not to think about the other woman he’d hurt, maybe even more than he’d hurt his mother. Delaney Westcott had been expecting a future with him. They were nearing the point of proposal, followed by a wedding, a cheap apartment over a fishermen’s bar and babies. Instead, she’d gotten a note telling her he was gone because he didn’t have the guts to face her. “You need to spend more than a few minutes with them,” Sandy said in an admonishing tone that made her sound just like their mother. “I’ll visit for a while. More than a few minutes. But I can’t stay too long because I have a plane to catch so I can get back to work.” And out of Tucker’s Point. That was when the power went out. * * * CHAOS REIGNED IN the school’s gymnasium. Delaney wanted to pretend it was the controlled kind of chaos, but if somebody had control, it wasn’t her. All she had was the clipboard. And a growing stream of people who did not want to be there. At least it was keeping her mind off the fact Brody Rollins was back in town. Mostly. She’d gotten the phone call shortly after the storm took its unexpected turn for the worse. Homes were already losing power and there might be a lot of ice and wind yet to come, so it was time to open the town’s emergency shelter at the school. There were several other volunteers helping the displaced get settled. At this point in the storm, they’d get mostly the elderly and families with small children, which made for an interesting mix. But if the storm didn’t ease up or change back to a more manageable snowfall, people would start risking the weather to get a warm bed and some food as the temperature dropped—both outside and in their houses. She hadn’t even gotten around to opening her ice cream yet. If her power went out and it melted, she was going to be really bummed. She’d need it after this. When she saw Mrs. Palmer approaching her, she almost groaned aloud. “What can I do for you?” “Where are the jigsaw puzzles? We always do puzzles.” “I’ll bring them out in a little while. Right now we’re trying to get the cots, blankets and food situation taken care of.” “What am I supposed to do, then?” Delaney smiled and did not suggest the woman help with the cots, blankets and food situation. Nobody would thank her for that. “Maybe you could see if Penny needs any help?” Penny was so going to make her pay for that later. Probably tenfold, even. But Delaney needed to get the cots set up because she had the chart from the fire department and if everything wasn’t up to the safety code, they’d have to do it again. It was a lot harder once people started showing up. At least Mike and Sandy had a generator, which meant even if Brody was there with her and the power went out, he wouldn’t be showing up at the school. It was hectic enough without throwing in a lost love. Not that he’d been lost. He’d deliberately left her behind without even telling her goodbye. Hopefully she’d get through this storm and his surprise return to Tucker’s Point without telling him hello. CHAPTER TWO THE CHILL WAS already creeping into Sandy’s small house, and Brody knew whenever the power didn’t come back within a few minutes, it could be an hour or it could be a while. And a while with no heat was no fun. “I can’t stay here with Noah,” Sandy said, as if she’d been reading his mind. “He’s too little.” “You don’t have a wood stove or a generator or anything?” “We don’t have a wood stove because of Mike’s allergies. And we had a generator, but it died and we haven’t gotten around to having it fixed yet.” “Space heaters?” “Mike has a torpedo heater for the shed, but it’s not really meant for in the house. And I don’t think we have any kerosene for it, anyway.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, considering the options. If Mike hadn’t been able to get the generator running, there was no sense in Brody standing around in the cold, tinkering with it. But Sandy was right. Noah was too little to weather having no heat with not even an estimated time for power restoration. “How about Mom and Dad’s?” he asked. He could drop them off, have a quick cup of coffee and then, hopefully, still get out of town and to a hotel. “The way Dad smokes?” Sandy shook her head. “A quick visit’s one thing, but Noah can’t stay there.” “We might make it to a hotel, but we’d have to leave now.” The motels in Tucker’s Point were all closed for the off-season, so they’d have to go inland or down the coast. He’d take the chance alone, but not with his sister and a baby in the car. “It’s already white-knuckle out there.” Sandy stood in front of the window, gently bouncing the blue bundle in her arms. “We can’t risk that. I think we should head to the school before it gets any worse.” He agreed, but that didn’t make it sit any easier. The plan was to get in, get out and not see anybody but his sister and her family and maybe his parents if he had the time. The plan didn’t include sitting around an elementary school gymnasium with whatever percentage of the population of Tucker’s Point showed up. The only saving grace was that there wouldn’t be too many people from his old neighborhood. The fishing families tended to be a hardier bunch and more self-sufficient, so they’d weather the storm better. “Brody?” his sister prompted. “Yeah. We should go.” He reached out to take the baby from her. “Gather up whatever you’ll need and we’ll go before it gets any worse.” It wasn’t a fun ride. Front-wheel, all-wheel or four-wheel drive didn’t matter on ice and his fingers were strangling the steering wheel before he even reached the end of Sandy’s road. With her neighborhood in darkness, it wasn’t bad, but when they passed through areas that still had power, the ice refracted lights and pierced his eyeballs. He crept along the streets and with every slip of the wheels, he grew more conscious of the precious cargo sleeping in the backseat. Sandy was quiet, probably not wanting to distract him, and they both breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached the end of Oak Street and turned into the school lot. “Do you want me to carry Noah?” “You can get our bags in one trip if I take him, but I’ll leave him in his seat so he’ll be protected if I fall on the ice.” “Hold on to the handle if you do fall.” Brody chuckled. “Otherwise he’ll go on one hell of a first sledding trip.” They made it to the double doors marked as the shelter entrance without falling and Brody set their bags down to hold the door for Sandy. After picking them back up, he followed her in, blinking under the bright lighting. “We have to sign in,” Sandy said. “They need to know who’s here, plus if there’s a problem in my neighborhood, they’ll know where I am.” He set the bags next to her feet. “I’ll take care of it. Wait here.” “No, wait,” he heard her say as he turned and stepped toward the woman with the clipboard. Just as the woman with the clipboard turned toward him. “Delaney?” * * * THE CHAOS AROUND Delaney faded into the background as her eyes met Brody’s, and her breath caught in her throat. The last thing she needed was to be snowed in with Brody Rollins. He’d changed during his five years away. His clothes looked expensive and his dark hair was obviously being professionally cut now, rather than hacked at by his mother in the kitchen when it got shaggy enough so it fell over his eyes. At twenty-seven, his face had matured and he had an air of confidence he’d never had before. But that rough and dangerous boy was still there, simmering under the thin layer of polish. As always, the girl inside who’d loved him immediately yearned for his touch, but that girl needed to behave so she didn’t embarrass herself. Holding the clipboard against her chest, as if it were some kind of cheap plastic armor, Delaney forced herself to smile. “Hi, Brody. It’s been a long time.” “It has.” He didn’t return her smile. Instead, he looked at her so intently she felt as if she was being memorized. “You look great.” If women with windblown ponytails, crowd-wrangling crazy eyes and a fresh coffee spill down the front of her favorite Red Sox sweatshirt were his thing, more power to him. “Thanks. You do, too.” Oh, crap. The sweatshirt. Delaney clutched the clipboard tighter, as if she was trying to hide the baseball logo on the front. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her sweatshirt—so much her favorite, the hem and the end of the cuffs were a little on the frayed side—had been his, once upon a time. He’d pulled it off and made her wear it one night when they took a late-night walk by the shore. It had been in her dryer, waiting to be folded, when he took off. After crying into the sweatshirt off and on for days, she’d washed it again and thought about returning it to Brody’s mom. She knew it was his favorite, after all. But she hadn’t gotten the rings, the picket fence, the two-and-a-half kids or the black Lab she’d been waiting for, so she’d kept the damn sweatshirt. “I guess I’m supposed to tell you we’re here or something?” Oh, she knew he was there. The racing pulse, tingling body and muscle-memory wondering why she wasn’t in his arms let her know Brody Rollins was in the room. An unhappy squawk from the baby seat Sandy was holding gave her an excuse to break eye contact with the man. Throwing a newborn into the mix was going to be a challenge. People would already be cranky about being displaced from their homes and trying to sleep on cots in a school gymnasium. Noah fussing to be fed every few hours, especially during the night, would grate on already raw nerves. “Okay,” she said, putting on her professional face, “let’s get you checked in. And we have a very limited number of privacy screens, but I’ll make sure you get one, Sandy.” The act of writing down their names and Sandy’s address helped calm her nerves. They had no medical concerns to note, other than Sandy having given birth two weeks before, and she listed the medications new mom and baby had. They had to sign acknowledging they understood the rules of the shelter and would abide by them, and she was doing okay until Brody stepped close to take the pen and clipboard from her. He smelled delicious. Slightly damp wool and leather and a hint of a very masculine cologne. Like money, she thought. He didn’t smell anything like the Brody Rollins she’d known. And it was probably deliberate. Because everything about the man seemed to trigger a memory; she remembered the amount of time he’d spend in the shower, trying to scrub the scent of fishing off his skin before taking her out on a date. He’d hated that smell—been ashamed of it—even though she’d never complained. As soon as he’d finished signing his name and handed back her clipboard, she put as much distance between them as she could without appearing obvious. “Let’s put you guys in that back corner. It’s a low traffic area, so maybe Noah will be able to sleep.” After leading Brody and Sandy to the cots in the corner, Delaney slipped through the double doors they’d hung a sign on that read No Admittance Without a Volunteer and into the main hallway of the school. The doors swung closed behind her and she stepped to the right so she could lean her head against the wall. There was not enough ice cream in the world to take the edge off this situation, even if she could get home to her freezer. Of course, the jerk had to look amazing. Not that he could have gone too far downhill in five years, but now he was a man who’d make her look twice even if he was a stranger on the street. That kind of delicious packaging on a man she’d loved with all of her heart, though, was making her head spin. She needed to focus. After taking a deep breath, she straightened and walked toward the closet where they’d stashed the few privacy screens they had. If they left them in the gym, a brawl would probably break out for them. Once she’d handed it off to Sandy, Delaney would go back about her business of running the emergency shelter and do her best to ignore Brody. It wasn’t what she wanted to do. Now that she’d come face-to-face with him, all the questions that had haunted her were rattling around in her brain, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told her he was leaving? Why hadn’t he at least said goodbye? Had asking her to go with him ever crossed his mind, or did he deliberately leave her as well as Tucker’s Point behind? And why hadn’t he loved her enough to stay? She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of bringing it up, though. Especially in front of people she knew. It wasn’t as though knowing the answers would change anything. All it would do was rip open old wounds and not change the bottom line. Brody knew where she was. If he wanted her, he would have come back for her. Feeling steadier, Delaney carried the screen into the gym and walked it over to the corner where Brody and Sandy had gathered three cots together. “I hope you don’t mind we took an extra,” Sandy said. “If Mike gets a chance to sleep, he’ll probably come here.” “It’s fine. If we do end up with a shortage of cots, I might have to steal it back if he’s not here, but we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” She leaned the screen against the wall. “I’ll let you guys figure out how you want this after you get situated.” “Thanks so much, Delaney,” Sandy said. Delaney managed not to look Brody in the face even once during the exchange. She could do this, she thought, as she brushed off her hands and started walking away. Ignoring him wouldn’t be so hard. “Hey, Delaney?” She turned and her insides quivered when his mouth lifted into that boyish grin she’d always been a sucker for. “Nice sweatshirt.” * * * BRODY WAS DOING everything in his power not to watch Delaney as she moved around the gym, doing whatever needed to be done. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a comic book hero and his powers were limited. She’d barely changed at all in the five years he’d been gone. Her dark blond hair, judging by the length of her ponytail, was a little longer. And she’d put on a little weight, but it looked good on her. Seeing her in his sweatshirt, though, was twisting him up in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He’d looked for it the night he’d left town because it was his favorite and he didn’t want to leave it behind. Then he’d remembered pulling it over Delaney’s head and helping her shove her arms in the sleeves because she’d been shivering in the ocean breeze. Brody had been tormented for weeks after he left town, imagining her wearing the sweatshirt and missing him. Eventually he figured she’d get over him and his prized Red Sox sweatshirt would go to Goodwill or be used to wax her car. He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact she was wearing it tonight. Was it just something she grabbed out of the back of her closet? Or did she still think of him when she wore it? “Stop staring at her,” Sandy hissed. “You’re making it more awkward.” Forcing his attention away from Delaney, he looked down at Noah, who was starting to squirm in his car seat and make squeaky noises that were cute at the moment, but bound to get louder in a hurry. “I’m just looking around.” “If you were looking around, you’d know half the people in here are watching you watch her, hoping for good gossip.” “Nothing to gossip about.” “Everybody knows Delaney and half of them know you broke her heart. There’s definitely gossip.” He rolled his eyes, mentally adding her comment to the why Tucker’s Point sucks column. “Old news.” By the time Sandy got Noah out of his seat, the baby was at about half volume and Brody reached for the folding privacy screen Delaney had leaned against the wall. As he looked it over, trying to figure out the best way to fold it out for maximum privacy, he glanced around the gym again. He didn’t figure a screaming baby was going to go over too well. A few guys threw dirty looks their way, and Brody felt his temper rising. Maybe he’d made himself into a successful businessman and the calluses were gone, but there were some things a guy from the rough part of town didn’t forget. Like how to throw a punch. “Brody.” Sandy’s elbow jabbed his ribs. “Brody! Don’t even start.” “I’m not doing anything.” “I know that look and I’m telling you don’t even think about it.” Brody shrugged, more to ease the tension from his shoulders than in response to her words. “That guy in the green sweatshirt was a couple years behind me in school. A punk with a big mouth.” “Now he’s just a dad here with two young kids who are probably already on his last nerve and he’s thinking about how a newborn’s going to make it so much worse.” Now that she mentioned it, Brody saw the two boys near the guy. Young and full of the frantic energy that came with being up past their bedtime, they were roughhousing and showed no signs of being tired. A newborn in their midst definitely wouldn’t make the guy’s life any easier. “Can you do me a favor?” Sandy asked after he’d wrapped the screen around their cots. “I’m supposed to drink a lot of water when I’m nursing. I drank one bottle already and I couldn’t fit anymore in the bags. Can you get some from the kitchen?” At least it was something to do. Brody had a feeling if this power outage stretched on, he’d be begging for busy work. He wasn’t a guy used to sitting around doing nothing. But he only got halfway across the gym before he ran into an old friend. “Hot damn. If it ain’t Brody Rollins.” Donnie Cox didn’t look much different than the last time Brody had seen him, downing shots after a good haul. Worn flannel shirt, faded jeans and unlaced work boots with duct tape over one toe. “Heard you were back in town.” Brody shook his hand, noting the hard, ragged calluses across Donnie’s palm. It had taken almost two years for Brody’s hands to smooth to the point they weren’t something people—usually women—commented on. “It’s good to see you again, Cox.” “Yeah, I brought the wife and mother-in-law over when the power went out, but I’m going to go back out and do some welfare checks. Hate being cooped up.” “Married, huh? Congratulations.” “I married Becks. Big surprise.” Donnie and Rebecca were not only high-school sweethearts, but had been together since junior high. They’d never dated anybody but each other, as far as Brody knew. “I’ll be a dad in four months, too. Our first.” Brody said all the right congratulatory words, but mentally he was acknowledging that guys he went to school with being married and having kids made him feel a little as if he was missing out on something. Sure, he’d been working hard and putting money in the bank, but he’d be thirty soon. It wouldn’t be long before he started looking for a wife and planning a family. As the thought took hold in his mind, his gaze was drawn to Delaney. If he hadn’t left town, they’d be married now. Probably have at least two kids. And he’d work his ass off every day just to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table while Delaney scrounged for coupons and did laundry that would always smell like a fishing boat. He couldn’t regret not letting them turn into his parents. But he regretted not having her. He regretted that a lot. “It was good to see you, man,” Donnie said. “I need to get back.” He shook Donnie’s hand, and then continued toward the kitchen. Delaney seemed to be the only volunteer there and he didn’t know where they kept the water, so he headed toward her. When she saw him coming, her expression grew guarded and he hated that. “What can I do for you?” So formal and cold. She’d been his best friend once and her voice had always made him feel good, whether she was talking about her day or whispering sweet invitations in his ear. “Sandy’s out of water and she’s supposed to drink a lot when she’s nursing Noah. She said you’d have some.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/shannon-stacey/heart-of-the-storm/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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