Waiting for Wednesday Read online

  “Tris is a perfect gentleman.”

  Mr. Collins laughed. “You’ll have to sell that line to someone who doesn’t know my son, my dear. His mother used to say he was too much like me. Too old-fashioned, set in his ways. Called us her cavemen from time to time when we annoyed her.”

  Lane giggled. “Apparently Tris has hidden this alter-ego you all refer to from me. Sean insists Tris is a—” She paused and blushed, realizing what word she’d almost used in front of the older man.

  “I know perfectly well what word Sean uses to describe Tris and I have to confess I’m appalled by his language. Of course, Riley’s is worse. Sunday must roll over in her grave to hear the way her children talk. I don’t know where they get it from.”

  Lane bit her tongue, fighting against the impulse to mention that no one’s vocabulary was more colorful than Mr. Collins’ when watching one of his beloved sporting teams losing.

  “Um, me neither,” she said quickly and Mr. Collins laughed.

  “Such a sweet girl. So what are the chances of you marrying Tristan?”

  Lane sucked in a breath at his unexpected question and started choking as her spit went down the wrong tube. “M-marry?”

  Mr. Collins patted her on the back as she fought to recover from her coughing jag. “Better?”

  She nodded.

  “Damn fool hasn’t asked you, has he?”

  “I’ve only been seeing Tris for a few weeks. It’s way too soon to be thinking about marriage,” she said. “Oh, look at the blooms on that tree. What kind of tree is that?” She hoped to divert the conversation to something a lot less embarrassing. They were nearly back to the front door of the pub. If she could distract him for just a few more steps, she’d be free and clear.

  “Hell if I know,” Mr. Collins said. “I was just wondering—”

  “Well, well, well,” a voice said from behind. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Lane closed her eyes and fought to hide her grimace. Suddenly, Mr. Collins’ third degree didn’t look so bad.

  She took a deep breath and turned to face her ex-husband. “James.” She watched Mr. Collins turn to face the man, scowling.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  James shrugged. “Just taking a walk, enjoying the sunshine and I happened to see you. What a coincidence, eh? I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute, Lane.”

  Mr. Collins looked ready to commit murder. Problem was she had invited James to the pub to deliver the picture, foolishly thinking it was a safe place to make the exchange. Suddenly she was sorry they were so close to the entrance and she shuddered to think what Tris would do if he saw her ex-husband talking to her.

  “Um. Sure.” She turned and saw the look of surprise on Mr. Collins’ face.

  “Lane,” he said softly. “You don’t have to talk to this man. Come back in the pub with me.”

  “I’ll only be a minute,” she promised. “I swear.”

  Mr. Collins narrowed his eyes and she knew he wasn’t happy with her answer. “One minute.” He turned and walked back into the pub.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Did you bring the picture?” She knew she would have much less then sixty seconds to recover the photo and get rid of James before Mr. Collins managed to round up the troops. She glanced back at the door, expecting to see Tris and his brothers storming through like avenging angels.

  “I forgot it,” James said and she felt her temper rise.

  “You walked all the way here and forgot the picture.”

  “I really was just out for a stroll. Didn’t actually intend to run into you.”

  Sure he didn’t.

  “Mr. Collins seems to be recovering nicely. Have you changed your mind about the job offer I told you about?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Seems to me you aren’t being very smart, Lane.”

  “Seems to me you’re the one not being smart,” Tris said from behind her. Lane sighed and turned slowly. She knew before she looked at his face what she would discover and she wasn’t wrong. Tris was pissed as hell. It was written in his rigid posture and stone-like features. His eyes were shooting daggers at James and she wondered if her ex-husband realized the danger he was in.

  “Collins,” James said, his tone belligerent. Lane fought not to roll her eyes. Clearly James hadn’t gotten any brighter. He’d always suffered from what her friend Joy referred to as “short-man syndrome”. If there was a bigger man around, James almost always tried to start a fight.

  “Hey, Tris.” She forced a smile to her face. “I was just about to come inside.”

  Tris glanced down at her and nodded. “Go on in now. I’ll be in soon.”

  “Tris,” she started to protest.

  “Go inside, Lane. Pop’s asking for you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at his tone, recognizing the caveman Mr. Collins had just alluded to. She looked back at James and then stood her ground. “I’m not going inside without you.”

  Tris seemed surprised by her refusal. “I just want to have a little man-to-man chat with your ex-husband. I won’t be long.”

  He stressed the word ex, and Lane was certain she heard James growl at the distinction.

  “Anything the two of you need to say to each other can be said in front of me. Especially since this heart-to-heart is no doubt about me,” she said.

  James snorted. “Much as I’d love to stay and watch this touching lovers’ spat, I have shit to do. I’ll catch up with you later, Lane.”

  “No,” Tris said. “You won’t. Take a good long look, Bryce, because it’s the last time you’re ever going to see her.”

  James clenched his fists and Lane took a step closer to Tris.

  “Is that right? Baltimore’s a big city, but it’s not that big, Collins. You planning on locking her inside or something?”

  “Nope. I won’t have to. You’re the one who’s going to ensure you never lay eyes on her again.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “If you think you can threaten me into leaving town, you’re—”

  “You don’t have to go anywhere. You see Lane on the street, you’ll cross to the other side. You run into her in the grocery store, you’ll walk on. You will never approach her again and you’ll never speak to her.”

  “Who says?” James taunted.

  Lane took a step to her left, placing herself directly between the two men. She felt Tristan put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to move her, but she refused to budge. Instead, he stepped around her and she could see from his face he wasn’t happy with her maneuvering.

  He looked at James. “You come near her again and I’m going rearrange that ugly face for you. You try to talk to her for any reason and I’ll rip your throat open. Lane’s mine now, so fly away, gnat.”

  James’ face turned a mottled red and Lane knew the conversation was over. Before her ex-husband had a chance to throw a punch, she turned and pushed Tris toward the door to the pub.

  “You’ve issued your warning,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”

  Tris narrowed his eyes and she knew the coming argument wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  “Next time,” James yelled as they walked away. “Next time, maybe you’ll be a fucking man and won’t hide behind a woman.”

  Tris stopped, but Lane wouldn’t be deterred. “Get inside,” she said. “Please.”

  Tris allowed her to push him through the door and she was relieved when it closed behind them, shutting out James’ taunts.

  Her heart was thudding loudly as she looked around the pub. “Where’s your pop?” She was surprised to find the room devoid of Collins men.

  “Ewan took him upstairs. I told them I could handle your ex.”

  “And they believed you?” She was shocked Mr. Collins and Ewan would leave Tris alone, knowing what he’d try to do to James. Mr. Collins’ words drifted back to her. Took Ewan and Sean to pull Tristan off the man. I’m thinking now we should have let Tristan finish.

>   “Apparently my family knows me better than you do. What the fuck was that out there, Lane?” Tris roared.

  She winced at his anger. “I didn’t want you to get into a fistfight with him.”

  “You think I can’t take that little punk with one hand tied behind my back?”

  She took a deep breath, speaking calmly, hoping the feeling would rub off on him. “I don’t want anyone fighting over me. It’s stupid and unnecessary. James and I are divorced. I’m never going back to him. You know that. The last thing I want to do is patch you up after some cockfight.”

  Tris ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Don’t ever step between me and that asshole again. I don’t need your protection.”

  She laughed. “You thought I was protecting you? Jesus, Tris. I was trying to protect James.”

  Her comment, rather than lightening the mood, made him even more furious. “You were protecting him?”

  She closed her eyes briefly, trying to hold herself together. She hated confrontations. “That was a pretty impassioned speech you made. Rearrange his face. Rip open this throat. Christ, I was scared and your threats weren’t even directed at me.”

  “Do you think I won’t follow through on those if he comes near you again?”

  “This isn’t a spitting contest, Tris.”

  “I said I would protect you, Lane. I meant that.”

  “And I told you—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t tell me you don’t need my protection again. That bastard beat you. He put you in the hospital. He’s lucky I let him breathe the same air as you. Dammit, Lane. Do you know what it did to me? Seeing you in that hospital bed.”

  She shook her head. Tristan’s pain was almost tangible.

  “It killed me inside. I don’t ever want to see you hurt or in pain again.”

  “You’re setting yourself up for failure, Tris. There’s no way you can stop that.”

  “I can try. I have to try. I already failed you once. I won’t—”

  “Failed me? Is that what you think? That it was your fault James beat me?”

  “I should have known what he was capable of. I should have seen—”

  “So you’re a mind-reader now? I lived with the asshole for two years and didn’t expect, didn’t realize what he’d do. Dammit, Tris. You’ve got to stop trying to save the world.”

  He grinned ruefully. “I’m not trying to save the world, just you. I don’t know how to make you understand what you mean to me, Lane. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  She blinked hard, trying to ward off the tears gathering in her lashes. “I know that,” she said softly.

  “You still cry.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, but her heart shattered at the sound of those three words. “In your sleep.”

  “I—” She swallowed heavily, uncertain what to say.

  “You cry almost every night.” The anguish on his face was more than she could bear so she looked away.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered. Usually her crying woke her and she’d foolishly spent the last week believing she’d broken the habit. “You never said anything.”

  He shrugged. “I hold you until you stop.”

  “You hold me?” She considered his words. Had anyone ever held her as she cried at night? James always just woke her up, usually to bitch that she was disturbing his sleep.

  “What are the nightmares about, Lane?”

  She turned and walked to the bar. She was grateful it was still morning and the pub was closed. It was rare when she was alone with Tris—outside his bedroom. She sat on one of the barstools, startled to discover him beside her.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  He studied her face and she knew he was trying to decide if she was hiding the truth. He sat on the stool next to hers and grasped her hands. “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a nightmare. I don’t know why I cry or what I’m dreaming about. Honest.”

  He nodded. “I believe you.”

  “I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep. I’ll crash on the couch from now on. Your pop is much better. In a couple of weeks, he won’t need me at all anymore. I really should start looking for a permanent job and a place to live.”

  “No.”

  She studied the implacable look on Tristan’s face, uncertain what his reply meant. “No?”

  “I think maybe it’s time we had a talk. We’ve been letting things ride, but I have some expectations for this relationship and I’m sure you do too.”

  “Expectations?” she asked.

  “You want to look for a job. Fine. I agree it’s probably time. Pop’s not gonna be kept away from work for much longer and he’s much better.”

  “I’ve been putting out feelers with some of my old colleagues about a job. I have a few leads.”

  “Good. You’re a terrific nurse and you know we’ll give you a great reference.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll finish out the two weeks and then I’m sure Joy won’t mind if I move—”

  “Don’t even waste your breath, kitten. You aren’t moving out of the apartment. At least, not without me.”

  “I assume this is the ‘expectations’ thing you were talking about.” She tried to make light of the conversation, but her heart was beating a thousand times a minute.

  He nodded. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

  “Long haul?”

  “I’ve been giving it some thought and I think we should get our own place. Move in together.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too soon. Surely you can’t think—”

  “Just hear me out. I know you aren’t ready for what I want, but I’m not going to lie to you about my intentions. I want us to make a life together. Living together is the perfect way to start. It’ll give us a chance to get to know one another better.”

  She laughed. “God, Tris. Has anyone ever mentioned that your thinking is a bit backward?”

  He laughed before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Just giving you something to think about. Like you said, we’ve still got a few weeks before you even have to start looking for a place.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  He ran his hands through her hair and pulled her close for a kiss. “It’s close enough.”

  For several moments, their lips touched lightly, gently, and she wondered what she’d ever done in her life that was good enough to deserve Tristan’s kisses.

  “Are these make-up kisses?” she asked when he moved away.

  “Were we fighting?”

  “It felt like it,” she said, recalling his anger when they’d come back into the pub.

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t mad at you, Lane. Just the prick.” His eyes narrowed and he studied her face as if he’d just realized something. “You know, you didn’t seem all that upset to see your ex again. I mean, it’s been a year and he did hurt you pretty bad the last time.”

  She took a deep breath and struggled with the truth. She didn’t think she was lying to Tris, but she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about the fact that she’d seen James at the waterfront and he’d been calling…a lot. “It all happened too fast for me to react. One minute he was there, the next you were and…”

  Tris nodded and seemed to accept her comment. “If you run into the asshole again, don’t stand there, Lane. Walk away and call me. I don’t trust that little shit as far as I can throw him.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Okay.”

  “And just so there’s no mistake tonight, until you do leave the apartment, there is no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch.”

  “But the crying—”

  “Is something we’re going to deal with. We’ll figure it out. Leaving my bed isn’t going to solve the problem.”

  Keira came into the pub. “I love the spring. What an awesome day.” She looked over and spotted them on the barstools. “Hey, Lane. How’s Pop? I thought I might tak
e him for a drive around town. He hasn’t done anything besides putter around the apartment and pub for weeks. Thought it might be fun to take him to my last wedding dress fitting, and then over to the florist to see the flowers I picked out. What do you think?”

  Tris rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about poor Pop. Lane tried to suppress her laughter and nodded. “I think he’d love it.”

  “Great. I’ll run upstairs and see what Pop thinks.”

  Lane stood up to join her, but Tris caught her hand, held her back for a moment. “Promise you’ll think about what I said? About living together?”

  “I promise.”

  “And just so you know, Lane, Pop’s gonna hate going to the florist.”

  * * * * *

  Tris jerked awake, no longer surprised to find Lane trembling beside him. Hearing her soft crying was worse than seeing her in the throes of a nightmare. At least then she’d be able to get her emotions out properly with some thrashing and screaming. Her cries were quiet, muted, and he wondered if subconsciously she weren’t trying to keep from disturbing him. It was as if Lane constantly tried to make herself as small as possible so as not to get in anyone’s way. No doubt a foster child’s way of adapting in so many different homes.

  “Shhh,” he said, running his hand up and down her back to try to soothe her, hoping she’d calm down and remain asleep. He knew how much her crying bothered her, embarrassed her, despite his assurances he didn’t mind losing a bit of sleep.

  Her hand pressed against his chest and he knew his wish had not been answered. She lifted her head, misery written on every line of her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I keep waking you up.”

  He smiled, wishing he could ease the guilt she was determined to cling to. “Kitten, I’m a young guy. I don’t need that much sleep. Wanna tell me about it?”

  She shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure I can even understand it.”

  “Try.”

  She took a deep breath. “It’s not a dream, so much as a horrible emotion. I feel so heavy, like there’s a weight on my chest and I can’t breathe. It’s like somewhere inside I know that everything in the world is wrong and I’m helpless to fix it. It’s always dark and I’m always alone.”