“I guess, huh?” Radar plodded into the room to rest his muzzle on the bed, looking concerned. And confused. Because he had to sleep in his crate in the kitchen. The kitten all but stuck its tongue out at the dog before curling up even more tightly against Josie’s hip. The little girl almost giggled, then looked up at Val with huge dark eyes.
“I like Levi. He’s nice.”
“He is,” Val said. Sincerely even. Watching the man earlier as he patiently sorted out the dog and cat, how gentle he was with Josie, had definitely made her look at him in a different light. Maybe not a light she wanted to see him in, but nobody knew better than she that you don’t always get a say in these things. So now she smiled and said, “And I think Daddy would have been glad you got to meet his best friend.”
Petting the kitten, Josie frowned. “Was Levi your friend, too?”
“Not really, no,” Val said, figuring it was only fair she live up to the mandate she’d given Levi. “Frankly, I thought he was kind of a goofball when we were younger. Although so was your daddy, so...”
Josie giggled again, with a little more oomph, then yawned. “Were you?”
“A goofball?” Val shook her head, then winnowed her fingers through Josie’s waves. “I was much too busy being serious,” she said, making a snooty face, which made Josie laugh again. One day, maybe, she’d tell her daughters about her own childhood, but that day was way off in the future. Right now it was about them, about the present, not the past. And certainly not about Val’s past. “I’d like to think I’ve loosened up some since then, though.”
“Well, I think you’re just right,” Josie said, and Val’s chest ached. How was it possible that she somehow loved her babies more every day than she had the day before? And she prayed with all her heart that this one not lose sight of that amazing combination of sweetness and smarts and silliness that made her one incredible little kid.
“Well, I think you’re just right, too,” she said, giving her oldest daughter a hug and kiss. “You and Risa both.”
The same as she’d believed Tomas was just right, she thought as she—and the reluctant hound—left the room, making sure the door wasn’t closed all the way. Someone else who was sweet and smart and silly, who’d filled up a hole inside her she hadn’t even known was there. Or at least wouldn’t admit to. And she could still, even after all this time, remember when she first realized there this was someone who got her, someone she could trust without a moment’s hesitation. She’d never doubted his love. Or believed he’d ever give her a reason to. The way he’d looked at her, with that mixture of gratitude and amazement—that had never changed. And that, she would miss for the rest of her life.
But she’d also thought she understood him, that they were on the same page about what they wanted, what their goals were. Except then—
Stop. Just...stop.
Pulling her hoodie closed against the evening chill, Val went back down to the cramped kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate, gather the ingredients to make this pie, the dog keeping her hopeful company. She poured milk into a mug and set it in the old microwave on the disgusting laminate counter, berating herself for letting her thoughts go down this path. Because she knew full well she’d only get sucked right back into the rabbit hole of hurt and depression she had to fight like hell not to go near, for the kids’ sake.
But the nights were hard, silent and long and lonely, those thoughts whistling though her head like the wind in a cemetery.
The microwave beeped. She dumped Nesquik into the mug, swearing under her breath when half of it landed on the counter, the minor aggravation shoving her into the rabbit hole, anyway. And down she went, mad as hell but helpless to avoid it. Yes, her husband’s work—work he loved and was good at—had been work that had saved probably countless lives. But it wasn’t fair, that after everything she’d been through, everything she’d thought she’d finally won, that she’d had to spend so much of the past six years with her heart in her throat.
That he’d made her a widow before she was thirty.
Val shut her eyes, not only against the pain, but the frustration of not being able to get past it, to appreciate her husband’s sacrifice. Dammit, everything Tomas did was for other people. Why couldn’t she feel more proud of him? Why, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t she feel something more than that he’d abandoned them, broken his promise to her, to their children?
Hideous, selfish thoughts she didn’t dare admit to anyone. Ever.
Radar nosed her hand; her eyes wet, she smiled down at that sweet face, a face she wouldn’t even be looking at if Tomas hadn’t rescued the dog. Much like he’d rescued Val. She couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to—what her life would have been like if he hadn’t. She wouldn’t have the girls, for one thing. Or his parents, who’d welcomed her as their own from the first time Tomas brought her home to meet them. And yet as grateful as she was for all of that—as in, her heart knew no bounds—none of it made up for what she’d lost.
For what—she took a sip of the hot chocolate, the taste cloying in her mouth—her husband’s friendship with Levi Talbot had stolen from her.
And because the person she was the most honest with was herself, that was something she doubted she’d ever get over.
The haunted look in those murky green eyes notwithstanding.
“That should do it,” Levi said, testing the new kitchen faucet a couple of times to make sure it didn’t leak. He turned to see Val standing beside him in a baggy T-shirt and even baggier jeans, arms crossed and bare mouth set, as usual. Behind her at the kitchen table Josie was drawing—the little girl tossed him a grin that punched him right in the heart—while Risa pushed and batted at things on her walker, making a helluva racket. And sprawled in the middle of the crappy linoleum floor was the dog, softly whoop-whooping in his sleep.
“Thanks,” Val said, refusing to meet Levi’s gaze. “Did you put the receipt in the can?”
“I did. And you don’t have to keep asking—I’m a quicker study than you might think.”
She might’ve smiled, but she still wouldn’t look at him. So he glanced around the kitchen instead as he clunked and rattled his tools back in their metal box. In the past week, besides finishing up the porch, Levi had replaced a couple of the worst windows on the side of the house that got the most brutal winds, installed three new ceiling fans and changed out the disintegrating faucets. Except for the porch, all Band-Aid-type stuff until Val stopped dragging her feet about the more major projects. Like a sorely needed kitchen remodel. Hell, half the cabinets didn’t even close anymore, and the laminate counters were completely worn through in places. However, since Val seemed loath to talk to him for more than a minute at a time, there was no telling when that—or anything else—might actually happen.
So he prodded. A skill he’d inherited from both his parents, apparently.
“You decide yet what kind of cabinets you want?”
He heard her sigh. “Keep going back and forth between white and cherry. Or maybe maple?”
“And the counters?”
“Butcher block. Or quartz.” She pushed out another breath. “The family said it’s up to me, but...” Levi glanced over to see her bony shoulders hitch. “What’s the hurry, right?”
“Although you might as well take advantage of free labor as long as you can. Since I don’t know how long I’m gonna be around.”
Her brows, as pale as her hair, dipped. “I can afford to pay someone, Levi. I could afford to pay you. I’ve got my own money—”