Playing For Keeps Part 9

And mentally kick his own a.s.s-he'd pushed her. Pushed too hard and she hadn't been ready...

"Dana..."

The sound of footsteps coming over the uneven, rock-and-branch-strewn ground had Dana wrapping her arms around her knees. She hid her face against them and hoped whoever in the h.e.l.l it was would take the hint and leave her alone.

The last thing she wanted was some jogger or pet lover walking their pooch interrupting her.

Then somebody said her name and she flinched.

Wrong. The last thing she wanted was somebody she knew interrupting her.

Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into Mason Caldwell's pale green eyes. "Go away."

His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. "Nice to see you, too, darlin'."

She scowled. "Don't call me darlin'. And in case you didn't hear me...go away."

Mason sighed and shook his head. "Now, you see, I can't do that. It's too easy...and I've had this...well, we'll call it an epiphany over the past couple of months. Easy is just that. It's easy. Don't put any work into it, you don't put any heart into it..." He reached up and caught a curl in his hand, tugging it quick and light, then letting go as she went to bat his hand away. "You don't put much of anything into it. And that's what you end up with. Nothing. Nothing worth having ever comes easy, I don't think."

"Learned that from you." He glanced at her through his lashes. "I didn't realize what I was losing until you were already gone. I can't keep taking the easy way out, and I'm not going to do it now, either. As much as I'd like to just go away-and trust me, doing what I got to do is not going to be easy-I can't just leave you here alone."

"Sure you can. Just get up, amble off and go take your pictures, go seek out fortune and fame..."

"Actually, I went back to school-think I might go into teaching. And no, I'm not leaving here until you come with me. I can't."

A sliver of surprise worked past her misery, but she didn't care enough to ask about him to clarify the thing about school. Curling her lip at him, Dana said, "Yes, you can. Don't tell me you forgot...we're done."

"Oh, trust me." He snorted. "I haven't forgotten. Now c'mon, Dana...I'm trying to do the nice thing here. Don't make it any harder than it has to be."

"And what's the nice thing, Mason? All I want is to be alone..."

"No. It's not." He straightened and settled on the bench beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders. "At least I don't think that's what you want-and this is where the hard part starts. You don't want to be alone...and while I'd be more than happy to lend you a shoulder, or anything else, that isn't what you need. What you need is be with Jake."

She stiffened and pulled away. Shoving off the bench, she paced the small widening in the path. The little river park was on the Indiana side of the Ohio River, a place she'd discovered a few years ago. It was quieter than the park in Louisville where she usually went, and more secluded. It was the one place she'd thought she could be without anybody bothering her. The trail wound back and forth, meandering down to the river and then winding back around. Every couple hundred yards, there was an area with a bench and she'd chosen one that was set a little father back from the main path.

What you need is to be with Jake...

Jake- No, I just want to be alone.

"How did you know I was here?" She shot him a look over her shoulder, scowling.

He shrugged. "I didn't. Not really. Actually, I was kind of surprised to see your car. I know you like the river, but I didn't figure I'd have any luck finding you when Jake couldn't. He called..." His voice trailed off and then he blew out a breath, shoved a hand through his hair. "Jake called, asked if I'd talked to you, seen you. Wouldn't say much of anything, but I gathered things weren't well in paradise."

His gaze dropped and she flinched as he stared at her belly. Her empty belly. "I heard about the baby. I'm sorry."

She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her midsection.

You have to face the pain.

Swallowing, she whispered, "Mason, just go away and leave me alone."

She was going to shatter. She couldn't keep running from it, but she couldn't break yet, either. She wasn't ready.

"Alone. You so sure that's what you want?"

Jerking her head up, she glared at him. "What's the deal here, Mason? h.e.l.l, for all you know, I'm just having a bad day or we had a fight-trouble in paradise," she sneered mockingly.

"Because I know you." Mason shoved up off the bench and came to her, cupped her cheek in his hand. "And I know Jake. You're not standing here looking broken about a fight-it's the baby. Losing the baby. Come on, Dana...you need to be with him. And as much I wish I could hate the man, I think he needs to be with you, too."

The deep, throaty purr of the vehicle was a familiar sound, and not really one that Jake wanted to hear just then. Mason's pampered cla.s.sic Mustang appeared at the end of the street and Jake scowled, shoving his cell phone back onto his belt clip. He'd been getting ready to call Cissy-again. And debating on whether he should try to go looking for Dana once more.

Talking to his lover's ex-lover wasn't exactly what he had in mind just then.

But then the car pulled to a stop in front of Jake's house and Mason climbed out. He shot Jake a glance over his shoulder and then crouched down, staring inside the car. The quiet murmur of the other's man's voice didn't quite carry, but Jake didn't need to hear the words or even see inside the car.

It was Dana.

In that moment, he was so d.a.m.ned relieved, he didn't even care-much-that Mason had apparently found her where he'd failed.

Coming down off the porch, he hesitated, halfway between his house and the car, uncertain about what he should do. Say. If she wanted to hear anything from him at all. He watched as Mason straightened. With one hand in his pocket, the other hooked around the back of his neck, the guy looked about as tense and worried as Jake had ever seen him.

Mason glanced at the car once more and then turned, faced Jake across the distance separating them.

The irony. It seemed like Mason, somebody else, or something else, had been standing between him and Dana for most of his life. Mason. Dana's own unawareness of Jake or how often she'd just looked at him and seen an old high school boyfriend, her best buddy-never as the man who loved her more than life itself. Now, their baby had died and the pain of that was tearing them apart.

And once more, Mason was between them.

Mason didn't stay there, though. He came towards Jake and faced him, the two of them staring each other eye to eye. "She was down at the river, over in Indiana."

Jake nodded. Swallowed. Glanced towards the car where Dana continued to sit in silence. "Is...is she okay?"

"I don't think so." Mason lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug and the murmured, "She looks broken inside."

h.e.l.l, Jake could understand that. He swallowed again, but it didn't make the knot in his throat any easier to talk around. "Maybe... Why...why don't you get her inside her house? Stay with her for a while...I can call her friend, Cissy..."

"Screw that," Mason snorted. "I heard about the baby. I ran into Cissy over the weekend, ended up having dinner. She told me about the baby. Dana doesn't need me with her right now. And you don't either. She doesn't need Cissy. You two need each other, and you two need to deal with this. h.e.l.l, and I thought I was the one who didn't like to face things."

Shoving past Jake, Mason ambled up to the porch and dropped down on the porch swing. "So go get her. Deal with it." His mouth twisted in a bitter smile and he added, "And you better do it quick, before I change my mind and see if I can't get her back, get her to love me, even half as much as I love her."

Breathe.

Breathe.

Don't think.

Don't think.

But the soothing, monotonous chant wasn't working very well. It was like a wall was eroding away inside her and the chant was supposed to help sh.o.r.e it up, but the wall was collapsing too fast.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jake slide into the driver seat. He lifted a hand, but froze. In her mind's eye, she could see herself, how she'd pulled away, flinched away, or just stood frozen when he'd tried to touch her, how she'd hidden when he just wanted to comfort-to comfort and probably be comforted.

She was my baby, too.

Face the pain.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she took a deep breath and then gasped as a deep, visceral pain tore through her. Breathe-don't think-breathe-breathe- She couldn't. She couldn't breathe and even though she tried to shove past the pain and find that blessed numbness, she couldn't.

A sob tore from her throat. Then another.

"Dana..."

She barely heard his voice over the force of her sobs, but instinctively, she turned towards him. Instinctively, she reached for him-and he was there.

Jake...he was always there.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she let herself break.

His heart, almost battered and bruised from the past few weeks, simply shattered as Dana came to him. She cried, deep, ugly sobs that wracked her body and left his own throat aching. She wiggled, fighting to get closer, but she'd never undone her seat belt. Releasing her from the belt, he half-stumbled, half-climbed out of the car, keeping her locked in his arms.

"Come on, baby...let's get you home." He doubted she even heard him.

Once inside the cool darkness of her house, he carried her to the couch and settled down, cradling her in his lap. He kissed her temple and rocked her, cuddled her close and stroked her back, wished for something he could do to ease the pain, something he could say.

But there was nothing. He was helpless in the face of her grief-and his own.

He squeezed his eyes closed as tears started to leak. Tried to breathe past the knot in his throat, but it was choking him.

The pain, choking them both.

Breathe...come on, man...breathe, get it together.

Then Dana wiggled around in his arms, straddling his hips and wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face there, and in a voice m.u.f.fled and hoa.r.s.e, she whispered, "She's gone...our baby's gone."

"I know."

"Why?"

His breath shuddered out of him and he said raggedly, "I don't know, Dana... G.o.d, I wish I did, but I don't."

"I want her back."

"Me, too."

The pain he'd been struggling to hold inside broke free, tearing out of him with a harsh sob. Tightening his arms around her, he stopped fighting the tears. Stopped fighting the pain.

Dana had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed.

It could have been minutes. Could have been hours.

h.e.l.l, for all she knew, it could have been longer.

Body stiff, eyes gritty and tired, she was on the couch, half-laying, half-sprawled across Jake's body. As she lifted her gaze to his face, he pushed up on his elbow and stared at her in the dim room. Outside, the sun was setting and it fell through the window. The golden glow left half of him bathed in light, the other half lost in the shadows.

His lids drooped low over his eyes, carefully veiling his gaze.

Blocking her out? She had to admit, she hadn't been that easy to deal with over the past few weeks. They'd both suffered the loss, but she hadn't let herself think about how it had hurt him, not any more than she'd allowed herself to feel her own grief. She swallowed, then grimaced at her raw, abused throat.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked softly.

"I don't know." She gave him a hesitant smile and it didn't last long, but it felt...real. Real... Not something she had to force, and not one of those empty smiles she didn't really feel. Wiggling, s.h.i.+fting around, she settled herself on the edge of the couch, staring down at her feet. She was still wearing her shoes-a simple pair of Mary Janes that hadn't been designed for walking a river trail. Bending down, she slipped them off and then curled her toes into the carpet as she tried to find an answer for him.

He sat up and scooted closer, reaching for her hand. She placed her hand in his, twining their fingers together and pressing her palm to his. Softly, she said, "I don't think I am okay. Not right now. But I also don't think I'm really supposed to be. Not yet. But I will be."

He smoothed her hair back from her face, cupped the back of her neck. As he leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, her heart clenched in her chest, painful and tight. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, pulling back and staring at him. "About the other day, what I said..."

Jake shook his head and reached up, pressing his thumb to her lips. "Don't. It's okay."

"No, it's not. I haven't been fair to you."

With a snort, he said, "I'm not worried about fair. I'm just worried about you...I love you." He slid off the couch and settled on his knees in front of her. "I love you."

Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them back. She'd done enough crying-she wasn't going to cry over this. Slipping off the couch, she knelt in front of him and rested her hands on his chest. "I dunno if I'd love me if I were you-I'm a mess."

"Everybody's a mess," he said, shrugging. "Just in different ways. Maybe you're just my kind of mess." He threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged, arching her head back. Staring into her eyes, he whispered again, "I love you."

"Hmmm..." she sighed against his lips as he kissed her, but when she swayed closer, he eased back.

"Jake?"

When she would have reached for him, he slid his hand down, pressed his hand to her belly. "You need a little more time." He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. "Why don't we go take a shower...then go to bed. I think we could both use some sleep."

Two weeks later Dana scowled as she climbed out of her car, glaring over her shoulder at Jake's house. His car wasn't there-and it wasn't parked in her driveway, either.

Where in the h.e.l.l was he?

She'd requested a little more time off two weeks ago and she was due to go back in another week. Today she had gone to the office, but not to work. Her check-up.

Jake had been there with her, held her hand as Joe did the exam, felt around on her belly and offered all the standard advice and various sentiments that Dana had voiced over to other parents who had gone through the same thing.