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She hadn’t put it into words. Even in her own mind. But she nodded.
Once again, Michael was right.
* * *
MIKE SPENT MUCH of the next two weeks wondering if he’d lost his mind—if he had any idea at all what he was doing.
The rest of the time he was a man on a mission. Two missions: see his brother graduated and on the road to a successful future, and support Kacey as she worked to get her life back. His specific mission there was to keep his eye on the light inside her, to help her believe it was still there.
Willie had applied to a couple of state colleges. He was cooperating with all aspects of his Mike-imposed probation, even helping around the house with dishes and picking up. He just couldn’t seem to get over the remorse of having had a beer the first time Michael had left him alone.
The kid’s constant apologies for everything—from leaving his load of clothes in the washer to dropping a pork chop on the kitchen floor—were beginning to wear on Mike. Still, he didn’t relent regarding the beer. Didn’t tell the kid that his actions hadn’t been that bad. Sara Havens had suggested to Michael, when he’d picked Willie up from the Stand one afternoon, that his brother’s sense of guilt, while latent, could very well stem from years of misbehavior. While Willie might appear to be apologizing for a pork chop, his contrition was for the pot he’d smoked six months before, the joint he’d rolled four weeks ago, the test he’d failed the previous year or the money he’d taken out of his mother’s purse before that. He was sorry for his belligerence.
Most of all, of course, he was sorry for shooting Michael.
As all of their previous counselors had said, Willie was going to have to work through that guilt. To get to the other side of it. This was something he had to do on his own—no one else could do it for him.
But on Wednesday afternoon, when Michael picked up his brother, Sara told him something else. She believed that Willie was finally doing what everyone had known he had to do. Instead of becoming one with the guilt, giving in to it, taking it on, living it, he was finally working through it and was on the way to putting it behind him.
He hoped to God that was the case, he told Kacey when he phoned to let her know he was on his way to LA. She was in her dressing room, in between scenes.
She’d sounded genuinely thrilled with his Willie news. Asking questions.
And then she’d brought him back to what he was trying not to think about, his reason for going to LA, when she asked, “You’re sure you’re okay with this, Michael?” She sounded breezier than she had in weeks, but still nowhere near the way she’d been before the attack. “I can go alone...”
He was picking her up at the studio and accompanying her to a black-tie affair where her director Steve was being honored for his work on The Rich and Loyal. A lot of industry people were going to be there, including Bo. It was by invitation only and had included a guest.
There’d still been no media mention of her attack. She’d managed to lie low for the three weeks since the incident—working long hours and spending her weekends in Santa Raquel with her family. And sneak aways with Michael. He hadn’t been back to Lacey’s house. Nor had he and Kacey been out together publicly in town.
But things were changing between them. In the past, she’d never in a million years have asked him to any kind of function in Beverly Hills. And if she had, he’d never in a million years have accepted. But she’d been loath to show up alone, especially with Bo there. And she’d been unable to bring herself to ask any of the men she knew in the city.
She’d been meeting with Dr. Freelander, and having conversations with Sara, too, but she was still struggling with the idea that her sexuality was a danger to her, and yet, without it, she felt as though she lost value...
“Michael, if you’re too uncomfortable, I can go alone. It’s a sit-down dinner with assigned seating in a ballroom. It’s not like there will be dancing, or like I really need to bring someone. I can just say my guest took ill or was called out of town. Which you are...out of town...”
She’d brought her dress for the event with her to the studio. At least, that had been her plan.
If he didn’t go, she’d be left to drive herself from the studio to the event and then home. Or take a cab. If he was there, their tentative plan had been for him to pick her up from work and drive her to the event and then back to her place, where he’d crash on the couch, then he’d drive her to work in the morning, where her car would still be, and head back to Santa Raquel.
His family thought he was out of town overnight on business. Willie was staying at home in his old room.
“Michael?”
There could be photos from the event. Could be another photo of Kacey, looking drunk, with Mike as the one who was behind her, holding her up.
People he knew might see them.
“I’ll be there.” He finally made his decision, after which he admitted to himself that he’d been strongly considering backing out on her. He was her Santa Raquel friend. He knew his place. His responsibilities. And, after the past few weeks, he was fully certain he could manage them with complete success.
Beverly Hills was an entirely different story.
But she needed someone. And since, according to her, he was the only man other than Jem and her father whom she could stand to be close to right now, and she didn’t want her family to know quite how badly she was struggling, he’d been the obvious choice.
“You really don’t have to, Michael. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you and I can’t bear to do that to you.”
She knew about his aversion to large crowds. To eating out in public. He hadn’t told her that the thought of being seen in public with her—and being the recipient of all the shocked glances, of pity—made his blood run cold.
“You aren’t taking advantage of me. I’ve got my eyes wide-open.” He wished to God people would quit thinking that he didn’t see what was going on. He knew full well that Kacey would never be his—not in the man-woman sense. But he believed she’d be his friend for life. Which meant more.
