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nine
Constance glared into her sister’s innocent-looking eyes. How many times had she been through this? Sunny, plowing ahead with little thought to the endgame, leaping off buildings for shiny prizes. “I told you not to go back to Janice’s yet. I told you to bide your time. Now that beagle is probably stuck in there forever. Does that make you feel better?” Constance gestured in the direction of the Matteri property, which started several miles down this path, deep into the Virginia woods.
Sunny’s eyes welled up. “Don’t say that.” Her chin quivered. “I still think I can help him. You just have to help me first.”
Fezzi gave a woof that sounded suspiciously like an apology. Constance stared down at him, but he only grinned, his tongue lolling to the side as he panted. The air was cold but Constance had walked him at a brisk pace from her place to Sunny’s, down the worn dirt path she used to run on. The old boy could move at a pretty good clip with the hobble-hop-step he’d adapted to long ago on his three legs.
“I can’t believe you’re not in jail. You really should be in jail.”
“I know,” Sunny agreed. “But you have to help me.”
“Now I know why you were so happy to see me this morning.” Constance immediately regretted making her sister almost cry, which only happened if something terrible befell a dog. To Constance, Sunny was still just a five-year-old girl who’d lost her mother, platinum hair sticking to her wet cheeks and blue eyes an ocean of sadness. “Why can’t this guy just set up an appointment?”
“He’s the stubborn sort.” Sunny swiped a knuckle under her nose, which was red from the cold air. “Doesn’t need anybody’s help for anything. You’re good with guys like that. Remember, that’s how you became a massage therapist. To help Daddy.” Sunny shrugged. “So the idea is that you sort of cozy up to him and get him to let you work your magic without him knowing the detective had anything to do with it. I know you can do it. Just like with Daddy. You’d tell him you needed to use him for ‘practice’ and he had no idea what was going on.” Sunny offered a smile—a little bow on the neat little package she’d just wrapped up.
A door creaked on the main cabin. Roger appeared a second later, food bowls in his arms, to start the morning rounds. They all waved at each other.
“But I lived with Dad. How the hell am I supposed to cozy up to some random guy?”
Sunny’s smile deepened. “That’s the best part. Turns out the detective—and his best buddy—go to your gym. You know, the gym you hate that you went back to, anyway?” She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“I shouldn’t have told you I went back.” Constance’s cheeks went warm. “I barely know anyone. And I’m not going back again. I’m done there. I don’t need a gym to get fit. I can do it myself. I will, I swear. Dang it, Sunny.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you always make messes for me to clean up?”
“It’ll be easy.” Sunny clasped Constance’s hands and squeezed. “I promise. Look.” She dug a business card out of her purse. “You don’t have to mingle with people and meet all the gym members. I know how you hate that.” She pressed the card into Constance’s palm. “The guy you’re going to help is the owner. See? Easy. Have you met the owner yet? His name is some old movie star name. It’s...” Sunny reached to take the card back.
“Rhett,” Constance supplied, her heart suddenly thumping hard in her chest, like she and Fezzi had been on a run instead of a walk. For a second, she was back on the trail, lean and mean and full of the cool morning air. There wasn’t anything quite like those morning runs she used to take, the cobwebs shook clean and the blood flowing smooth and her brain both alive and relaxed. She was an athletic, confident woman in her early thirties, running up and down these trails at least three times a week. The other three days, she’d run around the neighborhood or at the high school track, depending on her goals. She was a smart woman, who planned for everything. By training on trails, roads and the track, she was ready for any kind of race, both various distances and terrains. She planned for hydration on longer runs, knew to dress like it was fifteen degrees cooler than the actual air temperature, rotated her running shoes, carbo-loaded if necessary, scheduled taper weeks before a big event and never, ever wore new clothes or tried new foods on a race day.
Man, she had it all together.
Until Daddy got sick. Her running tapered off. She got slow, sad and unmotivated. And Josh started running with somebody else.
“Yeah, that’s it. Rhett.” Sunny’s voice was bright with surprise. “So you know him? You’ve met the owner? You’ve... Oh.” She quieted. The color of her eyes deepened. “Ohhh.”
“Stop.” Constance regretted how quickly the word came. “Yes.” Her voice was cool. “I’ve met him.”And, she didn’t add,I’ve already massaged him. His leg, anyway.Which hadn’t been entirely altruistic. Her offer to massage Rhett had been as much for herself as a way to pay him back for his instruction in the gym. She wanted to know what he felt like. Shehadto know what he felt like.
And just as she’d imagined, based on the first time she’d touched him, Rhett’s energy turned out to be strong, damaged and deeply rooted. It mimicked what the muscles in his thigh had done: in order to guard the destruction, deep inside, the muscles surrounding the wounds were a hard, protective gauntlet. The rigidity of the wall gave him pain, but it also served a purpose. Constance had to massage with caution. She could soften him a little, to ease his considerable discomfort, but to go too deep, too fast, would only do more damage than good. That wall hadn’t been built in a day, and couldn’t come tumbling down in one, either.
“This is the guy who smiled at your unicorn shirt, isn’t it?” Sunny said.
Constance’s gaze flew to Sunny’s. She stopped herself from saying,How did you know that?“I’m not sure I can do this, Sunny. I understand now why the detective is hesitant. Rhett is...complicated.” She closed her eyes and felt his energy again as she worked his leg. His was exactly the sort of energy she’d stopped working with since Daddy died and Josh left. His sort of massage was the polar opposite of the Classic Spa Massage.
“And?”
“And—” Constance didn’t hide her exasperation “—remember when I worked at Walter Reed? With the wounded combat vets?” She waited, letting it sink in. When realization showed on Sunny’s creased brow, she pressed on. “Yeah. Like that.”
“Well.” Sunny shrugged helplessly. “I get it, but...you helped those patients. You made things better. Most of the time. Right?”
Constance opened her eyes with a sigh. “I’d have to be very careful. He’s not someone to mess with, and I wouldn’t want to hurt him. He’s a—” Constance glanced down at Fezzi and the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them “—dangerous breed.”
Sunny’s eyes were no longer teary. Instead, the yin to her yang had taken over and a sly glint had settled over the face she’d inherited straight from Mom. “So...is that a yes?”
Constance could barely believe the word that came out of her mouth. What the hell had come over her?
“Yes.”
