Three Reasons to Love Read online

  “But it’s arson. Most of those guys would draw the line at committing a felony, wouldn’t they?” She glanced from Mallory to Ryan.

  “Including rape? That doesn’t fit with what you just told me. A guy who rapes a woman would commit arson to keep himself from going to jail.” He glanced at Mallory to get her opinion. She gave a slight nod.

  “Ryan, I don’t know. Please, could I just rest right now?” She didn’t want to think about this right now—couldn’t think about it. Every day she dealt with her own memory of being raped five years ago. She didn’t need this new assault to add to her trauma, but of course it would.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren. Mallory will stay with you until you fall asleep. I’ll check with you tomorrow.” He kissed her cheek and left.

  Ryan was sweet, but he didn’t understand… Whenever she dealt with an abused woman, she relived her own horrible experience. Why did she continue to put herself through it?

  Some days, it was just too painful to remember.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nate had gone back to the fire station to change out of his clothes before he headed to the hospital to check on Lauren. Their shift had ended when they were on scene, so he was done for the next few days. He actually had a Friday and a Saturday off together, something he loved. His brother caught him when he came out of the locker room in a clean T-shirt and jeans. He headed for the door.

  “Nate, you going home?” Sam hollered at him.

  “No, I have somewhere I need to go first. Tell Tristan I’ll see him later.” Tristan was the youngest of the three brothers, currently a new freshman in college. He wouldn’t care what Nate was doing, but Sam would. He’d ask questions if he knew Nate was headed to the hospital.

  He jogged over to his truck and hopped in. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the Summerhill Memorial Hospital parking lot. When he cut the engine, he gripped the steering wheel before he got out of the vehicle. What the hell was he doing anyway?

  Nate had seen many victims go to the hospital. After all, the town’s firefighters went on all Emergency Medical Service calls as well. He couldn’t even guess how many patients he’d taken to the Emergency Room as part of his work, shouting out the patient’s condition as they rolled the person on a stretcher into a bay for care.

  Truth was, he could only remember the name of one other patient he’d taken to the hospital. Well, he not only remembered Lauren’s name, but he was also following up with a visit, something forbidden. He knew all the privacy laws by heart. It wasn’t his right to ask about her—he should just wait for news, but sometimes you never heard…

  For some reason, he had to know that she was all right.

  There was something about Lauren Grant that wouldn’t let him go. Maybe it was because he’d seen the fear in her eyes, or maybe it was what she’d said to him. That she would never survive another man hurting her. Who had hurt her?

  Or maybe the problem was that he’d looked into her face and turned her from an average victim to something personal. Or was it because it had been a long time since he’d been involved with a woman? He and Mandy had broken up quite a while ago. It had been almost a year since she’d walked away from him. His brothers had been after him constantly to get over it, to get over her, but he couldn’t yet. It wasn’t that he missed her, although he did miss the companionship, it was what she’d said to him before walking out. She’d accused Nate of being overprotective. Of not being able to separate his job from his personal life. He would, she’d said, always see the people he loved as victims in need of saving.

  Whatever. He’d decided it was a learning experience, only now he was wondering if he’d learned anything at all. As soon as he approached the automatic doors, he saw Ryan Ramsay headed toward him. He intercepted him, wanting an update on the situation. “Ryan, how’s Lauren? She’s your stepsister, right?”

  “She’ll be fine. A little shaken up. I think they may keep her just because of the smoke in her lungs, but she’s a fighter. Hey, thanks for going in after her, Nate.”

  “My job, but you know that. Let me know if you find anything out about a possible arsonist.”

  “Will do. She’s still in the emergency room, in the closed room at the end, but she looked like she was about to fall asleep. Probably best if you don’t bother her.”

  “Thanks, Ryan. Just wanted to check on her condition before I head home.” He fought the need to go inside as Ryan climbed into his patrol car, but in the end, he did the right thing and got into his truck.

  She needed her sleep.

  ***

  That Thursday, Lauren trudged into her mother’s house on the lake, thankful for the quiet, peaceful place and the long weekend that lay ahead. Her grad school classes had started, and she hadn’t wanted to miss anything since it was so early in the semester, so she’d suffered the almost hour-long commute from this house almost all week. Fortunately, she had no Friday classes. Her rental had been totally destroyed, so she would be staying at the lake house for the imminent future. The level of exhaustion shooting through her indicated she probably should have taken the week off. Medieval history was not calling to her at the moment, though she normally loved it.

  She made it into the kitchen and onto the back porch, her favorite place because she could look out over Orenda Lake, the serene blue water calming her soul like nothing else could. Her mother’s voice came from behind her, startling her for just a moment.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Lorraine Ramsay rushed to her side, giving her a sideways hug. “You might have overdone it. Look at the dark circles under your eyes. You need to rest.”

  “I know, Mom,” she said, setting her books on the table so she could return her mother’s hug, “but I didn’t want to miss any classes. At least I have four days off now.”

  “I understand your dedication, but I hope you plan to relax this weekend. You need to take the time to heal. What a traumatic experience you’ve been through.”

  “I have no plans at all for the weekend,” she said, lowering herself into one of the comfortable recliners on the porch. It was Labor Day weekend, the traditional last summer party on the lake. In Western New York, cool nights would take away the warmth of the lake, though many residents still boated through October.

  “Well, remember, we do have our annual Labor Day party coming up on Saturday, but other than that you can relax all you like. And if it’s too much for you, then you can just spend an hour with everyone before heading up to your room.” She moved into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of iced tea, taking the seat next to her daughter. “Your only obligation until Tuesday is to take care of yourself so you can get back on your feet. No cooking, cleaning, or working. I want to spoil you.”

  “Oh, Mom. I think I’m past that. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I know, dear,” she patted her hand. “But please don’t deny me the pleasure of taking care of you. I have so little to do these days.” Her mother was still a beauty. Her skin was flawless and her hair was dark, shot through with scattered strands of white. While she was a little rounder than she’d been most of her life, her beauty had little to do with age or weight. Warmth and compassion shone in her blue eyes.

  “You’ve worked hard raising six of us. You’ve earned the right to relax. Besides, you and Ryan are retired.” Her mother had always wanted to be a doctor but had married young. She had five other children. Spencer was the eldest, then Lauren, Daniel, Chloe, and the twins, Colton and Lucas.

  “I know, but everyone wants to feel useful and needed. Are you going to take that away from me?”

  Lauren smiled and gave in to her mother. “No. I would love to have you pamper me this weekend. Though I’ll warn you, much of my recuperation will be with my eyes closed in my bed.”

  “And that is exactly what you need. I just worry that grad school will be too much for you right now. It’s a long drive.”

  “Mom, it’s not a big deal if I have to commute to school. I like having some
thing to keep my mind busy.”

  Lauren’s father had passed away, but her mother was happily remarried to Ryan Ramsay, an anesthesiologist who had lost his wife to breast cancer. He was also a father of six. He and her mother had expanded this house to ensure it could sleep all twelve children if necessary. They were all grown children, so not many of them lived at home, but there were often visitors—from college, the service, or even those who were just back in the area.

  She knew her mother needed her to talk about what happened. So far she’d managed to avoid her questions, claiming to be too tired or stressed to relive the attack. Perhaps this was the best time to be open with her. Sipping on her iced tea, she waited for her mother’s questions. She said, “It’s okay, Mom. You can ask me whatever you want. I’m ready to talk.”

  Her mother cleared her throat. Lauren recognized it as her mother’s attempt to hold back tears. She hated to continually torture her mother this way—it made her feel even more helpless and out of control.

  Her mother finally asked, “What memories do you have of the fire? Do you recall anything about who could have done this to you?”

  She leaned back in her chair, popping up the recliner’s footrest and making herself comfortable. Then she told her mother exactly what she’d told Ryan and the other officers who’d questioned her—about the threat she’d heard through the front window, the breaking glass, and then the explosion.

  “Lauren, I know you don’t want to think about this, but I must ask…do you think it’s possible it could be the man who raped you? He was never caught.”

  The rape had happened her sophomore year of college. He’d dragged her behind the bushes one night while she was walking home from the library. The rest she did her best to forget. She recalled little about him other than that he was white, dark haired, and had a worn a mask, the kind one would wear in the bitter cold of winter.

  She was pretty sure it wasn’t the voice she’d heard the night of the fire.

  “Mom, you know I don’t recall much, just his voice. From what I heard…I don’t think it was the same guy. Ryan was on duty the night of the fire, but he’ll talk to Jake and the other men on the force. I’m sure they’ll come up with some suspects. Jake told me they’ve figured out which accelerant was used to start the fire. That could help them find the arsonist. I don’t want to think about it this weekend, though. Let Ryan and Jake and the other guys do their jobs. Jake said they may even call in some experts from Rochester’s force to help out.”

  “Honey…”

  “Mom, please don’t. I know what you’re going to say.” She could practically recite her mom’s lecture on the importance of pursuing a normal life, including boyfriends and outings and things other than work and studying. She was always pushing her to go out, but the only places Lauren ever felt safe were family outings, especially with her two stepbrothers from the police force.

  “I would be remiss as your mother if I did not mention this to you. My heart breaks for you because this man hurt you, and worse yet, he’s still hurting you. You haven’t dated any boys since the attack. There must be something you can do. Do you want to try another counselor?”

  “No.” How many counselors would it take? None of them could erase her memories. She’d tried hypnosis at her mother’s insistence. No success. “I know you want grandchildren, but you’ll have plenty of other…”

  “That is not the point of this conversation and you know it.” The pained expression on her mother’s face forced her to look away.

  She hated disappointing her mother.

  Her mother continued pushing, as she always did. “This is about your happiness. I just think you’d be happier if you found someone to share your life with—a companion, a best friend. Someone who could help you get through this.”

  Lauren replied, “You know I’d like nothing more than that for myself. I just haven’t been able to find a man who’s willing to give up the sexual aspect of a relationship in favor of a platonic one.” Not that she’d approached many about it. There was no point, was there? How many men were interested in a relationship without sex? She just couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone to touch her in an intimate way again after what that man had done to her.

  “I will not belabor this. All I’m asking you to do is confide in someone. Let someone in. It doesn’t have to be a boyfriend, or me, or even a counselor. Why not talk to Mallory? She’s always been a good listener.” Her mother let out a deep sigh. “I’ve said all I plan to say on the matter. You go ahead and rest. Please consider my advice.” She stood up, patted her daughter’s leg, and said, “I better go make that macaroni salad for dinner.” She kissed her forehead and left the room.

  Lauren closed her eyes and fell fast asleep, dreaming of a man with dark hair and gray eyes, someone she did not recognize. For once, it was a dream about a man that wasn’t a nightmare.

  ***

  Nate got up early since Tristan had classes at Summerhill College. At least he would have a nice three-day weekend. They had plans to attend a picnic on Saturday, but that was it. The rest of the weekend was a wait and see situation—with any luck, they’d be invited to the lake by someone with a house and a boat on the waterfront.

  He looked at the clock as soon as he stepped out of the shower, wondering why Tristan wasn’t up yet. Shit, sometimes he hated having to play mother to Tristan. Their mom had died in a car accident and their father had bailed on them two years later, so it had been just the three of them for the last five years. Nate was the eldest, so responsibilities fell on his shoulders.

  True, Sam helped support Tristan and the house their parents had left them, but it still felt like a heavy load at times. How many times had he wished he could just forget everything? Do what he wanted without worrying about other people?

  No. He loved his brothers. He’d be alone otherwise. “Tristan?” He wrapped a towel around his waist and marched down the hallway in his bare feet. “Tristan,” he said again, sticking his head in his brother’s room, “don’t you have class today?”

  His brother’s tawny head stuck out of the covers as he groaned, “Go away.”

  “Don’t you have class?”

  “Yeah, but I’m in college now. I don’t have to go if I don’t want to.” He rolled over and covered his head with the blanket.

  “Get your ass out of that bed and go. True, you don’t have to go, but that’s a great way to guarantee failure.”

  “Stop acting like my mother again, Nate. Get the hell out of my room.” His voice was completely muffled by the blankets.

  Nate strode over and yanked on the bed covers, pulling on them until Tristan almost tumbled out of bed.

  Tristan sat up to keep from falling. “What the hell?”

  “Get up. You may have a partial scholarship, but you won’t have one for long if you keep slacking off. There’s a difference between high school and college, all right. College costs money.”

  “All right. I’ll go. Just get out.” Tristan looked like hell, like he’d had too many beers last night. He and Sam had agreed to allow their brother to drink a few beers even though he was under the legal drinking age of twenty-one in New York State, but only as long as it didn’t affect his classes and he never drove under the influence.

  Sam came along and stuck his head in the door. “Aren’t you supposed to get a group assignment today? If you don’t go, you’ll be stuck with all the leftover losers.”

  “Yeah, in one class.” That got his attention. He climbed out of bed, but not before griping, “All my friends told me college is supposed to be a big party.” He grabbed some clothes and headed to the shower.

  Sam called out after him, “If you don’t go to any of your classes, you’re not going to meet any of the hot girls.”

  Tristan slammed the bathroom door, but at least he was getting ready.

  “Thanks for talking some sense into him. What the hell has gotten into him lately?” Nate asked as he headed to the kitchen, Sam behind him.
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  “He’s eighteen, or have you forgotten what that feels like?”

  “I lost my mother at eighteen. Kind of ruined a lot of things for me. I try my best to forget that year.”

  Sam ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. But look at it this way—he graduated high school with good grades. Now it’s time for us to ease up a bit. He’s a good kid. He’ll figure it out.”

  Nate sighed as he poured himself cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. “I know. I just can’t seem to stop.” He sat down at the kitchen table, pulling his phone out.

  Sam said, “Mandy was right, you know.”

  Nate set his coffee cup down and looked up at his brother with a narrowed gaze. “Right about what?”

  “You’re overprotective, especially when it comes to us.” Sam grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and a box of cereal, their usual breakfast. “If you stopped trying to control us, there’d be fewer fights.”

  Nate slammed his coffee cup down, spilling liquid over the edges, and grabbed his phone. He walked out of the door without a word, but Sam wouldn’t leave it at that.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Fishing. Somewhere where I can’t control you. Enjoy.”

  “What’s with the stick up your ass?” Sam asked. “I was just trying to talk.”

  Nate didn’t answer. He just headed out to the garage and gathered his fishing gear, threw it into the back of the truck. No one would bother him at the local fishing pier, where peace and quiet ruled. It would be just him and the fish.

  Maybe Mandy was right…and Sam. A shrink would probably tell him he was overbearing because he felt like he had no control in his life.

  And they would be right.

  Something else was on his mind, too. Something he didn’t care to share with anyone. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lauren Grant. And sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on like he hadn’t had in months.