These Ties That Bind

“I can’t do this.”

Sara was strong enough to control her body and its desires. She’d had a lot of practice. She didn’t need to understand the darkness lurking inside—whatever it was—to know that she didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

“Damn it, Sara.” A thread of desperation rang in Rem’s voice. “Let go for once in your life.”

“No. I did that once. With you. Remember? And I ended up pregnant. You walked out on us. I’ve raised a great kid. All by myself. I don’t need you.”

“I’m not talking about need. I’m talking about love. We belong together. We always have. We’re connected.”

Sara shook her head sadly. “We might have been at one time. But everything has changed.”

Dear Reader,

Remington Caldwell begged for his own story. He first appeared in Beyond Ordinary, as the hero, Timm Franck’s, best friend. The idea of writing about the gorgeous bad boy who had worked hard to reform appealed to me. Where would his life go after redemption? And why couldn’t he forget Timm’s sister, Sara, a gray wren who was hard to ignore?

They’d traveled a rocky road because of one incident that changed their lives forever, that wreaked havoc with their best intentions and with their futures. Sara started as Rem’s little buddy, though. So the only way this story could go, despite having difficulties to resolve, was for them to end as friends.

I wanted to explore the idea that, although every friend we make in life counts, sometimes it’s those old friends who call to us and make us feel like we’re coming home. Throughout our lives, those friends act as landmarks that ground us, that remind us about the best parts of ourselves. When Sara finally comes home, she steps straight into Rem’s arms.

Happy reading!

Mary Sullivan

These Ties That Bind

Mary Sullivan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Sullivan recently moved back into her old neighborhood and is getting in touch with old friends. The joy of renewing these friendships enriches her life these days. Funny how easy it is to slip into those relationships as though time never passed, as though we are still those young children with our lives ahead of us. As much as she loves her old friends, Mary also enjoys making new ones and hearing from readers. You can reach her at www.marysullivanbooks.com.

Thank you, Megan,

for making this a better book.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE

SARA FRANCK HAD NEVER considered herself a coward, but walking into Chester’s Bar and Grill this evening was about to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. She hesitated on the doorstep.

Earlier today, Remington Caldwell had sent her a note.

Tonight. Seven o’clock. Chester’s. Far corner, back booth. Just you and me, babe. Time for a reckoning.

Rem

To a woman who prided herself on her common sense, the butterflies in her stomach were disconcerting, but she’d been off balance since June—the last time she’d seen Rem.

He’d asked her to marry him…

“Sara?” Her brother, Timm, held the front door open for her. “You coming?”

The scents of beer and grilled meats, and the welcoming warmth of the place enveloped her.

Drawing on the determination that had pulled her through every hardship she’d ever faced, Sara followed Timm in out of the frosty December night, to Christmas carols filling the air and candles winking on every table. Silver garlands hung from the rafters. Fresh cedar swags gathered with red velvet bows covered the walls. A decorated Christmas tree took pride of place on a small stage.

Chester and his wife, Missy, had invited all of Ordinary, Montana, to their first annual Christmas party and it looked as if the whole town had shown up. The sounds of conversation and merriment saturated the big room, but Sara heard little. Rem was here.

Timm went straight to the bar, to visit with his new wife, Angel, who was helping out for the night as bartender and waitress. No surprise. After all, Missy was her mom and Chester her stepfather.

Sara stepped farther into the room and, as though her heart were a compass, spotted Rem in the far corner. Ha. Some compass. It had been slipping since the summer, careening off center, along with her ability to keep focus on the direction her life had always taken and should continue to take, and all of it Rem’s fault.

She started toward him with her tender feelings locked down. She didn’t want or need to be vulnerable to this man.

Someone called out a greeting. She answered in kind, but had no idea to whom.

Rem watched her as she crossed the busy restaurant, the hot blue of his eyes a guiding light.

Don’t look at me like that.

He raised a glass of clear liquid to his lips. So, he was still drinking. What was in that glass? Gin? Vodka?

Sara, I’m a changed man, he’d said in June. I want you to see the new me.

Sitting here in the bar amid the hubbub of a happy crowd, the new Rem didn’t look much different from the old and it proved that she’d made the right decision when she’d turned him down. He’d lied about changing.

He drained the last of his drink. Her gaze followed. With that mouth, how could it not? He’d kissed her that day in June, just before proposing.

Why did that kiss still haunt her? Because it had been sweet and tempting and seductive. But he’d been sweet and tempting before, when he was a teenager, and things hadn’t worked out then. Why would anything work now?

She slid into the booth across from him.

He kept his eyes on her, but didn’t say anything.

Angel showed up beside them. “What can I get you, Sara?”

“We’ll have a couple of club sodas on ice,” Rem answered before Sara could.

Angel nodded and walked away, taking Rem’s empty glass with her.

“When you get a minute, Angel,” someone shouted. “We need another round here.”

“I’m on it, folks,” Angel called.

Sara ignored all of it, her focus on the man who had the power to shift her world’s axis. “I’m a big girl, Rem. I could have ordered my own drink.”

“I know.”

“So, you’re not drinking?”

“Not a drop.”

The scent of French fries wafted from the table beside them. Sara knew she should eat, but couldn’t. Her stomach rejected the thought, at least until she’d finished her business with Rem—whatever this business was.

“Since when have you not been drinking, Rem?”

“Since I got stabbed in the summer.”

Sara didn’t want to think about the stabbing. Instead, she concentrated on the drinking issue. “How long will it last this time?”

“Forever. Those two months last summer were an aberration, Sara, because you turned me down. I was hurting. That was the first alcohol I’d had in six years. I’m over the drinking and the disappointment.”

“Why am I here?” she asked. “You proposed. I said no. What’s left to discuss?”

Rem got out of the booth and she wondered where he was going. Before she could stop him, he sat beside her.

“What—?”

He forced her into the corner, facing him with her back against the wall, and laid his warm hands on her thighs. She knew she should protest, should push him out of the booth because he was too big and too close, but her body craved him even as her mind rallied against him.

“Damn it, Rem.”

He turned toward her.

“I—” Whatever she was going to say died on her lips, the festive crowd faded away and they might as well have been alone in the room. Rem stared at her with brilliant blue eyes framed by dark lashes, reflections of the white lights hanging from the ceiling shining in his pupils.

Black hair fell across his forehead and she almost reached out to push it back, managing to stop before making a fool of herself.

He smelled like cedar and pine. Maybe he’d helped Chester decorate today.

Amy Grant sang about having a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. But Sara’s wasn’t. It was dark and scared and off-kilter. She wanted her sanity back, her old life before Rem had proposed.

“Why?” she asked, as though he could know her thoughts. “Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?”

“I wanted to make things right.”

“They already were right. My life was perfect.”

“Nothing was right between us, Sara.” He ran a finger down her cheek and she jerked away.

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

He let his hand fall to the table. “Nothing’s been right since that night in the hospital after Finn was born. I rejected you both. I was scared and immature and dead wrong. I should have married you then.”

“For Finn. Because I got pregnant.” It wasn’t a question. “So, more than eleven years later you proposed out of guilt?”

“No!” Rem slapped his palm on the table. “Are you blind? I love you.” He hauled her close and wrapped his fingers around her nape. Before she could protest, his lips were on hers and there was nothing sweet or seductive about this kiss.

It was carnal. Heat-drenched. Laden with so much anger and frustration, Sara could taste it. She felt the same things herself.

Her body begged her to give in to the kiss, but she wouldn’t, because that darkness inside her that she’d felt toward Rem for years had grown bigger in the past six months. Since June. Since that devastating marriage proposal. She didn’t know where the darkness came from or what it was, but it was profound and terrified her to her toes. Something that had been hidden for a long time had worked its way too close to the surface. A flood of emotion threatened to pour out of her and all she could do was stick her finger in the hole, resist the pressure and hang on for dear life.

She thought she heard someone whisper, “Wow, it’s about time.”

Sara took one last taste of Rem’s tongue and lips, because it would be their last kiss—ever—then forced herself to pull away. His moisture cooled on her lips and his breath feathered bits of hair around her face.

“I can’t do this.” She was strong enough to control her body and its desires. She’d had a lot of practice.

She didn’t need to understand the darkness lurking inside—whatever it was—to know that she didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She and Finn had a good life. Things would stay the way they were.

“Damn it, Sara.” A thread of desperation rang in Rem’s voice. “Let go for once in your life.”

“No. I did that once. With you. Remember? And I ended up pregnant. I wouldn’t give up Finn for the world, but it’s been anything but easy. You walked out on us. You decided you didn’t want to be a father. I’ve raised a great kid. All by myself. I don’t need you.”

“I’m not talking about need. I’m talking about love and companionship. We belong together. We always have. We’re connected.” He leaned forward. “If we don’t belong together, why did you sleep with me that night last summer?”

“That was a mistake.” She traced a scar on the tabletop with her nail. “Do you think your mom knew I stayed late that night? Do you think she heard me when I ran out?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We aren’t kids anymore.” He lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to look into his intense blue eyes. “Answer my question. Why did you make love to me that night?”

“You’d been stabbed. You almost died.”

“And it scared you because we’re connected. Because if I died, part of you would die, too.”

She shook her head sadly. “We might have been at one time, before you burned Timm. But that changed everything.”

Rem cursed and bracketed her face with his hands. He rested his forehead on hers, breathing hard. “That was an accident. I was a kid. You know that. Timm’s forgiven me. Why can’t you?”

She wanted to touch him so she curled her hands into fists in her lap. She had to protect herself and her son. “What about all of that stuff when you were a teenager? The drinking? The girls? The street racing?”

“There’s a difference between what I did as a teenager and what I did last summer. When I was a kid, drinking and partying were a pattern in my life. I’d burned my best friend. I didn’t think I deserved better for myself. Last summer’s drinking was an aberration after six years of sobriety. Can’t you see they aren’t the same?”

He backed away and the bar came into focus again. People talked, laughed, sang along with the Christmas carol tinting the air with nostalgia.

Two glasses filled with clear soda and ice sat side by side on the table. Angel must have brought them while they were kissing.

Heat crawled up Sara’s neck.

Rem picked up one of the glasses. “Club soda. No alcohol. I haven’t had a drop since the stabbing. I’ve changed, Sara. You need to accept that.”

He slammed the glass down and soda splashed onto the table.

“But I haven’t seen any change,” she said. “You drank in the summer. You sure looked like the old Rem.”

“That was temporary. I was upset after you turned me down.”

“Okay, so you haven’t had a drink since then. But you could again at any time. It shouldn’t have happened in the summer.”

“It happened because I’m human. No one is perfect. Not even you.” He rammed his fingers through his hair, his frustration a palpable thing beating between them. “There are things you don’t know.”

“What are you talking about? What things?”

He got out of the booth and his absence sucked all of the warmth out of the room. He reclaimed the bench on the other side and she felt a loss whose source she couldn’t identify.

“Nothing,” he said. “Forget I said anything.” He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Okay, listen. You haven’t seen the changes in me because you were away too many years at school and then working. Your visits have been short. A week here. A week there. Just like now.”

He took a long swallow of soda. “Dad died seven years ago. His death scared me straight. I knew I had to save myself. Ma needed me to grow up and take responsibility. I did, Sara. I went to school for six years. I didn’t drink. Didn’t party. I’m a veterinarian now. I take care of the ranch. I take care of Ma.”

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. His gaze shot to her face. “Your fingers are icicles.”

“I know.” This year she felt winter’s chill so deeply. She didn’t know why she couldn’t get warm.

You were warm a minute ago, in this man’s arms. She ignored that sentiment.

“Before last summer,” Rem went on, “I’d been sober for six and a half years. That’s a long time.”

“Yes, it is, but you did drink again last summer.”

“And I don’t now. We’re going around in circles, Sara.”

She didn’t respond. What ruled her decisions about Rem were the times when he lost control, because those times destroyed her, devastated her, starting with her brother’s eleventh birthday party. Rem had sprayed Timm with foam streamers and the birthday candles had set the foam—and Timm—on fire. Rem’s questionable choices were terrifying.

“What about the car you crashed when you were sixteen? You were lucky to survive.”

He tapped one fist against his forehead. “I’m thirty-two years old. Why are you dwelling on ancient history?”

“Because it will always be there between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Life changes. Only your memories stay the same.”

“That’s true. My memories don’t change.”

As much as it hurt her to do so, she took her fingers out of his grasp.

“Nothing is going to happen between us, Rem. That’s final.” She moved to slide out of the booth, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“If you leave now, it will be final. For me, too. I’m done with you, Sara.”

Rem sounded so strong, so determined, that Sara hesitated. He had hovered on the edges of her life for so many years. Had always been there, a constant, undeniable shadow. A man who’d loved her unceasingly. As of this moment, that all ended.

“I understand,” she said, and left the booth.

It was over. This time, for good.

She walked away, through the warm and festive restaurant and straight out the door into the quiet night, where falling snow coated the ground like a feather duvet, cloaking the world in a reverent hush. And all Sara felt as she trudged to her mother’s home was hollowness in the pit of her stomach and a bone-deep chill.

CHAPTER TWO

THE MOMENT HE HEARD THE CRASH, Rem shot out of his sweat-soaked bed and ran to the open window. Light-headed, he grasped the sill for support.

The June sun was too bright, already too high. Must be eight-thirty or nine o’clock. He’d slept in.

He’d been dreaming of Sara Franck again. And fire.

On the small highway that ran along his land, a patch of orange glimmered, so pretty it looked almost harmless. Was that actually fire or a remnant of his heat-wrought imagination?

He scrubbed his eyes and peered out the window to see a car nose-deep in the ancient oak beside his front gate.

The glow of orange grew.

Fire! Real, not dream-induced.

Lord, was there someone in that car?

With no time for a shirt, he scrambled into his jeans, almost falling when he hit the stairs.

His cell phone sat on the hall table where he’d left it beside his car keys.

As he ran out of the house, he tried to see whether anyone was up and walking around the car in the distance. Nothing moved.

Rem dove into his old SUV and sped down his long driveway toward the road that led to Ordinary, Montana.

He needed the fire department. Fast.

His hands shook and he dropped his phone.

Damn!

He wiped his eyes to clear them of sleep.

Wake up, already.

A too-long moment later, he pulled to a screeching stop at the end of the drive, scrabbled around under his seat for the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“It’s Rem Caldwell. There’s been a car crash. Looks bad. I need the fire department and an ambulance.” He rattled off his address and jumped out of his vehicle.

Thick smoke obscured the compact car that had torn a gash into the oak, making it impossible to tell whether anyone was trapped inside.

Fire crackled in the front of the vehicle.

His heart in his throat, he rounded the car. A woman sat on the road holding her head and looking bewildered.

Thank God she’d gotten out.

“There’s a woman on the road,” he shouted to the emergency operator. “Alive, but hurt.” He shoved the phone into his pocket.

At least she wasn’t burning in that twisted wreckage, her flesh on fire and smelling of roasting meat.

Rem shook his head to rid his mind of old images.

“I’m coming!” he called to the woman. She didn’t react. Blood matted her hair and the asphalt around her.

On the far side of the road, in another pool of blood, lay a large stag. If he wasn’t dead already, then soon. The impact with the animal had crushed the front of the car right to the steering wheel.

The driver was lucky to be alive.

He squatted beside her. “Where are you hurt besides your head?” Judging by the way she held her ribs, she’d cracked or broken at least one. He guessed her arm was broken, too.

“What happened?” she whispered, the words slurred. Concussion, maybe?

“You hit a stag.”

She rubbed her ear, then turned to her side and vomited.

He supported her until she was finished.

“What happened?” she asked again and, with that evidence of confusion, he knew she had a concussion.

A high-pitched scream burst from the wreckage and the hair on Rem’s arms stood on end. Dear God.

Someone was inside that burning metal box.

“Who else was in the car with you?” Rem yelled over his shoulder as he ran toward the vehicle.

The driver didn’t respond.

He scanned the car. Too much fire. “Who’s in there?”

A young voice inside the car screamed, “Mom, help me!”

SARA FRANCK GLANCED at the cast on her son’s broken wrist, disappointed that Finn had been so foolish. He sat in the passenger seat staring out his window and avoiding talking to her, as was usual lately. If he was this moody at eleven, she dreaded his teen years.

She gripped the steering wheel. She’d hoped that moving back to Ordinary would settle him down.

“Are you sure you’re okay for your horseback riding lesson today?”

Finn shook his hair out of his eyes and mumbled, “Yeah.”

She pointed to his cast. “You won’t be able to attend the lifeguard lessons I signed you up for. You can’t go in a pool with that on your arm.”

“Why do I have to do so much stuff every day? It’s summer. Why can’t I just hang out like other kids?”

“To keep you busy. To keep you out of trouble.”

“Mo-om, how many times do I hafta tell you? I’m not going to get into trouble.”

And yet, he’d broken his wrist yesterday.

“I have four words for you, Finn. Those boys in Bozeman.”

“Well, I’m not there anymore. I can’t hang out with them again, can I?”

Determined to check out the scene of his accident, Sara turned off Main and drove by the parking lot where his wrist had done battle with asphalt and had lost.

Her foot hit the brakes. Makeshift skateboarding ramps littered the asphalt. Obviously, kids had cobbled together whatever materials they could find. Oh, dear Lord, one of the ramps looked like an old rec room door. Finn could have killed himself. “That’s where you were skateboarding?” Fear sharpened her tone. “Oh, Finn, you’re lucky you didn’t die.”

“God, Mom, don’t exaggerate.” Finn crossed his arms and curled his shoulders in on himself, his lower lip jutting even more than normal these days.

“I’m happy to see you out doing something other than lying around listening to music and doodling in your sketchbook,” she said. “Skateboarding is fine, but doing it on wooden ramps over concrete is nuts. What were you thinking?”

“I was having fun,” he shouted, then lapsed back into his “I’m too cool to care” attitude.

Foolish boy.

She shot out of town, driving faster than she should, but for Pete’s sake, how was she supposed to survive motherhood?

“Thank goodness you were wearing your helmet.”

“Of course I was. I’m not stupid, Mom.” Why did the word sound like an insult when he used it?

Where have you gone, Finn? What have the aliens done with my sweet little boy and why did they leave this hostile stranger in his place?

He turned his back on her, as far as his seat belt would allow, and stared out the window.

Sara reached out to touch that bit of his neck peeking out from his too-long hair, but he flinched away from her. If she could, she’d encase him in bubble wrap for protection.

His twelfth birthday was less than two weeks away. His feet were getting big, almost man-size. That vulnerable neck, though? That was still little boy.

She’d thought she’d taught him how to be careful, but his streak of—of sheer recklessness worried her. What if he was like his father?

That left a bad taste in her mouth.

Adolescence barreled down on Finn, heedless and full of dangerous potential.