The Twin Bargain Page 3

  He leaned forward, the cell tucked between his shoulder and his ear. “Shouldn’t we call Amber’s dad, Dwight?”

  “Amber wouldn’t thank us for involving him. There’s other stuff going on I haven’t had time to share with you.”

  “What about calling the sheriff’s office?”

  “She’d be mortified if I brought the police into this. She’s probably in the school parking lot trying to get that old clunker of hers started.”

  “All night?” His voice rose. “What if she’s stranded on some deserted mountain road?”

  Suppose her brakes had failed? His gut seized. The stretch of highway between the campus and town was notorious for its switchbacks and sheer drop-offs.

  But it would do no good to mention that. His grandmother was worried enough already.

  “I—I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Her voice quavered. “But GeorgeAnne and I thought it might be better if it was you who went looking.”

  “You did the right thing, Grandma.” His bare feet hit the floor with a thud. “I’m heading out now.”

  His grandmother emitted an audible sigh. “Thank you, Ethan. This may change your plans for tomorrow.”

  “It’s already tomorrow.”

  “The girls have already lost one parent, Ethan. You—you know what that’s like.”

  He did know. Phone pressed against his ear, he hurriedly dressed. “Don’t worry. I’m on it. I won’t stop looking until I find Amber and bring her home.”

  But what if something unthinkable had happened to Amber?

  Within minutes, he clambered aboard his motorbike. Darkness still hovered like an oppressive blanket over the ridge. Heading away from town, there were no streetlights on the isolated mountain pass. He felt as cut off as the stars shimmering dully in the fading night sky.

  As much as he dared, he accelerated around the winding curves. It would do no one any good if he wrecked. It’d be daylight soon. If he didn’t find Amber at the college, he’d retrace the country road. But what should he look for?

  Broken branches? A damaged railing? Signs that a vehicle had plunged into a chasm.

  Don’t go there.

  Gripping the handlebars of the bike, his knuckles turned white. As he pressed on, wisps of light streaked the horizon.

  And like a film reel, those carefree, happy days in high school replayed in his mind. The Fabulous Four—Matt, Amber, Amber’s best friend, Callie, and himself. The summer rafting expeditions. Football games.

  Yet one image dominated his memories. A seemingly insignificant moment. A beautiful spring day. Amber and Callie had been sixteen. The four of them had hiked to a nearby meadow for a picnic.

  Birdsong had called Matt and Callie away toward the gurgling melody of the fast-flowing river. Lounging at the foot of a tree, at the sound of Amber’s laugh he’d glanced up. In the grass on the edge of the quilt, she’d found a blue jay feather, its hue not dissimilar to the shade of her eyes.

  Sunlight streamed around her, lightening her hair. Causing it to glow. Tucking the feather behind his ear, she’d smiled at him.

  And that was what he remembered when he thought of Amber—sunshine, warmth and a sense of well-being. Happiness...

  “Where are you, Amber?” he whispered. “What’s happened to you?” The wind tore his words away.

  But he knew. Same as what happened to him. Life had changed his sunshine girl into a woman he barely recognized.

  Heart pounding, he veered into the college campus. Please let her be okay. Please let her—

  Under the security light in the parking lot, he spotted what qualified as an old clunker.

  Veering into the empty space alongside the lone vehicle, he hopped off his bike. He dashed over. The glare of the streetlight silhouetted a single figure inside the car.

  He tried the handle. Locked. “Amber?” He pressed his face to the window.

  Was she okay? Leaning against the headrest, she appeared asleep, but frightened by her stillness, he rapped on the glass.

  Bolting upright, her arms flailed. She grabbed for the steering wheel.

  “Can you hear me, Amber?”

  She whipped around at the sound of his voice. Forehead furrowed, she shrank into the seat. He was disconcerted by the stark fear in her eyes.

  Ah. The helmet. Ripping it off, he held it under his arm and backed off a step. “It’s me.”

  Recognition dawned in those beautiful eyes of hers. “Ethan?” Her breath fogged the window. “What are you—”

  He motioned.

  Springing the lock, she thrust open the door. “Where am I?” Gulping, she glanced around.

  Disliking looming over her, he crouched in the opening, afraid to touch her. Afraid to further startle her.

  Her gaze darted from the darkened building to his motorcycle. Checking her wristwatch, she sucked in a breath. Panic flitted across her face. “I’m supposed to be at the Jar. The girls—”

  “GeorgeAnne’s with them. She and Grandma sent me to find you.”

  Her lower lip quivered. “I spent the entire night in my car?” Tears like dewdrops trembled on the edges of her lashes. “My girls must be so worried. So—”

  “Slow down, Amber. They were asleep when Grandma called. They probably don’t even know you aren’t there.”

  “I was supposed to take the girls to Before School Care. I’m already late. I can’t afford to lose this job...”

  The desperation in her voice hit him like a blow to the chest. “Do you feel unwell? Did you have car trouble?”

  She shook her head. Like corn silk, her hair glistened in the glow of the streetlamp. “I remember thinking I’d just close my eyes for a second—” She reached for the key chain dangling from the ignition.

  Amber cranked the key, but the motor didn’t turn over.

  Rising, his knees creaked. “Turn on the cab light.”

  “Why?” But she flicked the switch on the domed light above her head.

  Nothing happened. Just as he’d suspected.

  “Maybe the bulb’s burned out.”

  He rested his forearms against the door frame. “The battery’s dead, Amber.”

  She tried starting the engine again. “It can’t be dead. Give me a minute.”

  He shook his head. “The car’s dead. Come on, I’ll take you back to Truelove.”

  “I don’t need your help. I can drive myself.”

  So stubborn. So obstinate. So aggravating.

  Wait, hadn’t Grandma said the same about him yesterday?

  “Your car will have to be towed.”

  Her mouth went mulish. “I can’t afford a tow truck.” Then her shoulders sagged. “I’ve failed my children so much.”

  Bands of pink and gold brightened the sky.

  “Give yourself a break, Amber. Working full-time, going to school at night. Single parenting. Something’s got to give. You aren’t Superwoman.”

  She stared through the windshield. “I’m not a super anything.”

  It absolutely killed him to hear her talk like that about herself. And reverting to form, when he couldn’t fix something, he got angry.

  “Get out of the car. I’m taking you home.”

  Her expression turned furious. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Ethan Green.”

  Widening his stance, he crossed his arms over his jacket. “Unless you want to miss your entire shift, I suggest you chuck that boulder-sized pride of yours and get on my Harley.”

  If looks could kill, he figured he would be struck stone dead on the spot.

  “Suit yourself—sit here all day...” Feigning nonchalance, he raised his palms. “Or after I drop you off, I could install a new battery for you.”

  Amber jutted her chin. “Seeing as you are so eager to leave Truelove in the dust again, I couldn’t ask you to
do that for me.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering. It’s what friends do for each other.” He cocked his head. “We’ve always been friends. Or had you forgotten?”

  She gave him an inscrutable look. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  Guilt pricked his conscience. He should have kept in touch. But he’d been determined to put his own bad memories behind him when he joined the Corps. Amber had been unintentionally jettisoned, too. Collateral damage.

  Yet if there was anything from his broken childhood he would’ve wanted to carry with him, it would have been those wonderful times with the Flemings. They’d been good to him. Embracing him like one of their own.

  When he’d been seven, his dad had abandoned him and his mom, and they’d lived with his grandparents. Later when his mom moved away into a new life, Grandma had offered to let him stay with her so he could finish high school with his friends. It was a pattern with his grandmother. Maybe that was why she was trying so hard to help Amber finish her schooling.

  “Grandma’s still at the hospital. I can’t leave today, anyway. A few more days in Truelove won’t matter.”

  The corners of Amber’s lovely mouth pulled downward. “I guess it won’t.”

  He stepped aside. “Grandma will relish having another chance to give me what for.”

  Slinging a backpack over her shoulder, Amber eased out of the car. “Your grandmother adores you. That’s why she’s so tough on you.”

  He took the backpack. “So we’re good? You and me?”

  Their gazes locked. Something tightened in his chest when she didn’t answer right away. Finally—

  Her lashes lowered, sweeping her cheeks. “We’re good, Ethan.”

  But clicking the fob to lock the car, she gave him a nice view of her back.

  * * *

  To say that having fallen asleep in her car was an embarrassment would have been an understatement. That Ethan had been the one to find her was a complete humiliation.

  And to have to depend on him—on any man—was merely the latest tier on a cake of mortification she’d been building since Tony proved her father right about everything.

  In two months, she would earn her nursing license. Over the last year and a half, she’d consoled herself with the thought of getting a good-paying job. Showing her father how wrong he’d been. Standing on her own two feet.

  But everything had been contingent on finishing nursing school. After yesterday, it was a goal that had dissipated as quickly as morning mist over the mountains.

  Amber shot a surreptitious look at Ethan typing into his cell. Her girls depended on her to make a better life for them. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let them down. No matter what it took. No matter if, in the process, she half killed herself.

  She shuddered, recalling other late nights over the winter where she’d almost fallen asleep at the wheel. Driving the treacherous mountain roads, oftentimes through whiteout conditions. Several times she’d come close to losing control of the car. And then what would’ve become of her children?

  Putting away his phone, Ethan stowed her backpack in a compartment on the motorcycle. “I texted Grandma. Explained what happened. Told her we’re on our way to Truelove.”

  Amber nodded.

  “I’m glad you have a jacket.” He climbed on the bike. “Doesn’t feel like spring yet.”

  Strapping on the extra helmet, she took the seat behind him. “I’m ready.”

  “Hold on,” he yelled above the roar of the engine.

  Biting her lip, she locked her arms around his waist. And they were off.

  Last fall, after Callie and Jake got married, Miss ErmaJean had offered—insisted—on taking the girls to school each morning while Amber reported for the early-morning shift at the diner. ErmaJean had also cared for Lucy and Stella the two evenings a week Amber attended class. And each weekend during Amber’s clinicals.

  But Miss ErmaJean was an old woman. Lucy and Stella weren’t her responsibility. If anything ever happened to Amber, her brother, Matt, would be their guardian. Yet he was often unreachable for weeks at a time on a classified mission. As for her father?

  The glossy, evergreen leaves of rhododendron flashed by on either side of the mountain road. Wind whipped her hair across her eyes. The early-morning chill stung her cheeks.

  Her father had never met the twins.

  She pressed her face into Ethan’s buttery soft, brown leather jacket.

  You make your bed hard, you can lie in it. That’s what her father had said when she told him she was going to marry Tony. It had been the biggest mistake of her life. And lying in that hard bed was what she’d been doing ever since.

  At the crossroads on the outskirts of Truelove, Ethan slowed. The decibel level of the motor lessened measurably. “Where do you live?”

  When he saw where she was living, it would be the final indignity.

  Following her directions, he turned onto a secondary road. Midway up the mountain at the third gravel driveway, he pulled in beside Miss GeorgeAnne’s sturdy pickup truck and cut the engine.

  He did a quick scan of her dilapidated trailer.

  She clenched her teeth. “This is all I can afford.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Letting go of him, she stepped onto the ground. “You didn’t have to say anything.”

  To her dismay, he hopped off, too. Retrieving her pack, he followed her to the porch steps.

  She reached for her backpack. “You don’t have to—”

  The railing wobbled under his hand. He looked at her again. And refused to surrender the pack.

  She chewed her lip, wishing the yard would swallow her. But no chance of that. She headed up the steps to the door. The porch landing shook under his weight, and he muttered something under his breath.

  GeorgeAnne flung open the door. “I was so worried. I didn’t know what else to do but get ErmaJean to call Ethan. I figured you wouldn’t want me to call your—”

  “It’s okay, Miss GeorgeAnne. I’m so, so sorry you had to spend the night here with the girls.”

  GeorgeAnne’s gaze flicked to Ethan. “Staying with Lucy and Stella is no trouble.”

  Ducking his head, he stepped inside the low-ceilinged living room.

  Amber did a slow three-sixty on the worn carpet. “Where are the girls?”

  GeorgeAnne patted her shoulder. “Haven’t stirred since I put them to bed last night. They’ll be awake soon and find their mommy waiting to wish them a good day at school.”

  Amber pinched her lips together. “The manager at the Jar isn’t the most understanding of men. He’s probably sacked me.”

  GeorgeAnne pushed her wire-frame glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “The girls and I put an emergency plan in motion until you can get to the diner.”

  Ethan leaned the long length of himself against a kitchen cabinet. “You and the twins put a plan in motion?”

  Amber prayed the cabinet didn’t give way under him. Most things in the trailer were held together with little more than duct tape and prayer. “Miss GeorgeAnne means her girls.”

  His eyes widened. “The matchmakers?”

  GeorgeAnne looked down her long nose at him. “We had a conference call this morning about Amber’s situation.”

  “A conference call.” He eyed the older lady. “Seriously?”

  “Your generation does not have the market cornered on technology or intelligence. Don’t forget, it was my generation that sent a man to the moon.” She jabbed her finger in his chest.

  He winced. “Ow, Miss GeorgeAnne—”

  “And invented computers, which your generation can’t pull your head out from.” She jabbed him again. “Did the Marines teach you nothing? Stand up straight, young man.”

  He straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pushing him asid
e, GeorgeAnne opened the cabinet. “IdaLee has the diner under control. She said not to rush. To get there when you can.”

  Amber’s mouth fell open.

  GeorgeAnne removed several coffee mugs from the cabinet. “Her nephew-in-law is the manager.”

  Amber slow-blinked. Twice. “Miss IdaLee is waitressing in my place at the Jar this morning?”

  Ethan hooted. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

  GeorgeAnne shot him a reproving glance, but her lips twitched. “You could, except ErmaJean texted she wants to talk with you ASAP. I’ll take Amber to work.” His grandmother’s lifelong friend lumbered over to the coffee maker sitting on the chipped linoleum countertop. “After she has a chance to shower and change clothes.”

  Amber frowned. “I should just go. Now.”

  “I believe we’ve both received our marching orders.” Ethan smirked. “Best not cross Miss GeorgeAnne and the girls.”

  GeorgeAnne shooed Amber out of the kitchen. “I’ll get the twins to school this morning, too.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve...” Amber worried her lip with her teeth. “I promise nothing like this will ever happen again, Miss GeorgeAnne. I’m so sorry—”

  “Stop with the apologizing,” Ethan growled.

  Her eyes welled. Angry with herself, she swiped at the tears with her hand.

  Ethan’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to...”

  “It’s okay.” She was going to lose it in front of him if she didn’t put distance between them right this minute. “It’s just the both of you—your kindness...”

  Before she fractured completely, she fled down the hall to her bedroom. Shutting the door on the man who’d once been her fondest adolescent dream. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the door. Steeling herself to what could never be.

  Perhaps the saddest words of all.

  Chapter Three

  After Amber disappeared down the hall, Ethan rounded on GeorgeAnne. “Why does kindness make Amber cry?”