Free The Reckoning by Christie Ridgway

vision of him popped into Linda’s head. He’d looked dark and sleek when she’d stumbled, sleep stupored, into the kitchen two mornings ago. His still damp hair had been brushed back from his forehead and he’d been wearing that dark, forbidding expression that appeared to be his habit. But she’d made him smile, and later…later…
    â€œLinda?”
    She started, her gaze jumping back to Nan’s face. “What?”
    â€œI asked about Emmett and you seemed to lose your train of thought.”
    Linda felt the heat of embarrassment climb her cheeks. The train had been about to travel into dangerous, distracting territory. Another lingering symptom of brain injury was that her concentration could easily wander. “Emmett’s fine,” she said, focusing on Nan’s gentle blue eyes. “He took me grocery shopping on Friday and then to meet Ricky after school.”
    â€œI heard about that,” Nan said, reaching out to pat Linda’s forearm. “I told your son he should have let you give him a ride home.”
    Your son. Her son. Ricky. She had to get better for him. She had to learn how to be a strong, whole person because her son was her responsibility.
    If not her love.
    That traitorous thought whispered through her brain, and she couldn’t squelch it. Loving Ricky would come in time, just as relearning to make coffee, relearning to drive and all the other things she had to do would come back, now that she was awake and out of rehab.
    They would all come back…wouldn’t they? Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she looked away to hide them from the older woman.
    â€œLinda dear—”
    Whatever Nancy was about to say was interrupted by the cook, who entered the room carrying a tray with two steaming soup bowls. It gave Linda time to gather her composure. Eating the delicious chicken tortilla soup gave her a boost of optimism that only homemade soup could provide.
    Several spoonfuls later, she smiled across the table at Nancy. “And how have you been? Isn’t tomorrow your bridge day?”
    â€œNo, that’s Wednesday. Tomorrow’s Tuesday, when I volunteer in Ricky’s classroom.” Nan looked down at her bowl, hesitated. “Would you…”
    No. She was going to ask Linda to accompany her. She was going to ask Linda to play mother at Ricky’s school. Hadn’t she already failed at that on Friday? Change the subject, avoid the request, she thought in desperation. “What do you know about Emmett?”
    â€œEmmett?”
    Once again, his name sent Linda’s mind on another detour. Emmett had kissed her in the kitchen. It was another kindness, a comfort, some human-to-human contact. That was all. But it felt like so much more to her. His hard mouth against hers had sent prickles at a run over her chin and down her neck. Prickles that tightened her nipples, that then turned to tingles that slid down and between her thighs.
    Her knees had gone as soft as her head.
    Then she’d experienced what they called in rehab a “flood,” when she found herself awash in her emotions. And just thinking about that kiss made her experience it all over again—her thoughts, her actions, her language skills overwhelmed by the temptation and tenderness in that one, simple, lip-to-lip lock.
    â€œLinda?”
    She jerked her gaze to Nan’s once again. Cover, cover, cover, she reminded herself. Don’t let her see how far from whole you still are.
    Marshaling her wits and her composure, she pasted on a smile. “Sorry. As I was saying, what do you know about—” Not Emmett again! “—Emmett’s brother. Emmett’s brother, Jason.”
    â€œJason.” Nan frowned. “Why are you asking about him?”
    Because he seems like a safe enough topic. Certainly saferthan Ricky or Emmett himself. “He came up in conversation with Emmett. I recall he was the one who