“I know they’re in touch. But only occasionally. They still have bills to pay and responsibilities to tend to. For now no one else knows that Chloe’s left him.”

“He called her four times in two hours yesterday. I made it a point to be busy in the kitchen this morning and witnessed three calls myself.”

Ella and Chloe had played cards last night after Cody went to bed. Her sister-in-law hadn’t said a word about speaking to Jeff.

“You’re sure it was Jeff?”

“Positive. She called him by name the first time. And ended all three conversations with ‘I love you, too, babe.’”

Babe. Chloe had always called Jeff that. A term of endearment Ella had always liked.

She didn’t now.

Chloe was lying to her. Not uncommon in domestic-violence situations, but still, Ella was hurt.

“Did she seem upset?”

“From what one of the other girls said, he seemed to be trying to find out where she was. Which was why their alarm bells first went off.”

Brett had said he’d talk to Jeff. Tell him that he’d seen Chloe and that she was fine. Hadn’t he done so?

She’d assumed he had. He always did what he said he was going to do. But it wasn’t as though he reported in to her. Brett Ackerman hadn’t been all that great about sharing even during the last couple years they’d been married. She knew better than to expect it of him now.

“Did she tell him?”

“No.” Sara’s glance was warm and filled with compassion. “I made certain of that much. And the last time he called, I heard her chuckle before she hung up.”

Jeff was charming her. Or was he keeping her mentally enslaved?

Ella hated that she could even think such things about her brother.

But it was for his own good. She was trying desperately to save Jeff from himself. From a future that could kill him. If it didn’t kill someone else first.

“I have no idea what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Sara said, taking her keys in hand. “Chloe’s an adult. She’s taken the first step—coming to stay with you. Feeling her way. Finding out who she is with Jeff, and apart from him. If you push too hard, you might just push her away.”

“So you aren’t worried about the calls?”

“I’m concerned. I’m planning to try to engage her in a serious conversation, get her into counseling if she’s ready to go that far. And I wanted you to know so you could be aware.”

Standing as Sara did, Ella thanked the other woman. Agreed to stay in close contact. And felt as though she’d gained a hundred pounds in an hour as she walked slowly to her car.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ELLA HAD INTENDED to go straight home after the meeting. Chloe was spending the entire day at the Stand to oversee the dinner hour, which meant Ella would have a little time to herself in her apartment.

As much as she loved Chloe and Cody, as adamant as she was about wanting them with her, she’d been living alone for a long time and had been looking forward to having some space for a few hours. To be able to talk out loud to herself if she wanted to. Or sing off tune.

But home spoke of Chloe, too. Chloe’s and Cody’s things were scattered around the apartment. Reminders everywhere of the problems they faced.

Ella had a potential new house to drive by. A for-sale option Chloe had found on the internet the afternoon before and suggested she look at. She’d taken the address with her when she’d left the house that morning.

And didn’t get it out of her purse.

Just as she didn’t think about where she was going when she turned on her car. Didn’t consider options, or ask herself what she should do. Didn’t give herself a chance to object.

Putting her car in Drive, she pulled out of the police-station parking lot and headed straight to Brett’s place.

To share the burden of Jeff and Chloe’s situation with him.

Because she wasn’t like him. She asked for help when she needed it.

* * *

HIS BAG WAS packed, by the door, and he was ready to catch a flight later that night. With a pool towel in hand, Brett was walking naked through his living room when he heard the front bell ring.

It wasn’t a common occurrence. His place was set back from the road, and labeled with no-trespassing signs, so he didn’t get door-to-door salespeople, or religious advocates knocking on his door. He hardly knew his neighbors. And the rest of his life was run by someone who refused to see him.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went to investigate. He saw her car first. And then, through the peephole, Ella, in street clothes, her dark hair curling around her shoulders, looking...good.

Too good.

He considered pretending he was already out back in his enclosed backyard, under water in the pool. Considered turning his back, walking outside and diving in. She’d have no way of getting his attention.

And even as he considered doing so, he pulled open the door. If he thought he had to avoid her, they had a problem.

“Oh!”

Whatever words had been on her lips, ready to be delivered, didn’t make it past her open mouth as she stared at him.

“I...I’m sorry...” She was backing away, one step at a time. “I didn’t realize...”

Intrigued, a bit turned on and not unhappy to see her, Brett switched gears when it occurred to him how the situation might look, from out on the porch, looking in.

Not yet dinnertime. Him clearly naked beneath his towel...

She could easily assume he had a woman inside.

“It’s not what you think...” He spoke quickly, before she turned tail and ran. When he and Ella had lived together, they’d made love before dinner on a regular basis. They’d been apart all day. And were hungry.

“I should have called,” she said, awkwardly looking around—everywhere but at him.

“Probably,” he allowed. “But more because your chances of catching me at home are slim.”

Yet she had.

“I was just going for a swim. You want to join me?”

The question was uncharacteristic. As was the fact that he’d uttered it without forethought. Uncharacteristic to the man he’d become.

Not uncharacteristic to the much younger man who’d once been married to this woman. She’d always had a strong effect on him. And instead of dissipating, it had only grown stronger the longer they were together. Most particularly as he watched her put herself through procedure after procedure because she’d so badly wanted to bring their child into the world, and then try to comfort him after every disappointment. He’d been strangely detached himself, to the news of no baby, but each time, he’d grown more and more invested in her disappointment. He couldn’t make her happy. The conception challenges were hers. They’d had tests. She suffered from a hormonal imbalance that rid her body of fertilized eggs before they could implant. He didn’t have to feel guilty about not being able to give her a child. No, his unease was much more selfish, much more like something his father would have felt. He’d hated that she’d had to have a baby to be happy.

He’d hated the fact that he wasn’t enough for her.

He’d fought the intensity. Keeping himself in check as he’d learned to do. Preventing any chance that he’d do something unforgivable.

And he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. Day after day after day. Because of the baby they couldn’t conceive, he’d told himself. But he’d known that his distance was hurting her, too. He just hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

“I don’t have a suit.”

She hadn’t said no. She’d made an excuse. Wasn’t going to swim with him. But she hadn’t said no.

The distinction counted.

It shouldn’t.

“Although a swim sounds good.” The words came slowly. Hesitantly. As though she reserved the right to take each one back as she uttered it.

She was looking at him now. At his chest. He could almost feel her reaching out to him, running her fingers through his chest hair, pausing to tease his nipples, as she’d done so many times in the past.