Lost and Found

Chapter Three

Oh, why had she said that? The words had emerged shaky and pathetic from her mouth. She wanted to talk about it, wished it was Derek sitting there so they could get this out in the open and deal with it. She could talk to Nate about it. But what if Derek didn’t want Nate to know?

It wasn’t a failure on Derek’s part, but he’d see it that way. It shouldn’t be humiliating, but she knew Derek felt it was.

They should have been prepared for the news Dr. Edgar had given them. Lord knows, they’d had enough time to think about it, worry about it. Hearing it should not have been such a shock.

But having your worst fears confirmed was always a shock.

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Derek. I wish I knew where he was.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah.” She’d been carrying such a load of guilt around for so long. Their problems were all her fault. Derek made that pretty clear to her every damn day. Maybe that’s why this was so difficult for him. Maybe he’d never really believed the problem could be his, not hers. Maybe he was never coming back.

She put her hands over her face.

“Hey, hey.” The couch dipped beneath her as Nate moved toward her, then his arm went around her shoulders and he pulled her into him. His arms were stiff and awkward, as if he hadn’t done such a thing for a long time.

She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling the scent of his cotton T-shirt and warm musky male. His body relaxed a little, and his arms around her felt strong and comforting. One hand cupped the back of her head, then stroked down over her hair. The tenderness of the gesture caused more tears to flood her eyes. She sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what it is, but if Nate’s done anything to hurt you, I swear I’ll kill the son of a bitch.” Nate’s fierce defense of her made something inside her expand and burst. She tried to restrain the sobs, but ended up blubbering in Nate’s arms.

He held her, pressed her head to his chest and let her cry her heart out. All the tension, the worry, the fear built up in her over the last few months coalesced into a shirt-soaking deluge of tears.

“He hasn’t done anything,” she sobbed.

“Okay.”

His hand stroked her hair, slowly, mesmerizingly, soothing her ragged nerves until her sobbing eased, leaving her quivering and hiccupping for breath.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled into his chest. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “It’s okay, bunny.”

The old nickname, coming from all her job hopping, touched something deep inside her, deep and warm. He continued to stroke her hair and rub his hand up and down her back. She became aware that the thin cotton of her tank top was a flimsy barrier between her skin and Nate’s warm hand. But it felt so good, so comforting.

“I’ll wait up with you for him,” he murmured, and he pressed his face against the top of her head.

“Thank you.”

They stayed like that, and she took solace in his embrace. They talked about inconsequential things—the house, the weather, mutual friends—while the flickering fire cast a spell and emotional exhaustion took its toll. Krissa fell asleep in Nate’s arms.

A crashing woke her up.

Krissa lifted her head. Where was she? A man’s hard body was beneath her, his strong arms around her. What was that noise?

Some scuffling, another bang and then Derek’s slurred voice from across the room. “Hey. What’sh going on here?”

If that was Derek standing in the kitchen, who was…oh, yeah. Nate. Krissa struggled to sit up, pushing her hair out of her face, while Nate released her and rubbed his eyes.

“Derek.” She sat on the couch, hands on the cushion on either side of her hips as she leaned forward, struggled to focus on him in the dark. “Where were you?”

His shirt was rumpled, tie gone, collar unbuttoned. His suit jacket lay on the floor in a heap with his shoes. His blond hair stood up and he stared at them with blurry eyes.

He took two unsteady steps forward. His brows drew together. “Nate?”

“Yeah, Nate.” Gathering her sleepy wits, she stood up. “You’re drunk, you idiot. Nate is here, remember? You were supposed to pick him up at the airport?”

Derek stared in confusion at his old friend. Nate pushed a hand through his hair and stood up, too. “Hey, man. Good to see you.”

Nate moved over to Derek to give him a masculine hug and slap on the back. Derek returned it but still seemed disoriented. “I forgot you were coming, bud.”

“Yeah, you and Krissa both. Good to know I’m so memorable.”

Derek swayed on his feet.

“Looks like you’ve been having a good time.” Nate’s voice hardened. “Have a seat, man.”

He pushed Derek down to the couch and he went down easily, almost falling.

Krissa wrapped her arms around herself. The room was very warm from the fireplace that had been going for the last few hours, but a chill stroked over her skin. She glanced at her watch. “Derek, it’s two in the morning, for God’s sake. Where the hell have you been?”

He gazed back at her bleary-eyed, sadness not obliterated by intoxication. “I’m sorry, Krissa.”

She rolled her lips in, sank her teeth into the top lip. She closed her eyes, and turned away, her chest tightening.

“Sorry to you too, Nate,” Derek said. “I totally forgot.” He sighed.

“Don’t worry about me,” Nate said. “But Krissa was worried about you, man. Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re sober.”

Derek scrubbed his hands over his face, sagged back into the couch, and blinked at them. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.” He focused on Krissa. “Sorry I didn’t call, baby.”

She shook her head, trying to keep her anger going in the face of his apology. He was not going to get off that easy, this time.

Nate looked at Krissa. “Want me to help get him to bed?”

“I can get to bed.” Derek stood, wavering.

“Sure, buddy. Come on.” Without waiting for Krissa, Nate led Derek up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Krista followed. “My assistance stops at helping you undress,” he told Derek, his mouth quirking at the corners.

“I’ll do that,” Krissa said.

Their eyes met. “Okay. Good night, Krissa.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Her voice was low. He disappeared, shutting their bedroom door behind him.

Krissa turned. Derek had fallen onto the bed, asleep. Or passed out more likely, still fully clothed.

She went into the adjoining bathroom, the brightness of the light stinging her eyes when she turned it on. She stared at herself in the mirror that covered one wall. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes swollen from crying, mascara smeared under them. Oh lord, she looked atrocious. Derek hadn’t likely noticed in the condition he was in, but Nate probably had. Then again, they’d been in the dark.

She brushed her teeth and washed her face, changed into the nightie hanging on the back of the door. She flicked off the light and returned to the bedroom.

The rumble of Derek’s snoring and the odor of alcohol, cigarettes and perfume that wasn’t hers permeated the room. Krissa stared at him, lips pressed together, her stomach in a tight knot. Then she left their bedroom, shutting the door behind her and went to sleep in one of the other rooms.

He’d walked into quite the mess.

Maybe it had been a bad decision coming to stay with Krissa and Derek. Things seemed to be a tad unsettled.

Nate stood in the shower in the bathroom attached to his room. Derek and Krissa had moved into a big enough house, considering there was just the two of them. It worked out well for him. He had his own little suite here, with a huge bedroom and attached bath. In a house this size, he could stay out of their way and they’d never have to know he was there. Probably a good thing, especially considering the discussion they were likely to be having this morning.

That was putting it mildly. Derek was out getting hammered while Krissa cried her eyes out at home. Uh, yeah, just your typical marriage.

What the hell did he know about typical marriages? He’d thought his own marriage was perfect. What a fucking idiot he’d been. Ah, well. That’d been a long time ago. Another life.

The only good thing about this upheaval was, it had taken his mind off his own problems.

He grinned as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair. He didn’t envy Derek right then. The guy was going to be majorly hungover and Krissa was going to be pissed beyond belief. He was surprised he didn’t hear the yelling all the way into the shower.

When Nate was dressed he followed the smell of rich coffee down the hall. Someone was up. As he passed by a bedroom he noticed through the open door the bed with the covers turned back and rumpled as though someone had slept there.

Had Krissa spent the night in a bed apart from her husband?

Kinda looked like it.

Krissa sat in the kitchen at the counter, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Sunlight streamed in through all the windows and Nate slid on his sunglasses, his eyes burning. Damn it.

“Hey,” he said. “I smell coffee.”

She looked up at him, eyes wary and guarded. Even with shadowed green eyes and a soft, sad mouth, her beauty tugged at something inside him. She wore no makeup and he could see the faint sprinkling of freckles across the fair skin of her nose and cheeks.

She slid off the stool. “I’ll get you some.”

Nate held up a hand. “No, I’ll get it. You don’t need to wait on me. Just point me in the direction of a cup.”

“In the cupboard right above the dishwasher.” She sat down again.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Derek already gone?”

She snorted. “He’s still sleeping.” She shook her head, dark hair sliding over her shoulders in a silky curtain.

“Ah.” Nate sipped the coffee and sat, too. “I guess when you’re self-employed you can do that.”

“He could be missing appointments, I don’t know.” The corners of Krissa’s mouth turned down. “But if he is, he’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Yup.” Silence expanded in the bright kitchen.

“I’m sorry you walked into this,” Krissa said finally. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on.”

Hell, yeah. But he wasn’t going to pry. Derek was his best buddy, and he’d always liked and respected Krissa. If they were having problems, that was their business. Best to just stay out of it.

“Things have been a little stressful lately,” she continued, and her top teeth sank into her lush lower lip. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t need this when you have problems of your own to deal with.”

He shrugged, sipped his coffee. Its heat stung, and he held the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I guess I picked a bad time to barge in on you. You probably don’t need someone else hanging around right now.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I know Derek wanted you to come here too, to recover. We’d do anything to help you, you know that.”

“What about you?”

Her dark brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“Is there anything I can do to help you guys?”

Their eyes met and held. He shifted on his stool. Felt exposed.

“No,” Krissa said at last. Her eyes dropped. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Okay. Just remember, though. Anything. You two are my best friends.”

“I know.” He watched pain and sorrow shift across her face.

“You’re both up already?”

They both turned at the sound of Derek’s raspy voice in the door of the kitchen. He was dressed in a pair of boxer shorts riding low on his hipbones. His blond hair stuck up in all directions and he rubbed his face as he yawned.

“Already? It’s nine-thirty,” Krissa said. “You’re usually at the office by seven.” She slipped off her stool and went over to the coffeemaker. She poured a cup and walked to Derek, handed it to him.

Their eyes met as he accepted the mug from her. Nate watched the two of them as they communicated wordlessly. Derek slid his hand around the back of Krissa’s neck, under her hair, and pulled her toward him. Slowly, she pressed her face into the side of his neck and Derek laid his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. They stood that way for a long moment.

Nate wanted to look away. But his eyes remained fastened on them. The intimacy of the moment made something clench down low inside him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered. Krissa drew back, nodded and stepped away. Her glance skittered over to Nate, then away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, and disappeared.

Nate studied everything in the kitchen while Derek set his coffee on the counter and took a seat on a stool.

“Where were you last night?”

Derek sighed. “Out getting wasted. Wasn’t it obvious?”

“It was obvious you smelled like perfume when you walked in. Perfume and the stink of booze.” Nate squinted at his friend from behind the dark glasses. “Were you with another woman?”