Mendoza's Return. Susan Crosby

been hearing for a long time how the best man hooks up with the maid of honor at these things. You’re real pretty, Melina. I think I’m okay looking myself. So, why not go for it? Your age doesn’t matter to me, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

      She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m honored, Jay, truly I am. But the answer’s the same.” Between his comments and Stephanie’s at the wedding, Melina felt ancient. “It’s sweet of you to ask, though.”

      “No harm in it,” he said, appeased.

      They didn’t have much to say after that. He dropped her off at her townhouse, and she was grateful to plop onto her sofa and close her eyes, relishing the peace and quiet now that her duties were over. But soon the pull began—the memories of days gone by, the should’ves and could’ves.

      She dragged out two cartons from the back of her storage closet, untouched for years. She had thrown away a lot of the things Rafe had given her—a stuffed armadillo, dried corsages and a half-used bottle of perfume she couldn’t bear to wear again—but she hadn’t been able to part with the yearbooks and scrapbooks.

      Or the gold locket he’d given her after they’d made love for the first time.

      Melina ignored the tiny jewel box lodged in the corner of the carton until after she’d skimmed through the books, afraid to take a deeper look. Almost every personal note in her yearbooks was a comment on her and Rafe as a couple and their future together. She’d almost forgotten how much like one they’d been. Their mutual plan to become lawyers working for the greater good had been shattered before the end of their freshman year at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

      Michigan had been a long way from home for a couple of born-and-raised Texans, but they’d had each other—until her Grandma Rose had a stroke and Melina’s world had spun on its axis….

      All her life Melina had adored her grandma. Being clear up in Michigan while Rose had been hospitalized had been hard, but when Rose had been sent home barely able to walk or talk, it had been excruciating for Melina. She couldn’t focus on college when her beloved Rose was struggling, so when the Christmas break came, Melina used the weeks to help her grandparents, then made the decision not to return to Ann Arbor for the time being.

      Rafe hadn’t understood. Melina stood her ground. And their relationship began to unravel slowly, steadily. While Melina was immersed in caring for her grandmother and comforting her suddenly vulnerable grandfather, Rafe was experiencing the new freedom of college. She’d gone the opposite direction, locking herself into the role of caregiver, giving up her freedom, not regretting it at all.

      Except that she’d resented Rafe’s freedom, even though it had been her choice to help her grandparents.

      And then came the letter from him, ending the relationship, securing her new role in life. She hadn’t known how to fix it, so she hadn’t tried….

      She blinked away the memory. Finally she pushed up the lid of the small gray velvet box. The locket inside didn’t contain photographs but was inscribed with the words, “We’ve only just begun.”

      He’d given it to her in such a tender way, made her close her eyes and lift up her hair. She’d felt the brush of his fingertips against her neck, then his lips. Finally a kiss on her mouth, so soft, so loving, she’d cried. She’d buried the indelible moment deep, had built an impenetrable wall around it—until she’d seen him, looking handsome and successful and so very sexy.

      Melina snapped the lid shut, and with it, the memories. She tossed the box into the carton and stacked the rest of the items inside. Then right before she shoved the cartons into the closet, she pulled out their senior yearbook and tucked it under her arm.

      The only way she could move forward was to look back first.

      The next morning Melina looked up Rafe’s business address on the internet, mapped directions, then made the drive to downtown San Antonio. His office was on the fifth floor of a building overlooking the River Walk. She had to identify herself to the lobby security personnel and get permission from Rafe’s office before she was allowed up the elevator, so the element of surprise was gone by the time she reached his office, a richly appointed, incredibly quiet space of dark woods and leather.

      One of the things they’d promised each other all those years ago when they’d made the mutual decision to become lawyers was that their office wouldn’t be luxurious, that they wouldn’t have more than they needed to do the job. The building they’d picked out changed hands frequently, with long periods of vacancy between. As Rafe had noted at the reception, these days it looked ready for demolition.

      It had hurt when he’d said that so easily about their one-time dream house.

      Rafe’s attractive and curious assistant escorted Melina into Rafe’s office as soon as she arrived. He got up from his desk and came around it.

      “Thank you, Vonda,” he said as she closed the door on her way out. “This is a surprise.”

      Melina rarely got flustered, but being alone with him in his office, this tangible symbol of his success, stabbed at her. The last thing she needed was to be defensive or cool—or let her ego or pride get in the way. A little boy depended on her doing the right thing, saying the right thing.

      And yet frustration built inside her, a growing need to yell at him, to say what she hadn’t been allowed to all those years ago when he’d broken up with her—by letter. She’d made so many speeches to him in her head through the years.

      “Very nice,” she said, tamping down her emotions, moving around him to look out his window. She loved the River Walk, always had, no matter how many tourists roamed the area. His view was pretty but obstructed slightly by hotels and other tourist attractions.

      “What can I do for you, Melina?” he asked, having come up behind her.

      She moved away, not turning around to look at him until she could no longer feel the heat from his body, imagined or otherwise, radiating into her space. “Angie said you were willing to talk to me about a new patient my partner and I just took on.”

      Rafe indicated a leather sofa. “I don’t know that my answer will be any different,” he said as they sat at opposite ends. “But I thought I should know more.”

      “He’s a ten-year-old boy named Elliot Anderson, and he has Asperger’s syndrome.”

      “You’ll need to educate me about Asperger’s.”

      “It’s a form of autism spectrum disorder. They’re smart kids, and they can totally focus on something they have an interest in, but they have difficulties socially. They don’t tend to make eye contact and don’t know how to interpret expressions to understand how someone feels. It makes it hard for them to be part of a team, any kind of team, especially because they can be very direct.”

      “Okay.”

      The intensity of his unswerving eye contact made her stomach flutter. She wished he’d sat at his desk instead. “Elliot wants to play baseball,” she said. “His father has worked with him on hitting for several years. Apparently he’s exceptional.”

      “And he’s come up against resistance from the coaches, Angie said.”

      “One coach, not all of them. And ‘resistance’ is putting it mildly in this case. The Andersons moved to town after registration was closed for this season, but the league could make an exception if they wanted to, given that the family hadn’t moved in yet. Elliot and his parents showed up at a practice, hoping to talk one of the coaches into taking him on, but it didn’t go well.”

      “In what way?”

      “The coach was pushing the players hard, berating them, even ridiculing them. Elliot, who only knows how to comment honestly on what he observes, told the coach he was mean.”

      “Kids—and parents—often think a coach is mean,” Rafe said. “Did he know about Elliot’s condition?”

      “Not