by Brenda Novak
Her phone gave one short buzz, indicating a text message. She was so afraid it would be from him, and that it would be ugly, she was afraid to look at it.
But it wasn’t Axel. Karoline had just sent her a picture of the girls.
We’re at Universal Studios having a great time. Please don’t worry about anything!
As direct and no-nonsense as her sister could be, there really was no one with a better heart.
Thank you for being there for me, she wrote back. I’m done with Axel. Moving on.
For real?
Yes. It’s over. I don’t know what I’ve been hanging on to.
That’s my baby sister. Forget him. You’re going to be just fine on your own, Karoline texted back and added a smiley face for good measure.
Harper doubted her sister would be so happy if she knew exactly how this change of heart had finally come to pass.
* * *
After Tobias pulled into his driveway and parked, he didn’t immediately get out. He sat there, staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. He felt as though he’d just survived some kind of life-altering event, which was weird. He’d slept with a woman. So what? He didn’t think sex—even for a man like him who’d gone thirteen years without it—was supposed to leave him feeling shell-shocked.
But making love to Harper hadn’t been like making love to Tonya or the woman he’d picked up that one night in Santa Barbara. Those encounters had been enjoyable, of course, but he hadn’t been quite as vulnerable. He’d had to let down his defenses in order to get that intimate with Harper—being with her had somehow demanded it—and that had made it almost a transcendent experience.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and focused on his surroundings. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but there was nothing to be gained from wasting more time. Eventually, he’d forget about this morning—forget about her.
But he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“She told you from the beginning it couldn’t last,” he berated himself as he pulled the keys from the ignition. “What more did you expect?”
He’d expected four more days. Maybe that was the loss he was mourning.
He figured he’d shower and go over to Maddox’s house. Seeing Maddox, Jada and Maya should distract him from the funk he’d fallen into when Harper saw that she’d accidentally called her ex-husband. Jada would probably invite him to stay for dinner. Her best friend, Tiffany Martinez, might also be there. While he didn’t have any romantic interest in Tiffany, who was also single, he liked her a lot. And she seemed satisfied with being his friend, so he could feel comfortable around her. She was one of the first to be kind to him when he was released from prison, and he’d always have a soft spot in his heart for her.
He had his head down as he approached the back of his house, almost didn’t see Carl standing in the shadows. When he did, he came to an abrupt stop. He hadn’t bothered to lock his house when he left. He hardly ever locked his house. But his mountain bike was worth quite a bit—almost as much as his truck—so he should be more vigilant in the future, especially now that Carl was around. Tobias had the sneaking suspicion Carl had been snooping through his stuff. He’d noticed that Uriah’s truck was gone when he drove in, so there was no one keeping an eye on Carl. And there was something about Carl’s body language that made Tobias leery.
“What are you doing back here?” Tobias asked.
A dark glower descended on Carl’s face. “What do you mean? I own the place. I can go anywhere I want.”
But there was no reason for him to be loitering in the little area Tobias considered his yard. There was nothing of particular interest here and nothing that could be done for the trees in the orchard or the pixie tangerines that grew on them. “Your father owns the property, not you,” Tobias said. “And you can’t go anywhere you want. I’d better not ever find you inside my house.”
Carl puffed out his chest. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. You’re just the renter. From what my dad told me, you’re not even on a lease. That means he could kick you out at any time, as long as he gives you thirty days’ notice.”
Tobias clenched his jaw. “And your point is?”
“My point is you’d better find someplace else to live, because my dad built this house for me, and I plan on moving back in.”
Although Carl tried to stalk past Tobias, Tobias stepped in front of him and lowered his voice. “You need to watch yourself while you’re here.”
Carl’s eyes narrowed. “Or...”
“Your father’s getting old and frail. You can’t treat him the way you used to. It’s time to quit being such a dick and grow up.”
“Don’t try to pretend you’re better than me,” he said with a sneer.
Tobias leaned down to get right in his face. “I may not be better than you or anyone else, but if you ever hurt your father again, I’ll show you just how bad I can be.”
Carl flushed bright red. “How dare you!”
“It’s not an empty threat,” Tobias said and purposely knocked into his shoulder as he passed, causing Carl to stumble back.
When Carl called out his name, Tobias’s hands automatically curled into fists as he turned. After the past hour, he was looking for a target and the darker part of him, the part that was still as angry as he’d been as a teenager, hoped Carl would be it. “You got something more to say to me?”
Uriah’s son looked as though he had plenty to say, but when he saw Tobias’s expression and stance, he seemed to think twice. “You’d better start packing your bags,” he said but was careful to stay out of reach as he circled around Tobias and hurried toward the safety of the big farmhouse.
Tobias was just talking himself out of chasing the little bastard down when his phone went off. Too intent on watching Carl’s retreating back to answer it, he ignored the first few rings. But then he heaved a sigh and pulled his phone from his pocket.
It was Maddox.
Knowing his brother would advise him not to get into it with Carl, even if it was well deserved, he hit the talk button. “’Lo?”
“Tobias, I’m sorry to bother you again, especially if Harper’s still with you, but—”
“She’s gone,” he broke in. “You don’t have to worry about her.”
Maddox hesitated. “Everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked as though he didn’t feel like shit.
“You sound...on edge.”
Tobias let the door slam as he went into his house and started looking through everything to make sure none of his stuff had been disturbed. Fortunately, his bike, his TV, his backpack and everything else he really cared about was still there. “Carl’s doing whatever he can to piss me off,” he muttered. “That’s all.”
“Don’t tell me that douchebag’s causing trouble again.”
“Yes. No!” he quickly said, reversing his position. “It’s not what you think. Uriah’s fine. He’s not even home. Anyway, never mind. What’s going on?” It hadn’t been all that long since his brother had stopped by, so why was he calling?
“It’s Atticus.”
The tone of Maddox’s voice made Tobias uneasy. “And? What’s wrong?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
Forgetting about Carl, Tobias quickly switched the phone to his other ear. “Why? What’s happened?”
“We’re not entirely sure at this point. Susan got up and went to work this morning, but she needed him to watch the store while she drove over to Santa Barbara for some supplies. When she tried calling him she couldn’t get him to pick up, so she tried the neighbor, who went over to rouse him and found him unresponsive.”
“Unresponsive. What does that mean? He wasn’t breathing?”
“He was breathing, but he was unconscious.”
“And now?”
“Are you going over to the hospital?”
“I’m there now. Susan, Maya and Jada are up in the room with him, so I decided not to crowd in.”
He’d decided not to crowd in because his mother-in-law still blamed him for what Tobias had done thirteen years ago and wouldn’t speak to him. But Maddox rarely mentioned Susan and how she treated him. He knew Tobias felt bad enough. Maddox was just eleven months older, but he’d always tried to look out for Tobias. “Will you let me know if there’s an hour or so when everyone will be gone?”
“You’d like to come see him?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure. I’ll do what I can to get you a few minutes, but you’d better drive over to the hospital now, because if I can manage it, it’ll be a very small window. You know how protective Susan is.”
“I do.” He also knew that if she got wind of him being there, she’d do everything she could to drive him away. “I’m going to shower. Then I’ll be right over.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Thanks.” He was about to hang up when Maddox said, “Wait—you haven’t told me what’s going on between you and Harper Devlin.”
“There’s nothing going on,” he said.
“It sure looked like there was.”
“Looks can be deceiving. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”
There was a slight pause. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’ve already had an argument.”
It was much worse than an argument, which was why Tobias preferred not to talk about it. Also, he couldn’t imagine Harper would want anyone else to know, even his brother. “No argument. We’re just friends, anyway.”
“You’re saying you didn’t sleep with her?”
“Maddox, stop.”
“So you did sleep with her.”
“I’ve got to go...”
“Something’s happening between you two—”
“I’m hanging up now,” he said and disconnected.
10
Tobias hung out in the hospital lobby with Maddox until Jada and Maya came down. Then they all went to dinner. When they returned to the hospital, they were hoping Susan would be gone, but they could see her car in the parking lot.
“Maybe she’s going to stay all night,” Tobias complained.
“She can’t stay all night,” Jada said. “If she doesn’t get some sleep, her lupus might flare up again. She pushes herself too hard as it is. I worry about her—despite how she feels about me.” She touched his forearm. “Let me go see what’s going on.”
Maya decided to stay in the waiting room with them. They teased her about some of the boys she knew from New Horizons, and she joked right back, but Tobias guessed she felt the tension. She was close to her grandmother, helped out at Sugar Mama all the time, but she loved them, too, which was why she hadn’t gone back up to Atticus’s room when Jada did. Her grandmother hated them so much it made her defensive. No doubt Maya was staying in case Susan came down and saw them; she knew Susan would be less likely to make a scene if she was there.
When Jada returned, she looked relieved. “He’s doing better,” she said. “The doctors are saying he must’ve hit his head in the accident, because his brain is bruised. But he’s going to be okay, so my mother should feel reassured enough to leave soon.” She looked at Tobias. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long. Would you rather go home and try again tomorrow night?”
“No, I’ll wait.” He didn’t have anything better to do. If he went home he’d just start thinking about Harper—or maybe he’d kick Carl’s ass, which would provide an outlet for the anger, frustration and concern that was roiling around inside him but certainly wouldn’t improve his reputation in Silver Springs.
Maddox and Jada left around nine. They had to take Maya home; she had school in the morning. Tobias considered leaving when they did. He didn’t want to confront Susan on his own, but he also refused to be that big of a coward.
He hung out for two more hours before deciding to give up. It was getting late, and he had to work in the morning. He’d just stood up to get the keys out of his pocket when he heard the ding of the elevator around the corner.
Sitting down as fast as possible, he lifted a magazine to cover his face, just in case, and, sure enough, when he peeked around the edges, he saw Susan pass by.
Fortunately, she didn’t so much as glance his way. She stared straight ahead as she moved tiredly toward the exit.
“Finally,” he muttered when she was gone. He was the only one left in the waiting room. He’d been afraid that even with a magazine covering his face, she’d recognize him. No doubt she would have if she’d been paying attention.
When he was sure she wasn’t going to turn back, he strode over to the elevator. As much as Tobias didn’t care for Susan, he had to admire the depth of her love for her son. He’d always envied the boys in school who had devoted mothers. His mother had rarely come to class, showed up at only one or two school events during his entire childhood. She couldn’t even pack him or Maddox a decent lunch, he remembered as he watched the numbers light up at the top of the elevator. If she ever tried, she’d simply stuff a bunch of junk food in a bag and hand it over—not that he’d minded that when he was a kid. Taking anything from home made for a good day, since he and Maddox had almost always been on the free-lunch program.
He got off on the fourth floor. Jada had given him Atticus’s room number, so he was fairly confident he’d be able to find it. What he didn’t know was how he’d be received. Atticus claimed to have forgiven him, and these days he was friendly whenever they ran into each other. But this recent accident could easily have reminded him of all the things he couldn’t do—because of Tobias. It was even possible that Atticus might’ve been able to avoid hitting anything at all last night, if only he’d had the use of his legs. Then he wouldn’t be here.
“Hello?” He knocked on the doorframe, since the door stood open, but received no response, so he peeked inside.
He had the right room. Atticus was lying in the bed with his eyes closed.
Tobias looked up and down the hallway. It was well after visiting hours, but Maddox had indicated the hospital wasn’t strict on that policy, not if whoever was there wasn’t causing a problem.
A nurse hurried past, but she was intent on getting wherever she was going and didn’t pay him any mind.
He stepped inside the room and took the chair next to the bed; he didn’t say anything for quite some time, just watched Atticus breathe. If only he hadn’t gone to the party that terrible night, or hadn’t taken acid, or hadn’t found that gun, which had belonged to the parents of the boy who was throwing the party.
But he had gone to the party, he had been tripping on acid and, when he was hallucinating and out of his mind, thinking he was seeing some kind of monster, he’d shot an eleven-year-old boy—Jada’s younger brother, whom she’d brought to the party against her parents’ wishes.
As a result, Atticus was now paraplegic. The knowledge of the pain he’d caused, and the permanence of the loss, continued to torment Tobias. Tobias wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself, constantly struggled with what he’d done—some days worse than others. Although Maddox advised him to let it go, the past held him like a vise, and sometimes that vise tightened to such a painful degree he thought it would crush him entirely. It was in those moments that he was tempted to take up his old self-defeating behaviors.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
Startled that Atticus could talk and sound so normal, Tobias turned to him. He’d assumed Atticus was out for the night. “I’m...here to check on you,” he said lamely.
“In the middle of the night?”
“Your moth
er just left.”
He managed a crooked grin. “How long did you have to wait for that?”
Tobias didn’t see any reason to tell him it had been most of the evening. “I didn’t mind. There was no need to upset her.”
In a weak and slightly uncoordinated movement, Atticus gestured at his own prone position. “This isn’t your fault, you know. This accident had—” he took a deep breath as though summoning strength “—nothing to do with you.”
Tobias rocked back. “I didn’t say it did.”
“But that’s what you were thinking. I could see it on your face.”
Tobias hadn’t realized he was so transparent—or that Atticus had been looking at him that closely. “I’m sorry, Atticus. For what I did thirteen years ago. I’m sorry for that every single day of my life.”
“I know. But not everything that happens is a consequence of that one night. You have to let it go. Otherwise, you’ll just...destroy yourself.”
“I can’t believe you don’t wish that for me.”
“That isn’t what I want.”
It was what his mother wanted. She would love nothing more. The negative energy that radiated off Susan was partly what helped feed Tobias’s self-loathing. “Could you have avoided that parked car if you’d had the use of your legs?” It was a direct question, the type Tobias typically tried to avoid with Atticus, simply because it was so awkward, but he had to ask, had to know.
“Does it matter?” Atticus responded.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m going to be fine, so let’s not even go there.”
“You wouldn’t be fine if your neighbor hadn’t—”
“Dude,” he broke in. “Will you do me a favor?”
Tobias waited to see what he’d ask.
“Will you stop ripping yourself apart? What happened at that party was just...one of those things. You didn’t even know what you were doing.” He scowled in an obvious attempt to get through to Tobias. “Please, let it go. You’re only making it worse. If you can’t get past it, you’ll pull down Maddox and Jada and Maya. Do you think I want to see them suffer?”