Trust Me: A Roommates To Lovers Romance Novel (Free Book 2)

by Grahame Claire

  Mrs. Quinn touched Dad’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t have a key to the room.”

  “Oh.” Dad fumbled in his pocket and produced the plastic key card. “I took off without saying anything.”

  She squeezed. “You didn’t need to.”

  “Would you like to join us?” I indicated to the chair across from me.

  “I don’t want to intrude—”

  “We’d like you to,” I said, motioning for the server. “Whiskey okay for you?”

  There was a determined set to her jaw when she lifted her chin. “Sure.”

  * * *

  With a fresh round of drinks, the mood wasn’t quite so heavy.

  “We’re still scheduled to head out on Sunday, but if you want, we can move it up to tomorrow.” Dad looked at me over the rim of his glass.

  I shifted in my seat. “I’m not going back.”

  He clutched his tumbler and cleared his throat. “This time, I’m not leaving you out here on your own. Expect more than one visit a year.”

  “I look forward to it. Hope you’ll come too, Mrs. Quinn.” I tipped my glass to her.

  “It’s not my place to say anything, but I’m going to anyway.” Her lips thinned. “Take it from someone who’s made the mistake of letting the past dictate her future. Don’t do it.”

  I didn’t respond. She had no idea what I’d been through.

  “And just so I’m clear, in your case, I’m talking about you walking away from Baker. It’s no secret I adore her, but I adore you too. And if you let her go, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

  “She might leave me. And I can't take that,” I said tightly.

  “One day, you’ll wake up and wonder how you got this old. Make sure when you open your eyes, there’s someone beside you who loves you no matter what.” She tossed back her drink. “Stop kidding yourself.”

  She stood, kissed the top of Dad’s head, and then kissed mine. “If I didn’t care about you, I’d keep my mouth shut.” She kissed me again before leaving Dad and me staring after her.

  “She’s right.”

  “I know. But it doesn’t matter.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Baker

  The order for lip gloss came at the best possible time.

  It kept me busy enough that I didn’t have time to mope around on the sofa. So I moped and made lip gloss at the same time. See? Multi-tasking.

  The ache from Holt’s absence was my constant companion. I’d even spent the night at the shelter a few times just so I wouldn’t have to go home to an empty apartment.

  But I’d just delivered the remaining lip gloss to Juniper. Four days early. What was I going to do with all the extra time on my hands?

  I wandered from the boutique to Trish’s food truck. The line was down the block, so I caught her attention through the window. She unlocked the back door for me.

  “Need some help?”

  “How’d it go?”

  We spoke at the same time and laughed.

  “She didn’t order more,” I said. I shrugged like it was no big deal, but I was disappointed.

  “Did you ask?”

  “No?”

  Was I supposed to?

  “Then you can do it tomorrow. Call and make sure everything is okay with the shipment. Then ask if she needs more.” Trish was so business savvy. I was lucky to have her.

  “Okay,” I said, brightening. “Hey, Cricket.”

  She gave a little wave of acknowledgement from where she boxed up an order.

  “The new logo is getting rave reviews,” I said.

  “That’s good,” she mumbled without looking up.

  I clapped my hands and exchanged a look with Trish. “What can I do?”

  “Fill drinks,” she said as she went back to the window.

  “You got it.”

  * * *

  A couple of hours later, the three of us walked into Paths. Cricket hadn’t said more than a few words the entire time. The girl was an expert at being invisible. But when Trish and I sat down at one of the tables in the dining room, she joined us.

  “Have you heard from him?” Trish slid a container of the day’s leftover mac and cheese toward me.

  I went to grab some silverware from the cart near the wall.

  “No,” I said as I plopped back down. I pushed around some of the macaroni with my fork. “Has Andrew?”

  She put a container of broccoli between us and speared a piece. “Yesterday.”

  That made four times in a week and a half. I stuffed down the hurt and reminded myself he was in a bad place. He had his family. He didn’t need me.

  Cricket discreetly stabbed some broccoli.

  “Oh. Mr. Dixon wants you to come to Sunday dinner.” Trish turned to Cricket. “You too.”

  She mumbled her excuses, but there was a possibility she might show.

  “Did I hear my name?” Mr. Dixon strolled in, Ella in his arms, her diaper bag on his shoulder. “Hey, stranger.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “We missed you Sunday.”

  “I’ll try to make it this weekend,” I promised.

  “Did you finish making your gloss?”

  “Delivered it this afternoon.”

  He beamed at me. “So proud of you. Let me know if an old man and a little one can be of any help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I can help too.” Cricket spoke just loud enough to be heard, but she fidgeted with the sleeves of her flannel shirt.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Have you been here long?” Mrs. Quinn swept over to the table, a notepad in hand.

  “Just got here,” Mr. Dixon said.

  “There’s my sweet girl,” she cooed at Ella, who screamed her greeting. “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I need to go make a phone call,” Cricket muttered as she pushed away from the table.

  “Take this with you.” Trish offered her a few more containers.

  She greedily accepted before she disappeared.

  “She okay?” I asked, pointing my chin after her.

  A wary expression wound its way across Mrs. Quinn’s face. “I don’t know. But it’s very difficult to help people who don’t want to help themselves.”

  “Did she run off when Officer Wilson came by again?”

  “Nope. I still don’t know what that was all about.”

  “I’m glad you came by, Baker. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  We moved to the opposite end of the dining room where it was empty.

  “Daniel is working on the loose ends to try to keep you protected,” she said, her voice hushed.

  “How?”

  “I didn’t ask. I only take him at his word. If he says he’s on it, you can trust that.”

  There were so many people who had reported on the events of that tragic day. They could never all be squelched. It was impossible, but it helped to know Daniel was trying.

  I leaned against a dining chair. “Is it wrong to just want to move forward? I don’t want to pretend like it never happened—that’s not completely true. I want to remember and I want to forget at the same time.”

  “What happened was tragic. But it’s done and if the public finds out your involvement, it could be very difficult on you.”

  It already was difficult. I lived with this constant need to stay under the radar. This constant regret for what I’d let happen. And I wasn’t involved. I’d tried. If I’d known what was going to happen I'd have never gotten in that car, and I would’ve made sure Kyle didn’t either.

  “I didn’t do enough. They were supposed to stop it. I should have.” I dropped my chin to my chest and pinched my eyes shut.

  “You did the best you could. It’s always easy to look back and focus on what could have been.”

  She took me in her arms and held me close.

  “How do you do it? How do you have unconditional faith and support in every woman here?”

  “Sometimes t
hat’s all we need to get ourselves off the ground.” The lines around her eyes crinkled. “One day I might need yours too.”

  “You already have it.” I hugged her again. “Can you help me make sure the profits from the makeup line get to the victims?”

  She canted her head to the side. “Of course.”

  “I don’t want to advertise that. Only the part that will go here.”

  “You don’t have to donate your money here.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask.” She took my hands in hers. “Paths of Purpose is a better place because of your time here.”

  I blushed. “I don’t know about that. Just that you saved my life.”

  Whether it was fate or pure luck that I'd ended up in Mrs. Quinn’s care, I didn't know. That was the one thing that had gone my way after everything else had failed. My own family had once and for all exiled me from their lives, but because of that, I had her. She'd accepted a stranger without question and never made me feel anything less than loved. Without her, I didn't know where I’d be.

  Her expression turned soft. “Have you thought about a trip to Wyoming?”

  “I’m sorry, Easy. But I can’t do it. Not even for you.”

  His words had been on replay in my head. He couldn’t try. Not even for me. I shook my head. “We could have fixed things before. And I know I should go after what I want, but I need him to come after me. That’s silly, but I have to know it’s not me chasing after another guy. I need to be enough.”

  “Give him a little more time.”

  “I’m not going to look for a new relationship, but I’m not going to wait around either. He made his choice. It hurts. More than I want to admit. But . . .”

  “You’re an incredibly strong woman.”

  Coming from Mrs. Quinn, that meant a lot. Her faith in me had never ceased, and apart from Trish, she was the only person who’d ever shown that level of support. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Holt had shown he’d believed in me when he’d offered the loft at his garage for my makeup line. But even he didn’t want to stick around to be with me. Was that what strength amounted to?

  “Being strong isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Holt

  I shoved clothes into a bag.

  Then dumped them back out.

  “Shit.”

  I kicked at the mess on the floor. The picture of Celia and me floated on top of a shirt. I snatched it up and studied my face.

  I looked happy. Unburdened. Days like that near the lake made me forget about what I’d left behind in New York. It wasn’t always like that, but often enough that I could survive.

  I pulled out my phone and opened my camera roll. Baker and me on the sofa. Baker and me at Dino’s. Me with lips shiny with her gloss. My face buried against her neck before I took off for work.

  Every single day with Baker I was happy. Even on the days we fought. Maybe not so much on the ones she wasn’t speaking to me. But it didn’t take a genius to know what—or who, rather—had turned this hole inside of me to a cavern.

  Time and distance was supposed to make this easier, but it hadn’t. I missed her like mad.

  My decision to stay in Wyoming had made things clearer. It was good to be with the guys again. I enjoyed working at the park, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as I remembered.

  Or maybe I’d changed.

  My reasons for staying didn’t seem as pressing as they once had been. I’d run to New York to get away from my problems and found my soul had healed a little while I was there.

  I’d spent most of my days thinking about Easy. I couldn't shower without her on my mind. Pizza and beer didn’t have the same appeal without sharing it with her.

  The nights weren't any better. My bed was cold and empty without her warmth. Her laugh. Her honesty.

  I tossed the picture back on the floor and scooped my stuff back into my bag. There was a flight to Chicago in two hours. From there, it should be easy to get back where I belonged. I just needed to make one more stop before the airport.

  * * *

  The cemetery was a small plot on the land Cameron’s family owned outside of town. He’d always said he’d been born here and he’d die here. I guessed he was right.

  The grass was cut and there were fresh flowers on each of the headstones. I hadn’t been to this spot since the funeral all those months ago, but I remembered exactly where I was going.

  I stood and stared at the granite slab with his name permanently etched in it. Somehow it didn’t seem possible he was gone, never to return.

  “I was so angry at you, Cameron.”

  I didn’t say anything else for a minute, like I thought he might respond. Somehow releasing those words felt huge. They hung between me and the headstone.

  “I was mad at myself too.”

  While it had been easier to blame him for Celia and the accident, the weight of it sat firmly on my shoulders.

  “I couldn’t save you,” I said hoarsely as my eyes stung. My head was filled with visions of that moment where he slipped from my grasp.

  * * *

  “I love Celia. Was going to ask her to marry me. Will you tell her that? Take care of her?”

  Stunned my best friend had been cheating with my girlfriend, I lost my grip. When I realized what I’d done, I reached for him. I caught him with both hands, but couldn’t hold on.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry.”

  I touched the headstone and tried to gain my composure. I’d avoided any thoughts of what had happened on that mountain as best I could. Facing it now wasn’t easy.

  “It all went down so fast. We had so much training on what to do in an emergency, and I choked when it wasn’t a drill.” I hung my head.

  Survivor’s guilt.

  I had it in spades and combined with my anger, it was a heavy load.

  “I wish you’d told me about you and her.”

  I meant that. Yeah, I would've been beyond angry. I might not have spoken to either of them for a long time after. Or I might have been more understanding. But I never had the choice.

  “You should’ve told me you loved her. Looking back it’s obvious. Maybe you were better together than she and I were." I kicked at the grass. “But I trusted you.”

  Betrayal. Death. Loss.

  They’d all come in a gigantic wave that had knocked me off my feet.

  “I miss you, man.”

  That was what it all came down to. The fresh wounds had faded into this steady hurt. Baker had helped me manage the pain to the point I could be here now, talking to Cameron.

  “I don’t know if I’m to blame for what happened with the two of you. It doesn’t matter now. I just wish you were still around so I could punch you in the mouth.” I laughed. How many times had he threatened to do the same thing to me?

  I dug in my pocket and pulled out my ranger badge. “I hope wherever you are you’re happy.” I placed the metal on his headstone. “See you on the other side.”

  As I walked to my truck, I breathed a little easier. What he’d done was wrong, but it couldn’t be fixed. I was the one suffering because I hadn’t been able to let it go. And if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I’d have missed out on more time with my family. I’d have missed out on playing guinea pig for lip gloss and blush and whatever all that stuff was. Holding on to my anger wasn’t worth losing that.

  * * *

  “Dixon. You want to go grab a beer?”

  I pressed my phone to my ear. “Roman, I quit.”

  Silence greeted me before he burst out laughing. “You asshole. For a second, I thought you were serious.”

  “I am.”

  “What? You just got back. You can’t quit.”

  “I have to.”

  “Is it because of Celia?”

  “No. No. I’m over it. If you want her, you have my blessing.” Something in me had shifted. I hadn’t thought it was possib
le to get over her, but somewhere along the way, I had. Talking to Cameron had helped, but it was Baker who’d shown me what a relationship should be.

  “Come over. Let’s talk about this.”

  “I’m at the airport in Chicago, man.”

  “Damn, you are serious.” He let out a long sigh. “Let me add up the vacation you have left. I’ll put in your resignation when it runs out. At least that way you’ll get paid.”

  “Thanks.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I want a guided tour of the park next time I come into town.”

  He laughed. “You better, asshole.”

  * * *

  “Do you know her address?”

  “Holt. It’s three in the morning,” Marlow said, her voice rough.

  “Do I sound sleepy?”

  The sheets rustled. “I haven’t heard from you in a month.”

  “If I didn’t need something from you, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”

  Silence.

  “Do you have it or not?”

  “What are you going to do?” She was wide awake now.

  “Send flowers. What do you think? I want to talk to her.”

  She sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, smart ass.”

  “Having a relationship with our estranged mother for years behind all of our backs wasn’t a good idea.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever get past her betrayal.

  “I’ve ended it.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

  “Stay away from her. She’ll pack your head with lies.”

  “Speaking from experience, big sister?”

  “Too much.”

  “Give me the address.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “You could have told me that three minutes ago.” I ended the call, uncertain if I believed her or not. She’d broken my trust, been the opening through which our dear mother had slithered back into our lives.

  I needed closure. To have my say. Part of me thought I should let it go, not give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But I had to do this. I had to find her . . . before I moved on with my life.