That maybe he'd feel on-top-of-the-world victorious to have reclaimed his family's property—the only house where it had ever felt like home. And perhaps he should thank Mike for helping him honor the last wishes of his beloved grandmother. Even then it would only be logical to think he'd be happy he got exactly what he asked for.
Of course you'd be wrong.
Even as the judge called for the next case, Everett didn't move. He sat in the hard wooden chair staring at the other end of the table where Sophia sat. She was long gone, her lawyer, Jacob Bornstein, his high school football adversary, in tow. But Everett was still numb, frozen in place.
"Come on, man. Let's go," Mike said. He just finished packing his files away in the weathered leather briefcase Everett gave him two Christmases ago.
Everett looked up at him from his seat as a smug grin twisted the lines of Mike's face into an annoying smirk. A nonverbal I told you so. But what did he tell him, really, that Everett didn't already know? About Austin being an insidious bastard who left nothing but wreckage in his wake? According to Michael Kennedy-at-law, all the Harmans were. Or that Sophia was nothing but a pawn lost in the game?
He knew all of it, and none of it would bring Sophia back.
Almost two weeks had passed since he last saw her, but nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart plummeted into his stomach at the mere sight of her. The throbbing ache intensified everything and paralyzed him all at once. Seeing her again after such a long absence was jarring to his system to say the least, but she didn't look like herself. Her eyes were empty. She was still beautiful, but so serious, dressed in a navy skirt suit with her hair slicked back into a severe bun. It killed him a little on the inside to think he had any part in dimming her light, in helping her rebuild the walls around her heart, but stronger this time.
Mike's hand on his shoulder startled him back to the present and Everett stood abruptly. "I have to get out of here." He shook away the memory of Sophia's red-rimmed eyes. She didn't look at him once, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. "I'll catch up to you later. I'm not going back to the office today."
But as he turned away, Mike lurched forward and grabbed him by the arm. "Really, dude? You're going to go sulk somewhere?" His tone was sarcastic and cynical, like he meant to lighten the mood, but Everett couldn't downshift so fast.
In fact, with the move alone, Everett went from zero to sixty in no time flat. Tension curled into his fingers and his shoulders arched slightly back. His jaw squared under the clenching of his teeth. By the way Mike slowly retracted his hand, Everett suspected the acidic anger bubbling from his throat had made its way to his face.
He cut his eyes to the spot on his arm where his friend tightened his grip, then met Mike's eyes. "Don't ever grab me again."
This time, as Everett turned to walk away, Mike didn't stop him.
Everett wasn't sure where he was headed. He only knew he needed to be outdoors. The oak and marble walls seemed to be closing in on him, tighter and tighter, until he urgently needed to just breathe.
As he stumbled out on the sidewalk, a gust of August wind buffeted him, frantic and restless, sending chills down his spine. He was used to the air, full and damp with the promise of rain. Leaves rustled, noisy, clattering in fumbling swarms along the busy, tree-lined street. His senses had been numb, but suddenly he found himself taking note of every sound and scent and image. It was like a painting clashing with too much color. He wanted the noise and the movement to stop—if only for a moment—to give him time to think.
He ran his fingers through his hair and rested them behind his head, stretching. Right now he could go anywhere he wanted, but there was only one place he wanted to be. It just so happened it was also one of the only two places he couldn't go.
Getting out his cell, he found Sophia's name in his favorites. Everett knew she wouldn't talk to him, but it was dire—vital—for him to try. It rang one time before going to voicemail. As he expected, she ignored him, and the ache in his chest tightened.
Listen Sophia, I know you don't want to talk to me, and I don't blame you. But please give me a chance to explain. Please. I would never do anything to hurt you. I love you so much.
When he disconnected the call, he wasn't surprised to find Mike standing beside him. Not looking at him, but staring straight ahead.
"I figured when I didn't hear from you or see you in weeks, maybe you just needed some time," he said.
Everett lifted his chin, on edge as he listened.
"Got me thinking about life and how things work out sometimes. I could tell she loves you."
Everett turned and studied Mike’s expressionless face. The hard lines of his jaw were locked in place.
"I just hope you really give it a chance,” Mike continued. “It's not the same as with your pops. He was a self-serving asshole who didn't give a shit about his wife or his kids. He cared about money and appearances. You’re not him. You wouldn't abandon Sophia. I know you. You wouldn't let your pride stand between you. Long as you and I have been friends, for you to square up on me the way you did back in the courtroom..." Mike shook his head, like he couldn't have imagined the day would ever come. Not when it mattered. "I knew you loved her. Now I know just how much."
Mike’s expression softened as he met Everett's gaze, and for a second they were boys again. Back on the playground, on the football field, at the funerals of Everett's mom and Mike's younger brother, in the club, in the office. They were kids with long, muddied pasts, who knew each other's dirt and loved hard despite them.
Emotion clogged Everett's throat. He shrugged and gave Mike a quick nod, smiling. "You up for a ride?"
He might not be able to be where he wanted to be, but there was still one place he needed to be.
Chapter Eighteen
Laurie Strode, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and an ace bandage around her ankle, crept out of her hiding place just when Michael Myers gut-dropped the nurse.
Sophia was back on the couch again, binging on her horror movie marathon for the night. This time she went for the triple scoop of Rocky Road, Strawberry Cheesecake, and Mint and chips. Her emotions were all over the place, which meant only the classic horror movies would do, starting with the original Halloween.
"Don't just stand there, stupid! Ruuunnnn," Sophia yelled at the screen. "Or limp if you have to."
Michael was doing his supersonic slow-fast walk behind a limping Laurie, and the creepy music just hit high drive when Sophia's ears perked up at the distinct sound of jingling keys.
Only it wasn't coming from the TV.
Shit. At some point, I'm going to have to find a healthier way to lick my wounds.
Sophia froze and reached for the remote control to lower the volume. Those damn movies were making her skittish. Her heart raced and she could feel her eyes widening while she listened for the sound again.
Immediately her mind went to Austin's last visit. How he popped up out of nowhere to make sure he’d thoroughly ruined her life. Her skin blazed at the memory of his smug smile. How he seemed to revel in being the bearer of hope-crushing bad news. For his sake, she prayed it better not be him—there were still a few jagged bones she intended to pick with him.
She waited and listened, every nerve ending in her body standing at attention. With the TV on mute, she heard nothing but the chirp of crickets and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It was practically killing her not to say is anyone there? If not for Laurie being chased by her crazed psycho lunatic brother right then, Sophia might have called aloud, hello? Only an idiot would do something so stupid. She watched enough movie murders to know the rules of stupidity and inevitable death by maniacal sociopaths.
Instead, she swiped her phone off the table and crept toward the formal dining room beside the front door. Ninja-like, she peeked out the window toward the driveway. A red sedan was parked right in front of her house.
At the static silence, the hairs on her arms stood up.
Sophia
glared skyward, shaking her head. "Really? We're doing this?" she whisper-yelled. "You're adding home invasion to my list of shitty luck?" She didn't know anyone who owned a red car. The number of people she knew in Portland was limited. Other than anyone related to Everett, it was her lawyer, and Kara, who Sophia barely spoke to on account of the time she’d spent buried under Everett.
She let loose a spate of curse words as she turned away from the window, searching the darkness for anything to use as a makeshift weapon. Her weekender tote was packed and sitting by the door with her purse. There was the broom she abandoned mid-sweep after spilling cereal, a metal lamp, and the dang black pump heel she'd been looking for since Monday.
The doorknob rattled and the keys jingled again.
Ducking down, she crept toward her purse, digging out the small Swiss Army knife clipped to her key chain—a gift from Mom during one of her super dramatic moments after Sophia told her about a guy following her in the grocery store. Rather than argue, she humored her mother by putting it on the chain.
Damn it, she hated when Mom was right.
As soon as she heard the sound of a key slide into the lock and turn, Sophia stilled herself on the other side of the half-wall facing the foyer. She held the sharpest edge of the knife upward and held her breath as the front door creaked open and muffled footsteps scuffed quietly along the tiled floor.
"Shit," she mumbled under her breath. There was more than one pair of footsteps.
"Where's the bedroom?" a hushed female voice asked.
"Upstairs. Should we—"
Of course her phone would vibrate at the worst possible moment, giving her no other choice but to charge at her intruders. She blasted around the corner with a vengeance, knife pointed straight ahead, crouched in a fighting stance.
By no more than a hair, she missed filleting her mother and Julie as they unleashed a hail of ear-piercing, blood-curdling shrieks and giving any B-movie scream queen a run for her money.
"What are you guys trying to do to me?" Sophia tossed the knife onto the entry table, holding her heart.
"Us? You almost stabbed us. I was like this close to dying before I make it down the aisle." Julie brought her thumb and forefinger within a millimeter of each other. "You're lucky, too, because Nico would have killed you."
"Both of you hush, now. I knew in my bones this thing would come in handy at some point. I just wish you knew how to use it." Mom put her large tote bag on the table and rolled her paisley suitcase next to her daughter's sensible black one by the door.
Sophia took one look at the two of them and burst out laughing. They were both wearing all black, from their expensive rain boots to their hooded coats and leggings. "You guys are a hot mess, you know? What were you doing, casing the place? Staking it out?" She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she bit back a grin. "And you rented a car?"
"Well, if you answered any of our calls, we would have told you we were coming. But since you shut us out the way you always do, we got worried and figured we would either rescue you or surprise you.”
“By the looks of things, seems like we were successful with both," Julie chimed in as she peered into the living room, where Sophia’s movie marathon was set.
“Whatever, Jules. You guys are so annoying.”
"Aunt Helen, don't let her fool you. She's happy to see us. She's just moping right now." Julie pursed her lips and gave Sophia a telling look. It screamed don't even try to deny it. "Anyway, I would be willing to make a sizable wager that your predictable daughter has been stewing in her own filth on the couch watching axe-murderers and eating Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream. Am I right, Soph?" She gave her a condescending double pat on the shoulder as she waltzed into the living room toward the aforementioned scene of the crime.
Sophia loudly sucked her teeth and folded her arms, but she didn't deny it. "Whatever, Jules. You should try it. It works."
God, Sophia loved the way a good gut-wrenching, blood-racing flick could help put things into perspective. Mere heartbreak and eviction weren’t even a blip on the radar compared to a murderer chasing you when it came to worries. Sure, she was going to have to uproot her life for the second time in less than two months, but she wasn't being hunted. She was alive and well.
Well, a shell of her old self, but alive with mostly regular vital signs.
"I know I'm right. And it's exactly why we're here. You're not going to shut down again." Her cousin was still talking from the other room. She could see her turning on lights and beginning to unravel the fluffy cloud of blankets Sophia was huddled in just a few minutes earlier.
"Oh, honey. Is this what you've been doing up here? Crying?"
"No." Yes.
From the living room, Julie cosigned, "Yes."
"Mind your own business, please." Sophia's perfunctory smile was there, etched in place. The only problem was, it only worked on people who’d never seen her in diapers or taken baths with her when they were toddlers.
Naturally Mom slapped on her mother mask, the one with the pointed stare and tilted head. The you came out of my womb, so I know you better than anyone else on this earth look. "Why don't we go sit down and talk about the hearing? You may not be ready now, but at some point"—she paused briefly for exaggerated emphasis, and to lift Sophia's chin so they were looking at each other eye-to-eye—"I'm going to need you to tell me about this fella who’s got you all bent out of shape."
It was one thing to talk about Everett with Julie, but Mom?
Her mother tended to be cautious, to say the least. When it came down to it, she was worse than the CIA, the way she could scrounge up insignificant minutia and drag out a man's demons. Every man Sophia ever dated was, for some period, accused of having some strange affliction Mom felt it necessary to comment upon. Stuff out of left field, like a womanizing male chauvinist look, or serial killer eyes. And not once did Mom ever explain any specific criteria that led to her conclusions. She all but attacked Evan Landers in high school, practically strip-searching him because she was dead set on the idea that he was hiding a gun in his pants. Heaven forbid he admit he just dry-humped her daughter on the porch, resulting in a rather sizable stiffy.
Given her mom’s tendency to jump the gun, Sophia was curious to see exactly which outlandish pigeonhole Everett would be shoved into. She almost laughed aloud at the idea, but then she remembered the reality of just how bad things were in the courtroom.
"There's really nothing left to tell." Sophia shrugged.
She didn't want to think about how it felt like a million miles and a lifetime were between her and Everett seated at opposite ends of the same table. How she felt the weight of his gaze crashing down on her the whole time. If they couldn't come to a meeting of the minds, she certainly couldn't meet his eyes.
"Oh, come on now, Strawberry Cheesecake and Halloween? He must really be something."
"He was. Past tense, meaning he isn't anymore, so can we drop it?"
Mom's chin fell to her chest, and when she looked up again a faint smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. "I know you didn't get this house. I can tell you're back there at the old house, and it feels like your father leaving all over again, but this is not the same. Your father was just selfish, but Julie says your guy did everything he could to do right by you in the courtroom."
Tears pricked at Sophia's eyes.
Everett did find every possible way to add in concessions, making sure the judge knew Austin willingly agreed on the divorce settlement with full knowledge his ownership was in question. Both with the move-out extension and his determination to point out the flaws in Austin's character, Everett brought everything to light. Together, he and Mike got the judge to amend the previous settlement and order Austin to pay Sophia the value of the property.
But the cherry on top of the rum raisin ice cream?
Based on the new documentation Mike presented regarding the Harman family's history of targeting elderly homeowners with financial difficulties, the judge reviewed the five
other claims settled out of court, and the accusations of embezzlement in Austin's personal and business affairs, and he recommended initiating a new case against Austin.
It was good news.
Maybe even the best-case scenario.
"He did," Sophia whispered. "But how can I trust him now?"
Knowing her ex-husband was at the center of all this turmoil couldn't weld the rift ruptured between her and Everett. Every time Everett spoke, her throat closed in around the lump lodged there. Every time she felt her skin crawl with the undying need for him to touch her just once more, a shift traced the fault lines in her heart, and she knew it wouldn't be long before it caused irreparable damage.
He did what was right and maintained his loyalty to his family. And although Sophia knew she shouldn't fault him for something he was fighting before she came along, she couldn't shake the fact he did exactly what she was afraid he would do. He let their good thing come to an end. Like her father, he took away everything with any meaning to her and left her to rely on herself.
So, in two days, she'd be on the first-thing flying back to Vegas, heading out with Mom's realtor in search of a cocoon where she could start anew. Again.
Sophia bit the inside of her cheeks to steady her nerves. She was bent out of shape, and she couldn't imagine in a thousand years how she was going to untie the knots twisting in her gut. It was all the flipping and flopping back and forth about running to Everett and shoving him away. It was seeing her mother here in the flesh, in the house she’d condemned before ever stepping foot inside.
Not even a couple of months ago Mom foretold this ending. And once again, Mom was right, and it pissed Sophia off—just a teensy bit.
She slowly blew out a small breath and looked into her mother's smiling eyes. "You should be happy. Looks like you're getting exactly what you want," Sophia said, her voice low and shaky.
"Honey, what on earth are you talking about?"
"The bet, or the pact. Whatever you want to call it, I know it's why you're here. Well, guess what? You win. I'm going back to Vegas, where you can keep tabs on me, and you didn't even have to wait six months."
Mixed Match Page 17