Clayton (Bourbon & Blood Book 2)

by Seraphina Donavan

  “Mia, I don’t know what happened here last night,” I begin, but it’s hard to speak past the lump that has formed in my throat. Apparently all the Darcys want to make me an emotional wreck today. “Or what happened here the night you intended to run away with him… but I do know, that in spite of everything, these last two weeks I have seen you smile more, laugh more, and live more than I have in the twelve years that I have known you.”

  A pained expression crosses Mia’s face, a kind of agony that I am all too familiar with. If Clayton is the love of my life, then surely Bennett Hayes is hers. I’ve always known that Mia was hurting, that she was lonely and unhappy being so isolated, but I’d never known just how much. I hadn’t allowed myself to see it, if I’m honest. Neither had Clayton or Quentin. We’ve all just gone about our business and left Mia to fend for herself. Being hit with the realization that you’ve been an entitled, self-indulgent shit to someone you actually care for is a bitter pill to swallow.

  Mia is miserable and if Bennett Hayes can undo that, if he can break through that hard, icy shell Mia has been wearing for years, I’ll be the first one in line to cheer him on. Reaching into the box on my lap, I pull out a photo and hold it up to Mia. “For the last week and half, you’ve been this girl. A little older and a little wiser… well, maybe a little wiser. But I’ve never known the girl in this picture. I’ve never seen your eyes sparkle like this… not until recently.”

  There is a long pause, silence stretches in the room. Finally, Mia asks, “Do you regret it?”

  “Regret what?” I respond. It’s a stalling tactic. I know exactly what she is talking about. The conversation has turned and this is no longer solely about Mia and Bennett. Now it’s Clayton and myself under the microscope.

  Mia’s expression tells me in no uncertain terms that she isn’t buying the dumb act. “Do you regret leaving my brother?”

  She won’t let me off without giving her a straight answer. Since I’ve birthed one of their ilk, I know all about who hard headed and strong willed a Darcy female can be. Still, I try to keep my answer vague, more to protect my bruised feelings than because I feel like she’s prying. “I regret feeling like I had no other option.”

  “That’s not really an answer. Do you miss Clayton? Do you think about him and about how things might have been, or could still be, different?”

  She’s given me a question I can’t dodge. Fuck. “I thought we weren’t going to poke at this,” I hedge, throwing Mia’s own words back in her face.

  “Changed my mind,” Mia says with a shrug, as if she is perfectly entitled to so do.

  A dozen and one things cross my mind. The months of silence and distance, the invisible wall that Clayton constructed between us for reasons he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain. But it’s the encounter in the kitchen the previous night, the weight of his hands and the heat of his mouth on hers, the way we talked like we used to, all of that is there at the forefront of my mind. Yes. I regret it. Every day in a dozen different ways since he moved out of the house, I regret it.

  “Of course, I do. I love him. I will always love him… but somehow, it just stopped being what it was supposed to be for us. He got quiet and distant, and I felt like a shadow moving through his life. Whatever was in his head, whatever was consuming him… he wouldn’t share that with me.”

  Mia shakes her head at me, like I’m being an idiot. Maybe I am.

  “Clay doesn’t do a whole lot of sharing, Annalee,” she says pointedly. “That’s not who he is. He’s the fixer. Hell, that’s why you’re here right now!”

  I can’t talk about it anymore, I can’t look at it anymore. It’s like broken tempered glass. It’s all still together, each of those million broken pieces clinging together against all odds, but one more staggering blow, and the pieces will scatter and I’ll never put them all together again.

  “I know that, Mia. I’ve always known that about him… but how he related to the rest of the world was not how he was supposed to relate to me. I was his wife. I deserved to have a piece of him that was just mine.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mia said. “I wish I could make it better.”

  I force my tone to soften, realizing that I’ve spoken to her far too harshly when she is clearly in a fragile state herself. I take a deep breath and force the clenched muscles in my body to ease before they just snap. Mia isn’t trying to hurt me, but then neither is Clayton. It still feels like they’ve both left a mark though. “We all wish that for the people we love. Whatever happens for Clayton and me, you’re my family. Got it?”

  Mia nods. “I got it. And I’m guessing that it’s time to pick up Emma Grace from… what is it today? Dance, Girl Scouts?”

  Thankful for the reprieve, I answer with a smile. “A field trip to the candy factory in Bardstown. What the hell happened to just going to school?”

  I get up from the chair and place the box back on the floor. There is no point in uttering a goodbye, Mia is already engrossed in the next box. She is on a mission like a woman possessed.

  I leave, slipping out before Evelyn can corner me and demand my accounting of how I think her baby-girl is doing. I’m hoping against hope that Mia finds what she needs, that all of that digging through the baggage of their lives and their tragedies isn’t for nothing. I climb into my minivan to go and pick up Emma Grace and glance in the mirror. “I hope we all do.”

  Clayton

  * * *

  It was dark by the time I parked in front of my condo again. The day had gone by at a crawl and I still felt like ass. Going through the front door, it was a relief not to see Samuel there or to have any other unexpected guests. All I want is to take enough Tylenol to fell a horse and guzzle water by the gallon.

  Stepping into the kitchen, I grab one of the two kitchen towels that I actually own and fill it with ice which I immediately press to my aching head. “Fucking hell! I am never drinking again.” It’s a lie. I know it was the minute I utter the words, but at the moment they’re gospel.

  Moving to the couch, I settle in, lean my head back and close my eyes against the glare. I’m too damn old to feel this way and to be this damn stupid. From across the room, where I dropped my jacket and brief case as soon as I walked in, I hear my phone ring. For about two seconds I consider not answering.

  I can’t do it. It could be Annalee, though I doubt it. It could be anyone of the half dozen people who have been feeding me info about Samuel. Or it could be Mia. Right now, that’s my biggest concern. Annalee had sent me a text in the afternoon stating that whatever had happened with Mia she was still ‘fragile’. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I sure as hell don’t like it.

  In the end, I ignore my aching head and my less than happy stomach and cross the room to answer the phone. I don’t recognize the number which doesn’t bode well.

  “Clayton?”

  I know that voice. If Bennett Hayes is calling me there’s a damn good reason. “Yes.”

  “It’s Bennett Hayes. Mia is at my house and will be for at least the next twenty-four hours. Your father is with Patricia so you probably want to get somebody on that.”

  Son of a bitch. This isn’t good. There is nothing about this that can possibly be good. “Is Mia hurt?”

  I can hear the hesitation in Bennett’s voice before he answers. “Physically? No. I don’t think so. But that son of a bitch is going to hell for the emotional shit he’s put her through.”

  Truer words were never spoken. The fact that I’m not totally clear on what exactly he’s talking about worries me more than a little. “That’s an understatement…I know what he is, Hayes. I’ve known for a long time. I’m working on that, but taking down someone who is a professional liar like Samuel isn’t easy.”

  Bennett gets quiet on the other end for a second. I can all but hear the wheels turning. When he speaks again, he asks a question I wasn’t expecting. “What do you need?”

  It’s an easy enough answer to give. It’s a harder thing to lay hands on. “Somet
hing damaging enough to kill his social status. If he thinks he’s losing that, he’ll come to heel quick enough.”

  Bennett sighs, and then says in a resigned voice, “I need you to meet me at my brother’s farm in an hour.”

  “Will I be leaving it alive?” Emmitt Hayes is a crazy bastard. Big, mean and possibly ugly. It’s hard to tell under his lumberjack beard. The one thing I do know is that he hates everything Darcy. If he sees me roll up to his front door, I’m liable to get shot, if not worse.

  “Alive, yes. Unscathed? Don’t get out of your car unless I’m there.”

  I can hear the smile in Bennett’s voice when he answers. The bastard is enjoying himself. “Fine,” I agree.

  There are no goodbyes. The call just ends abruptly. I go into the kitchen, dump the makeshift ice pack in the sink and grab some Tylenol from the cabinet and bottle of water from the fridge. They probably won’t help, but at this point, they can’t hurt. It’s a good thirty minutes to the Hayes farm.

  I pick up my phone again and call Annalee. She picks up after one ring. I can hear Emma Grace giggling in the background.

  “I need a favor,” I say immediately.

  “What is it?”

  “I hate to ask, but I need you to go over to Mama’s for a while. Apparently, Mia either left under her own steam or Samuel kicked her out. Anyway, he’s there with Mama right now, so I’m on my way over to evict his ass. But after that, I’ve got to go meet Emmitt Hayes and probably get my ass handed to me.”

  I realize I’ve said way too much and just clam up. Annalee is quiet for a minute. “Clayton, I don’t like the idea of you going out there. I like Bennett just fine. And I think Savannah is great. I wouldn’t trust Carter with anything female, but I don’t think he’s a bad guy. Emmitt…well, he’s not bad, but his hatred of you runs deep.”

  “I’m aware. Bennett will be there too. It should be safe… I think. I hope.”

  “I’ve got to get myself and Emma Grace dressed. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  She has to get dressed. That’s the only part of that last statement that seems to be resonating with me. Like the poor, pathetic, horny bastard I am, I ask, “So, what are you wearing?”

  “Clayton Joseph Darcy, we are not having that conversation!” she hisses.

  “Just tell me, do you have on panties?”

  She sighs into the phone. “Yes.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Annalee. I can tell. You’re wearing a pair of yoga pants, I’d lay odds on it, and given how well I know your habits, you don’t have on any underwear beneath them, do you?”

  There’s no response. Just silence coming from the phone. It’s confirmation enough.

  After a long pause, she says, “This is a pointless conversation.”

  “Oh, there’s a point to it. I have no idea what I’m going to the Hayes farm for, but if it’s what I think it is… you and I will be having a long talk. After that talk, we’ll be together, but we won’t be talking at all. You just count on it.”

  “I’ll be at your Mama’s house in about twenty minutes.”

  The call ends abruptly. I pushed her. I know I did. And if this plays out the way I need it to, I’ll be doing a hell of a lot more than that.

  I scroll through my contacts and call Evelyn’s phone. She answers after the first ring.

  “Evelyn are you at the house?”

  “I’m pulling into the driveway right now,” she replies.

  “Go in, pack an overnight bag for Mia and then just leave. Don’t talk to Samuel, don’t even look at him. I’m on my way there.”

  “Your Mama needs to be turned and fed,” she protests.

  “I’ll turn her when I get there and Annalee can take care of the tube feeding.”

  Evelyn gets quiet for a second. “Where’s my baby girl, Clayton? And don’t you lie to me!”

  I smile in spite of myself. Evelyn was our housekeeper long before she became Mama’s caregiver. She ran roughshod over me and Quentin as kids, but she coddled and spoiled Mia like there was no tomorrow. “She’s fine, Evelyn. She’s at Bennett’s house, but I don’t know how long she’ll be staying there. It’s okay. I’m going to fix this.”

  “All right.”

  I grab my keys and head out to the car. It’s a short drive to my mother’s house. I’ll never call it Samuel’s. He hasn’t actually lived there since her accident anyway. When I pull into the drive, I see at least three vehicles. Mia’s rental car is there. I don’t know how she got to Bennett’s house, but she didn’t drive. Evelyn is parked beside her. The third car is Samuel’s new Mercedes. I walk past it and up the back steps to the kitchen door, resisting the urge to key the paint. It’s a childish impulse and pointless anyway since it’s my hard work at Fire Creek that’s paying for the damned thing.

  I enter the house through the kitchen door. Evelyn is standing there at the counter looking worried.

  “He’s looking awfully pleased with himself,” she says. “He only ever looks like that when he’s hurt somebody.”

  “I don’t know the details yet either. If I did, I’d tell you. Put Mia’s bag in my car and go on home for the night. Between myself and Annalee, we’ve got Mama covered for the evening.”

  “Teresa will be back tomorrow night,” Evelyn offers. When she continues, her tone is a little more strident. “And I’m coming back here tomorrow no matter what you say. I don’t take care of Patricia because you pay me to. I take care of Patricia because I love her and because I love you all.”

  I give the woman a hug. “I know all that. And we appreciate every bit of it, and we love you too. So, before you hear me and Samuel screaming at one another, and me saying words you’ll want to wash my mouth out for, just go on home for tonight.”

  She pats me on the cheek. “You are a good boy, Clayton. You might have to do some bad things to get rid of that son of a bitch, but you’re doing it for all the right reasons.”

  It’s like she just reached inside me and pulled out my heart. That’s what happens when you talk to people who’ve known you since birth. “Thank you, Evelyn.”

  I watch her head out the backdoor toward my car, Mia’s bag in tow. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the confrontation to come. I’m not a hundred percent. Hell, I’m not even at seventy five. Hungover and wrung out, I’ve got to face the fucker. Jesus Christ, could this have come at a worse time?

  I knew Samuel wouldn’t be in the former study which has been converted into a room for Mama. He’d die before walking in there. Whenever he comes to the house he sticks to the kitchen or the formal living room, places where he doesn’t have to acknowledge the pitiful shell of the woman he married and ruined.

  Sure enough, that’s where I find him. “Get out,”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “This is my house, son. You don’t get to throw me out of it.”

  “That’s funny, because you haven’t paid taxes on it over two years,” I tell him. “I have proof of that, in case you’re wondering. I’ve got proof of a lot of things that can make your life a lot less cushy and your social calendar a lot less full. I’ll use everything I’ve got, too.”

  Samuel laughs at that. “I know you’re not threatening me, boy. You don’t have the balls for it.”

  Quentin hid the guns when he came over to check on Mia. It’s a damn good thing I don’t know where. “You’d be surprised what I have the balls to do. Annalee is coming over to stay with Mama, and you are getting the hell out. If you don’t, I’ll tell Erica all about the little jaunt to Los Cabos that you have planned… I’ll also tell her about the younger, fresher model you have lined up to take her place.”

  Samuel’s gaze hardens. He’s never been one to take well to someone else having the power. “I know you’re not spying on me,” he says. “You’re not that goddamn stupid.”

  I laugh. “As crooked as you are, I’d be stupid not to. Get out. If I have to tell you again, I’ll throw you out.”

  “You’ll regret crossing me, Clayton. I p
romise you that much. I can make your life hell, and if you think being my son affords you any sort of protection or leeway, you’re wrong,” he warns.

  “The only thing being your son ever afforded me was the mistrust of others… well founded since I’ve discovered I can be just as crooked as you,” I reply. “I won’t hesitate to throw you bodily from this house. If you happen to snap your neck in the process—well, accidents, happen, don’t they?”

  He gets up and moves toward the door, “For the record, I’m leaving because I want to… not because of your threats.”

  “I don’t care why you go, as long as you do.”

  When Samuel is gone, I walk into other the room to check on Mama. I don’t know how long she’s been lying on her side, but I’m pretty sure it’s been too long. Using the underpad beneath her, I shift her onto her other side and prop a pillow beneath her. Her hand falls onto mine.

  For just a moment, I hold onto it.

  “I’m trying, Mama. I promise you, if it’s the last thing I do, I will get that son of a bitch out of all of our lives.”

  There’s the faintest tremor in her hand. I freeze, my eyes glued to her face. There’s nothing, no indication that she’s hearing or responding, but her hand moves again in mine, just the slightest flexing of her finger.

  I can’t breathe. “Mama, please, just one more time. Let me know you’re doing that on purpose.”

  I wait for what seems like an hour, but it’s only minutes. I wait until I hear the excited chatter of Emma Grace running inside and Annalee moving behind her, urging her to be quiet. Mama hasn’t moved again and I begin to question whether or not she really did it all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

  Annalee is standing in the door way looking at me. I meet her gaze and it must have shown on my face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I nod. If it happened, if it was real, it isn’t something I can tell anyone. Not yet. I need more info. More proof. I need something that doesn’t just make me look desperate and crazy.