by Fawkes, Sara
Something inside me rebelled, made me want to force him to tell me. The raw anguish I saw in his eyes, however, stopped me. I knew what it was like to hold in a secret that broke me, but the fact that he wouldn’t say anything scared me. “Would it change how I feel about you?” I whispered.
The lines on his face deepened. “Maybe.”
I swallowed and looked away. “But why did you lie to me?” I asked, my voice ragged.
“Because I wanted you to see the real me, who I am now.” He stroked my cheek again, arms tightening around me. “My family’s wealthy—not just well off, but filthy rich. That might not surprise you, but for years it defined who I was in the world. I could have anything I wanted, and I took it all.”
Some of my emotion abated, and I stared at him curiously. “You’re one of the most selfless people I know.”
I watched the tension melt out of him at my words. “Thank you for saying that,” he said, exhaling a shaky breath. “I wanted to change but didn’t know how. The life surrounding me was stifling—I think you of all people can understand that—and next to impossible for me to leave. So, when the chance came, I chose a college as far away from my previous life as I could get and left it all behind, hoping for a clean slate.”
“What did you find?”
The first signs of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “I found out I wasn’t a big fish, even in a small pond. It was so weird, being a complete unknown; I was starting fresh like I’d wanted, and I took advantage of it. I also reconnected with old friends—Trent was going to the same college, and we clicked like we had as kids.”
“I’m glad you got your happy ending,” I murmured.
Everett must have heard the longing in my voice and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have lied to you,” he said softly, “and I can’t apologize enough for that.”
“Just promise me, no more lies, okay?” My voice wavered, but his relieved smile made my belly do flip-flops.
“Promise.”
Skye had already left sometime while Everett and I were arguing. I hadn’t even registered her departure, but decided not to bring it up. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what his deep, dark secret was, but I stopped myself in time. At that moment, it felt too good to be in his arms, and I selfishly wanted to keep that happy feeling.
I just hoped it wouldn’t end up biting me in the ass.
* * *
The argument was still going through my mind the next day at work when Skye showed up at my piano. “I need your help.”
I pursed my lips, not sure what to say. “I’m working right now.”
“I know that and I’m sorry, but can we talk on your next break?”
A quick look at the clock told me I was due any time now, but I hesitated. “I don’t know what happened between you and your brother,” I murmured, “but it’s not really my business.”
“Please,” Skye pleaded softly, and I glanced up at her. Her thin face was pale, even behind the makeup. She looked desperate, her blue eyes so very much like Everett’s, and I felt myself relenting. “I just want to talk.”
“Fine, give me five minutes,” I said, and saw her shoulders sag with relief.
“Thank you. I’ll meet you out in the lobby.”
I’d expected her to say the bar, but she walked away before I could say anything. Intrigued despite myself, I finished my set and told the hostess I’d be taking my break, and then went out to find Skye. She wasn’t in the main lobby, so I checked the side room with the couches and saw her seated at the far corner.
She stood when she saw me, and I noticed she looked a little wobbly on her heels. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” she said, her hands twisting around her small purse.
I waved a hand, uncomfortable by the formal way she spoke. “I don’t know how I can help you, or even if I should.”
“I’m dying.”
The melodramatic statement got my attention, but I just folded my arms and waited for her to finish. She must have seen the disbelief in my eyes because she reached up and, with only a moment’s hesitation, tugged at her hair. My mouth fell open in surprise as it slid sideways, revealing the pale skin crown atop her head. I stared, dumbfounded, too shocked to think of decorum. Whatever I’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.
“The cancer’s spread to my organs, and chemotherapy isn’t reducing the spread fast enough.” Skye twisted the wig in her hands, clearly uncomfortable with the nakedness. “There’s a good chance I won’t see next year, and I can’t leave my relationship with Everett like it is now.”
It took me a long moment to find my voice. “Does he know?”
“That I’m sick?” She shook her head. “He has no idea. And I don’t want him to know, not yet anyway. That’s not why I’m here. I came to make amends.”
Shaken, I sat down on the arm of the couch beside me. “What happened between you two?”
She bit her lip and looked away. I didn’t think she would answer me but finally he said, “What has he told you about us growing up?”
“That your parents were absent for most of your lives, and you two don’t have a relationship.”
A humorless smile tipped her mouth. “That’s certainly a nice way to put it. We were like every bad stereotype you see in movies, the people who were cruel just because they could be. Maybe that’s why…” She trailed off, indicating herself with the wave of a hand, then she sighed again. “There are some things money can’t buy, and apparently health is one of them. Not that Mom and Dad aren’t trying; they’re paying and donating as much as they can to get me fixed. I should be thankful they’ve finally deigned to give me any attention at all.”
She didn’t sound thankful, and if what I’d heard about them was true, maybe they didn’t deserve it. “They haven’t told him?”
Skye shook her head. “My parents tend to forget they have kids at all until something goes wrong. I’m sure he hasn’t spoken to them in ages. He disappeared right after the court ruling …”
“Court?” Everett had gone to court for something? How much did I not know about this boy?
Skye looked uncomfortable, but persisted. “Please, can you help me?”
I wavered, unsure what to do. My eyes flickered back to her bald head, and pity stirred in my heart. “What do you need me to do?” I said quietly as she readjusted her wig. I knew it helped give her the semblance of a normal life, but my heart ached for her.
“Just give me a chance to talk with him. You saw what he was like the other day—he won’t speak to me. I just want to apologize, do what I can to repair things, let him know he’s not the only one who’s changed.”
I considered her for a long moment before finally speaking. “Trent and the guys are organizing an end-of-summer party at the house.” The words came reluctantly; I still wasn’t sure if inviting her was a good idea. “It’s happening this Sunday. Find me first, and I’ll make sure he sees you.”
“Oh, thank you.”
I thought for sure she was going to break down into tears, or hug me, but she held her ground. The gratitude, however, emanated from her in waves.
“And please don’t tell him I’m sick. I’ll let him know, but I want to apologize first. I want his real forgiveness, not just his pity.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do. Whatever happened between you, I don’t think he’s forgiven it.”
“You’ve already been tremendously helpful. Thank you so much.” This time she did hug me, an awkward affair as if she wasn’t sure how a hug was done. I thought back to what both she and Everett had said, the cold and distant home life. Perhaps something as simple as a hug was foreign to her. I couldn’t imagine having rich parents, or being stuck in boarding schools most of the year. My life up until my stepfather died had been good, and only recently could I look back on it without feeling pain.
“I, uh, should probably get back to work.”
Skye stepped away as a couple walked past us. “I guess I’ll see you on Sunday,” she
said, giving me a tiny smile, then walked away.
I blew out a breath and sat down on the couch, wondering what kind of mess I’d involved myself in. It felt as though I was always learning something new about Everett, but the story came in bits and pieces, incomplete. I knew there was more, something that for whatever reason they were keeping from me, and I wasn’t even sure whether I wanted to know.
I stood up and moved back toward my piano as a large group moved toward the exit. I noticed a familiar face rounding the corner. Frozen for a moment, I hurried after the smaller woman. “Mrs. Jones!”
My brother’s teacher turned at the sound of her name, and my heart fell when I saw her expression tighten when she saw me. Melinda Jones had never been anything but nice to me, but from her pinched look of distaste, she could barely stand the sight of me. I knew immediately that my grandmother had likely spread even more lies about me. It was almost enough to make me turn around and walk away.
Almost.
“Ms. St. James. I had no idea that you worked here.”
The apparent rest of that phrase, Or I would never have come, was left unsaid. Southern gentility prevented her from saying how she really felt, although it was written all over her face. I wiped my palms on my dress, suddenly nervous, and asked, “How is Davy doing?”
“He’s well, no thanks to your treatment.”
I flinched at her words, which confirmed my suspicions. “The last time we talked,” I said, keeping my voice low, “you said there was something suspicious going on.”
“Why are we having this conversation, Lacey?”
It was weird to see her closed-off face. Before, she’d always smile at me, her gentle but firm persona keeping the preschoolers in line. Having her disapproval aimed at me hurt, but I couldn’t back down. “Because I haven’t seen my little brother in over two weeks,” I said, “and I need to know he’s okay.”
The teacher’s eyebrows lowered. “Two weeks, you say?”
I nodded vigorously. “Not since my grandmother kicked me out of the house.”
She looked away, emotions warring on her face. “Lacey,” she said after a minute, “your little brother hasn’t been in my class all week.”
“What?”
“After I spoke with you, I talked to your grandmother as well a few days later. She promised to fix the situation—those were her exact words.”
And she had. That was the same time I’d been thrown out.
“But last week, I noticed your brother was withdrawn and had more bruises on his arm. This time I brought it up with the supervisor who called in your mom. She claimed it was your fault, but I haven’t seen Davy since then. Technically, he’s still enrolled, just not attending.” She peered at me. “You really haven’t lived there in weeks?”
Sitting back down on the couch there, I drew in a shaky breath. The idea of running out of work and tracking down my brother was tempting. As was evidenced by his teacher’s reaction, however, everyone thought I was the abuser. What would I do when I had him then? Run to Mexico? Go into hiding? Every scenario I thought up was laughable, except one.
“I need to call someone,” I said, wanting to cry from the dread in my heart.
Melinda’s expression softened, and she laid a hand on my arm. “If you need me to help in any way, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She rummaged through her purse and handed me her card. “I’ll do whatever I can to help your brother.”
I nodded and walked away, looking for someplace private. Winding my way down the network of hallways, I finally found a small bench outside the main areas and sat down. With shaking hands, I pulled out my cell phone from my bag. The old numbers were still in my head from a childhood of talking on the phone with my grandparents. I pressed them into the phone and lifted it up to my ear, heart jerking crazily as it began to ring.
Someone answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
Aunt Jeanine. I almost said her name. I hadn’t heard from any of my stepfather’s family in years, and yet the instant I heard that voice I was taken back to when I was a child. Questions ran through my head: Where were my grandparents? Why hadn’t they answered the phone?
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
I tried to speak, to say anything, but my throat closed up. Clutching the phone to my ear, I opened my mouth but nothing would come out. Emotion choked me, and I suddenly felt like crying. I needed help, but they were nearly a whole country away. Could they really do anything?
There came an exasperated grunt over the microphone, then the click as she hung up.
Dammit! I punched in the numbers again quickly, but closed the clamshell before I could press Send. Doubt washed through me and I covered my eyes, trying to control my shaky breaths. It wasn’t my asthma that threatened to choke me this time but my own fear and weakness. What do I do?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Boys are so predictable.”
“Totally.”
I picked up the big twenty-four case of beer and hefted it inside the shopping cart. “How much more of this are we supposed to get?” I asked.
Clare smirked. “According to their list, we’ll need another cart.”
“Typical.” I stacked another case on top. “Enough for now. This should last them tonight at least. We’ll get more the day of the party.”
“You’re not going to have any?”
I shook my head. “Not much into alcohol these days.”
Clare nodded as we meandered through the beverage aisle at the supermarket. “What’s next?”
“Chips, dip, and hot dogs. Not the most original menu.”
“I’m sure by the third beer most won’t even care.” I glanced up at her. “Thanks for hanging out.”
“Admit it, you just wanted me for my ID card.”
“Well, I needed someone over twenty-one, but you were my first choice, honest.” I looked over at my friend. “So, you’re coming to the party this weekend, right? You never gave me a definite answer.”
“I’m pretty sure I work that day, but I might be able to come later that afternoon.”
“You’d better. I haven’t seen you much around the club since you moved to catering.”
We fell into an amicable silence heading back to the meat section. I eyed Clare for a moment, and then asked the question that was first and foremost on my brain. “How are you and Andrew doing?”
A small smile played across her lips. “Good, I think. He’s a nice guy. What about your boy?”
I shrugged. “We had our first big fight a few days ago. Things are better since then, it’s just …”
“Just what?”
“I worry about all the things I don’t know about him, what’s happened before we met and such.”
“What, do you think he’s a serial killer or something?”
That imagery startled a laugh out of me. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t that,” I said, then bit my lip. “I hope.”
“Well, it takes time to get to really know somebody. You can fall in love the minute you see a person, but that doesn’t mean…” She trailed off, lost in thought. “Sometimes you just know that person is for you, that they fit. You love even the rough edges, mistakes and all, because you just know they’re for you.”
I stared at Clare curiously. “Are we talking about Andrew here?”
The question seemed to surprise her out of her daydream, and she flushed. “He’s a nice guy,” she repeated, checking out the items on the opposite aisle so I couldn’t see her face.
“You just said that—”
“Well, look who decided to show her face in public.”
I froze at the familiar female voice, and turned to see two of my exes standing behind me. Ashley was tucked up under Macon’s arm, her expression a mixture of triumph and scorn. Macon, ever the golden boy, seemed perfectly content with his situation, but his eyes still ran up and down my body. It made me shiver but I kept my reaction inside as I turned the shopping cart away.
“What, you’re not even go
ing to say hello to your friends?”
The condescension in Macon’s voice made me grit my teeth, but I kept right on walking.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Ashley cooed, “she’s just jealous.”
I rolled my eyes. Jealous? Seriously?
“She can do way better for herself than either of you!”
Oh, Clare. I appreciated how my friend stood up for me, but would have rather avoided a confrontation “Come on, they’re not worth it,” I murmured, and knew that Ashley heard me by the sharp intake of breath.
“I was your friend, and you ditched me for some dickhead,” she hissed.
“You stole my card and used me as nothing more than a chauffeur service, and you expect me to just take that?” I couldn’t hold myself back; the memories welled up and brought the anger with them. “You were never my friend unless you needed something.”
“Whatever,” Ashley said, waving me off, and I had to fight not to slap her silly. She wrapped her arms around Macon’s waist and stared up at him dreamily. “She was never as good to you as I am,” she said, turning his head so he looked at her and not me.
He didn’t answer, just kissed her roughly, pinching her ass in full view of the public. I wrinkled my nose at their display and the amount of tongue they used, then nudged Clare, who looked ready to say something else. “Let’s just go.”
Macon broke off the kiss, his eyes swinging back to me. “Come on, baby, you know I’d take you back in a heartbeat,” he said in that soft croon that had once made me melt. “Why don’t you come back home?”
I gawked at him. Macon didn’t seem to realize what he was saying in front of his new girlfriend, or otherwise he just didn’t care one way or another. The hurt look Ashley gave him made me feel pity for the girl, right up until she turned the glare at me, as if his propositioning me was my fault. Disgust filled me at the entire display. What had I ever seen in either of them? “You two deserve each other,” I muttered, walking away.
Ashley tugged on his arm. “Leave her alone, baby, let’s go.”
Macon ignored her pleas, following after us. “You’re not still with that fucking city-boy, are you?” he said, all softness gone from his voice.