And… the tears began to fall again.
“Oh, Jess,” she rocked me in her arms, “I could never hate you. He’s my brother and I love him, but you are my best friend and you’ve been there for me through a lot these past few months. I love you and I don’t judge you for your choices, just like you never judged me for mine.”
“Thank you.” Air escaped from my lips like it was being emptied from a dump truck. The build-up of tension in my body decreased appreciably.
“That being said, you need to talk to Tammy. And, while he may be my brother, if he’s really being an asshole—which I have no problem believing that he is—you should request that someone else see him.”
I laughed, pulling back from her arms and reaching for my La Croix instead of the whiskey. A smart move.
“I’m tempted. But one, I think it will look bad if I try to give back not only my first patient, but one who requested me.”
“I’ll go with you and vouch that currently, my brother is being a giant ass.”
Emmet was right for calling this girl ‘sunshine,’ she literally always found a way to light up any situation.
“No.” I shook my head. “But thank you.”
“You sure? I hate seeing you like this.” She chewed on her lip. “You’re always so strong; I’ve never seen anything… anyone… be able to break you like this.”
Everyone has their Kryptonite.
“I want… I need to help him.” My voice broke as I wiped the scars of my tears from my face. Ugh. I hated when I cried. I was such an ugly crier. “You are right… about me being right. Chance is hurting and he’s not thinking straight. After everything that I’ve done—how I’ve hurt him—if I can help him in any way to realize that snowboarding can still be a part of his life and that he’s not a failure just because he fell… I owe him that. I’ve had eight years to prepare for his anger; I can survive five weeks.”
I hoped.
It may have been named as the ‘water of life,’ but that whiskey was more like a truth serum for me. Bubbling up from my heart to say that my need to help Chance was because of far more than just guilt.
She eyed me warily.
“Ally, trust me. I can handle your brother. I was the one who threw him out of his own house, remember?”
She couldn’t deny that. She’d been there the day he’d found out about her and Emmett and almost beat Emmett to a pulp. Still, her expression didn’t falter.
“If you say so. But, if you want my opinion, the only thing that you owe him is the truth about what happened. Everything else—while I would be eternally grateful if you pulled him from his rut—is not your fault nor your responsibility. Just like Tammy not being able to have a baby is not your fault either.”
“I know,” I groaned. Yet, I still felt like their pain was all my doing. And I couldn’t shake it. “Alright, I’m going to go. I guess I’ll be back tomorrow with my stuff. Tam will be thrilled.”
“Yeah, she will. If I have to hear her mention one more time about the pillows being moved or having to make room for your La Croix bottles in the fridge, I’m going to revoke my offer to help her at the daycare.”
I left the house laughing. The car ride back to Tammy’s apartment was a different story.
“Tammy?” I knocked on her door. It wasn’t that late, but she was already in her room. I could see the light shining underneath.
“Yeah?” Her voice was muffled.
“Can I come in?”
Click. The door unlocked and opened, revealing Tammy in light blue flannel pajamas. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Oh my God, Tammy!” Grabbing her shoulders, I pushed her back until her knees hit the edge of her blue-floral duvet-covered bed. She immediately sat and I joined her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Looks like I wasn’t done crying for the night.
“I-I’m f-fine—“
“Don’t even think about lying to me, Tamsin Charlotte Lucas. This is where I draw the line. Spill.”
There was a moment of silence. She was going to try and brush me off again, I just knew it. My impending helplessness made me nauseous.
“They came and took Lila away today.”
“Wait, what?” Tammy, bless her soul, would never admit to favorites or faults, but anyone working in the daycare knew that Lila was special to her. Maybe because she felt like Lila didn’t have good parental figures at home—a nanny always brought her. Maybe because Lila called her ‘Mammy’ instead of ‘Tammy.’ She had a special bond with the three—or was it four?—year old. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Sofia,” the nanny, “came today—before it was pick-up time—and was all flustered. She said she had to take Lila home immediately.”
“That’s it?”
“I asked what was wrong and if everything was ok but she just kept shaking her head and saying that they had to go.” Tears were falling down her face again. “I asked if she would be back tomorrow and Sofia said she wasn’t sure, but probably not.”
I hugged her close to me as she let out a sob.
“Lila started crying. She hugged me and said that she didn’t want to go. She was crying so hard, Jessa. I’ve never seen her cry like that.” Another sob ripped from her chest and sounded like it took her heart with it.
“Oh, hun.” I blinked so fast one might think I was having a seizure, but I was trying keep my own tears from falling. I’d worked at the day care for a few months while studying; I knew Lila. Shy and quiet. Very caring. I couldn’t even remember if I’d seen her cry about anything, which meant for Tammy to see her in this state… it was no wonder she was devastated.
“Ok, do you think she’s in trouble? Did you try calling the number on file? I mean, I know Sofia always is with her so it’s not like someone she doesn’t know came for her.”
“I tried the number. No answer. So, I-I waited until all the kids were gone and then I called Sofia’s number. I couldn’t really understand but I’m scared to think I heard her mention something about Child Protective Services, but I just can’t be sure.” She broke into sobs again.
“Shh.” I soothed her, rubbing her arm and trying to calm her. “Hey, it’s going to be ok. Lila always seems happy and we’ve never seen any bruises or injuries or anything like that, so I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“I just… I wish I knew. She was so upset.”
“I know, Tam. But she’s also a child. She can’t understand what’s going on. Let’s not overthink what is happening. You were upset when you were on the phone. Maybe that’s not what Sofia said. Maybe there was just a death in the family or something that is upsetting, but not having to do with Lila, yeah?”
She sucked in a staccato breath. Silent for a moment as though she hadn’t considered my thought. I was grasping at straws, but it was a distinct possibility.
“That… that could be true, I guess.”
“It could be, hun, so let’s not get so worked up over what might be nothing.” I rubbed along her arm, letting her sit silently for a moment. The way she loved these kids like they were her own was incredible. I was good with kids, but Tam, she gave one-hundred-and-ten percent. Every. Day.
For me, I couldn’t put myself out there like she did because all I saw when I looked at them was the baby that I’d lost. It was stupid, I thought, blinking rapidly, because it had been an it—a ball of cells, nothing more. But it’s always the lost potential that hurts us the most and working there made me wonder about things that I guess I wasn’t ready to wonder about.
I didn’t even realize how it weighed on me until I was asked to interview at the out-patient center before I’d even taken my licensing exam—I couldn’t continue working at the daycare center for much longer, especially after Chance reappeared. My memories had turned me into a punching bag—and I was being hit from all sides.
“I’m sorry,” Tammy mumbled, wiping her face—and her collected mask back into place.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for. Seriously, you have a lot going on right now Tam, it’s ok to lean on me… on someone… every once in a while.”
She nodded, but I wasn’t sure that she’d really heard me as she reached for another tissue.
“Sorry,” She let out a sad laugh. “You came in here to tell me something and I totally monopolized the conversation.”
“Stop, Tam. Seriously,” I let a little edge into my voice, “I’m always here for you.” She gave me a grateful smile and stood, walking over to the other side of the room to throw away her tissues and waiting for me to continue. “I actually come bringing good news, I think.”
“Well, that’s good because I’m not sure I can handle any more bad news right now.”
“More?” I frowned.
She shook her head, brushing me off. “So, what is it? Tell me the good news.”
“I’m moving out,” I said as my shoulders slumped with a sigh.
“What?! Where?” Her eyes went wide.
“Ally offered me her house since none of them are living in it at the moment.”
“Oh, Jess. You don’t have to go, really. It’s not a problem at all for you to stay here.” Guilt clouded her face and I felt horrible all over again.
“Tam, I love you, but I think Mother Theresa would be a better liar than you.”
“Jessa!”
I shrugged my shoulders and laughed. “It was a joke. Calm down. Anyway, I stopped over at Ally’s after work today because she was cleaning out some more things to take to Emmett’s and she offered me the place.” I squeezed her hand. “I think it will be a good thing. With the job and everything, I could use the space—you know, to make more of a mess—and then this way I won’t feel so stressed about finding a new place.”
“You’re sure you can’t get back into your old apartment?”
“Oh, right. Sorry, forgot to mention that part. Yeah, the mold is so bad that I got an email from my landlord saying that everyone’s leases are going to be terminated because the damage is severe and is going to take too much time to repair.” I groaned and shook my head in disbelief.
She gasped. “Oh my gosh! Are you safe? Should you go see a doctor?”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, mom, but it wasn’t in my apartment. It was on the floor below on the other side of the building, so I’m good, but I guess the whole building needs to be gutted. I’m not really sure. All I know is that I was almost homeless there for a second.”
These things only happened to me.
“You know I would never kick you out.” She sat back on the edge of the bed. “Are you getting your security deposit back?”
“Yeah. Probably not for a week or two though, but I’m ok.”
“When are you moving?”
“I’ll probably take all the stuff I have here over to the house tomorrow and then go back to my apartment at the end of the week to grab what’s left.” Even my voice strained at the prospect of moving again—my least favorite thing.
Thankfully, I’d only moved in a few months ago so I didn’t have too much stuff. Although, you’d be surprised how many candles one can accumulate in so short a period of time.
“Do you need any help tomorrow?”
“I think I’ll be good.” I smiled. “As hard as it might be for you to believe, I don’t actually have a lot of stuff here…” That got a laugh out of her.
“Ok, well if you need anything.”
I reached over and hugged her tight. “Thanks for everything, Tam. And don’t worry about Lila, ok? No point in getting worked up over something until you know all the details—it does no one any good.”
She nodded against my shoulder. I stayed a few more minutes to ask if she’d heard anything from the doctors; her answers said that there wasn’t much new information, her tone said Lila wasn’t the only thing that she was fearing the worst about.
Finally crawling into my bed, my thoughts returned to the one thing that I’d managed to keep at bay for most of the afternoon. My hand slipped into my underwear and, biting my lip so my moans didn’t wake up Tammy, I closed my eyes and pictured Chance in front of me again; I felt his fingers on me instead of my own; I heard his voice rasp against my neck. And my body disintegrated all over again.
I was the Hanged Man—one of the most mysterious cards in the deck.
Simple, yet complex.
The Hanged Man attracts, but also disturbs; it contradicts itself in countless ways. Just like I did. Slowly and surely, I was letting go of my control over my desire and my vulnerability; I was clawing for that emotional release. My concerns about Chance—and his intentions—slipping like sand right through my fingers; I should be holding on tighter, knowing he wanted to break my heart.
Above all, this card shows the paradox of life—that we gain control by letting go; that we win by surrendering.
I was the Hanged Man living in his paradox.
Somehow, I would only be whole again by being broken. And Chance… that man knew how to break me like a promise.
FROST POUNDED ON MY DOOR like he was trying to get a nut off. He never bothered me this early.
Guest house was fucking PC for what this place was—two bedrooms, two baths. It was like how everyone referred to where Prince Harry lived as a “cottage”—he’s a fucking prince, you know that shit is no cottage. Well, that was what this place was—elegant, extravagant, and oozing wealth—the perfect disguise for a prison because what kind of cage has chandeliers?
“What?” I half-yelled with a voice that felt and sounded like the coarsest sandpaper. I dragged myself from underneath the disheveled mess of covers and schlepped to the door. Habit now had me locking it overnight.
What the fuck time was it anyway?
I hoped he was alone because I was naked as the day I was born. Unlocking the doorknob, I turned back towards the bed—and my sweatpants on the floor next to it—as the door swung open.
“Since when do you lock the door?”
“Since some fucker kept coming in unannounced.” I ran a hand through my hair, picking the used joint out of the bed where I must have dropped it last night as I drifted off to sleep.
“The same fucker who owns the house?” he shot back.
Tugging my sweats up I turned and took a good look at my partner in crime; he didn’t look good. Cold anger brewed just beneath the stony surface—the kind of anger that would have him taking down the whole world if necessary.
“Could be.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand over my short beard.
“You need to leave.”
“Excuse me?” I picked up my phone to realize that it was almost eleven AM on Friday morning. Maybe it was a good thing he was banging on my door—I shouldn’t have been so fucking lazy. Then again, I was sleeping like shit because I couldn’t get J-bird off my mind.
“You broke your knee, not your brain, Pride. I need you to leave.”
“I fucking heard you. What the hell is going on?” I demanded. “Did I do something? This isn’t about fucking Monroe is it?”
He ran a hand over the top of his head before turning and slamming his fist into the back of the door.
“She’s back.”
“Who? Your mom?”
“Those fuckers, too.”
“Who else?”
“Eliza.” Shit.
Eliza fucking Blackman was Lila’s mother—and the queen of all manipulative whores. She loved hard fucks and even harder drugs.
Eight years ago had been a low point in Frost’s life—his dad dying unexpectedly, his mom, Jane Frost, remarrying just over a year later to Levi Stone—a man who thought physical abuse was an entirely acceptable method of dealing with any situation. Levi was the owner of a private security firm whose business dealings were probably far more duplicitous and menacing than everyone was led to believe—the phrase ‘guns for hire’ came to mind. The reality for Frost was that Sto
ne knew exactly how and where to hurt you—and how to make sure you desired to never speak of the incident to anyone.
During this whole shit-storm season of life, Frost had spent most of his time coked up and fucking anything in his vicinity—like Eliza, who was just waiting to use the opportunity of the drugged-up rich kid to her advantage. As with all bad, bareback decisions, the consequences continued to haunt him long after he’d given up any interest in both of those things.
“You said your parents, too?”
“Just until Sunday, thank fuck.” My eyes flicked to his fist, noticing that the knuckles were red and raw—meaning that he’d already gotten into it with Stone.
Because of the drugs, he’d had some run-ins with the law that not only legitimized any reason Stone had for roughing him up, but had gotten to the point where Frost was facing jail time. And because when it rains, it pours, it was at that time when Eliza showed up with a one-year-old in tow, claiming that the girl was Frost’s and leaving her. I wouldn’t put it past the bitch to lie about the paternity of the kid, but having seen the girl, she did have Frost’s eyes.
When Stone had found out that not only was his step-son possibly heading to jail, but that he also now had a child… well, Frost had ended up with two cracked ribs, a broken arm, and a mild concussion. All ‘snowboarding injuries’ to the rest of the world, of course. For Frost though, dealing with the abuse was better than facing incarceration. He may not have been a fucking role model but he did have a heart… and it belonged to his daughter the moment he saw her; the thought of where she would end up—or with whom—if he went to jail was unconscionable.
So, in exchange for control over his life and his inheritance, Jane Stone stepped in with the court and asked for Frost to be put on probation, earning him a five-year prison sentence—only the prison was now his own home. They’d kept him out of jail, but they refused to support him. All his funds—his inheritance from his father—was locked away, trapping him here legally and financially until the sentence was up. But at least he could care for his daughter and watch her grow. And for that… he would have sold his soul to the devil if that’s what it took.
Enjoy the Ride (Winter Games Book 3) Page 12