by Daya Daniels
I only nod and look away from him. “Yeah,” I whisper.
He bobs his head a few times. “I would ask you why, but I think I already know the answer to that.”
I remain silent, taking in the salty scent of the ocean in the distance and letting the high-pitched sound of the crickets around us drown out my thoughts.
“I don’t think you should measure your own happiness against the lives of others, Callie.”
I purse my lips.
“Because that good-looking guy who’s over there sitting and laughing with his wife... Well, he beats her.”
My eyes widen. “Whattt?”
“It’s during the late hours when everyone is asleep, of course. I’ve seen it more than a few times. He doesn’t hit her with murderous rage. It’s more of a slap here, a smack there, and a punch delivered once or twice. It’s all maybe designed to keep her in line. It probably doesn’t leave bruises. I’m sure Anthony rationalizes it and maybe she does too. That’s why they’re still together.”
My mouth hangs open in shock.
“That’s why they’re over there playing cards because their lives are so perfect, right?” Trav grunts and stares at the couple across the street. “One. Big. Happy. Family.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just surprised.”
He laughs. “Not me.”
“They’ve been married for years. At least a decade now since we’ve lived across the street from them.
Trav is still chuckling. “It doesn’t matter, Callie.”
“I suppose it doesn’t.” I finish my wine and stare at the empty glass, deciding I don’t need a refill. What I need is sleep.
“You could be around someone your entire life, yet still know nothing about them,” he says softly, meeting my eyes.
The Civil Wars’ “Dust to Dust” sounds from the stereo in the den.
“Come here,” he whispers, patting his left thigh.
I flinch, unsure of what he’s asking me.
He runs his hand over my hair, encouraging me to stand. I crawl up in his lap and make myself comfortable, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“I don’t like it when you’re upset.”
“I’m okay,” I tell him even though he probably knows it’s a lie.
He runs his fingers along my back, caressing me, and before I realize it, I’m asleep.
Austen
“SO, THIS IS WHAT you’ve been doing?” Greg mutters, approaching where I’m kneeling, taking a few measurements of the deck outside of Arthur’s place for more outdoor planters.
I jerk my eyes up to meet his, surprised he’s driven out here just to pay me a visit. Despite that I’m living on his property we don’t see each other much, but I do get the odd text message and irritating phone call from him.
I stand up and shove the measuring tape in my pocket. I take a good look at Greg and laugh a little at his tailored three-piece suit that I presume he’ll be wearing to work today, because it doesn’t look like he’s been there yet. His dark hair is slicked back with a shit-ton of gel and an expensive watch decorates his wrist. He parked his BMW out on the road, far away from all the dust around here.
“No announcement that you’re coming here,” I joke. “No phone call.”
“No, nothing like that.” He laughs, looking around.
“Be careful. If you step any closer you might get those shiny shoes of yours dirty.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know. I’m just surprised. When you told me you were working out on Sullivan’s Island, I-I—”
“Didn’t believe me?” I finish his sentence.
He runs a hand over his jaw, looking away from me. “No, I guess I didn’t.”
Shaking my head, I stroll over to my notebook and scribble down a few numbers and notes. “You know I told you I was coming back here to get my life together.”
He bobs his head. “Yeah, yeah, you did.”
“And I am.”
“Yeah, I can see that. This place I think will go for a ton of money when it’s done. It looks amazing, honestly.”
I shrug. “Just doing my job.”
I’m quite aware that Greg knows about my plans to start a business. It’s amusing how the question that he’s dying to speak is on the tip of his tongue, but he just won’t ask it.
“I put aside some cash for you for when you came here.”
My inheritance?
“Don’t need it, but thanks.”
“Yeah, I see that.” He steps a few feet away, leaning on one leg. “I won’t ask where you’re getting the money from, Austen.”
Because it’s none of your business.
“I mean, you only got out of jail a little while ago. You’re well aware you’re still on probation...”
I inhale, pressing my lips together. “I’m not doing anything illegal, Greg.”
I toss the book down, shove my hands in my pockets, and stare at him.
Greg always did think he was better than me. He always thought his mother was better than mine. He was the apple of my father’s eye. And my father made sure Greg had a great start at life with everything he needed—money and a fancy education, which is why he’s a lawyer today. But our father left me nothing when he died. Not. A. Penny. It’s a fact that Greg refuses to acknowledge. It’s amazing how the two of us manage to have a relationship at all...which in some demented way I’m grateful for.
“Look, I know you people around here think you’re better than me, Greg.”
He smirks. “You always have to make it about that, don’t you?”
“Because that’s all it’s about,” I deadpan. “You and Ivy—”
“Leave Ivy out of this, Austen.” He scrunches his face. “Ivy is a good woman. She truly is. You know, you could learn a thing or two from the relationship I have with Ivy.”
I laugh and spin away from him, retrieving the tape from my pocket and taking more measurements of the left side of the deck. “Oh, yeah? What could I learn from the two of you?”
I’ve never told anyone, but the last time I was here in Mount Pleasant Mrs. Ivy Mattock offered to suck my dick. She pretends she doesn’t remember. And I like to pretend I’ve forgotten. I refused the mouth service, of course. So, if Greg thinks his life is perfect, he’s dumber than he looks.
He extends an arm out. “Family, Austen—the importance of family.”
“Okay, big brother.” I stand straight and exhale, cocking my head to the side. “And you learned that from your father, let me guess.”
“Your father too.” He gives me a hard look.
I chuckle. “Well, who would’ve known...”
Greg exhales. “Are we ever going to get past this, Austen? Ever?”
I don’t respond. I continue to work, moving a bench out of the way. The scrape of it against the deck is loud and drowns out Greg’s voice for a moment.
“All I’m saying is that you just focus on taking care of Brandon.”
I stiffen. “I am, Greg. I don’t need you to tell me that.”
His brows lift. “Are you sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Well, I know you don’t want to take any money from me for Brandon, but I want to give you some anyways, just to help.” He holds out a wad of cash.
I give him a strange look and step toward him. “Why not a check?”
“Didn’t have a chance to get to the bank yet.”
I grunt and take the money from him. “It’s about ten grand here.” I shove it in my pocket.
Greg nods. “Just don’t mention it to Ivy that I gave you that.”
“Why would I?” My brows knot.
“Just don’t.” He turns away from me. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah.” I toss my hand up in a disinterested wave and get back to work.
~
Once inside, I take a look around Arthur Morris’ place. A sense of pride floods through me at the work we’ve done to it.
It looks immaculate, like the expensive summer home of a
wealthy family. The place now looks modern but still has the rustic feel of a country home by the water.
A new chandelier hangs just over the dining room table now since Arthur had his interior designer come in over the last few days and fill the place with new furnishings—beds, tables, chairs—all very expensive stuff, taking all the old furnishings out, except for an antique oak bench that rests in the den.
I fucked Callie twice on that bench, holding her curvy body steady in my lap, staring at the rise and fall of her supple breasts as she went crazy on my cock, her long tresses flowing everywhere around us as she rode me like a cowgirl.
“Fuck,” I growl to myself, staring at the key in my hand then checking my watch.
It’s just after eleven in the morning and the work crew has already left, taking the day off early. I plan to do the same. I have laundry to do and desperately need to make a stop to the grocery store.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I stare at all the missed calls and text messages from Callie and grimace. They’ve been becoming more desperate by the day until they stopped completely. I don’t know what that means. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.
I press my phone to my lips and breathe.
I’m pissed that I miss her.
Just the thought forces a laugh from me. I fucked plenty of women in my lifetime and not one of them has left a lasting effect one me—not one of them had me questioning life and every decision I’ve ever made—not one. And here I am angry with myself that I feel used, taken advantage of and discarded like trash—the way Callie made me feel that night before I’d given her that face-beating with my dick.
Why do I even care if she used me? She did pay me after all.
It was sex—exactly what we knew it was from the very beginning and nothing more.
The sound of Arthur’s voice jerks me out of my daydream. With the slam of the screen door, he shuffles inside, his cane finding the floor in front of him.
I meet him in the kitchen. “Arthur,” I call out.
“Lonely People” by America echoes from the small radio on the kitchen counter.
“Yes. I’m here. I’m here,” he says grumpily.
Laughing, I reach out to shake his hand. It hangs in the air awkwardly until I lower it, feeling completely dissed.
Arthur only stares at me, drops his head, and looks around. “I think I could get a good million for this place now. I mean, the landscaping alone makes it look like it’s worth much more.” His voice is gritty and shakes with every word.
“Yeah, I think you could easily. When are you putting it up for sale?”
Arthur runs a shaky hand over his head. “I’m not.”
“Oh.” I reach into my pocket for the set of keys he’d given me a few months ago and hand them to him.
He gives me a dirty look. “You keep them.” He marches off.
I roll my eyes. “Arthur, they’re the keys to this place.” I follow behind him. “They belong to you.”
“Keep them.”
“I don’t understand.”
He huffs and halts his stride to turn around and look at me. “I want you to have this place.”
“Arthur, I can’t afford this. I mean, I have money but not for this and the bank won’t give me a loan—”
“It’s a gift, Austen Lennox. A gift free and clear of charge.” Arthur smiles.
I’m speechless.
“I don’t understand,” I rattle out, squinting my eyes.
“I asked fifty different guys to fix up this place and not one of them told me it could be done and if they did they wanted to charge me a shitload of money to do it. And you charged me hardly anything. This place looks better now than it did when Martha and I bought it fifty years ago.” He smiles. “I don’t want to sell it, Austen. And I know you’ll take care of it. This place is the perfect family home. Why don’t you move into it,” he suggests, “and make it a home again.”
I’m unable to get any words out of my mouth. The only thing that leaves me are weird exhales.
“I’ll tell everyone you bought it. No one needs to know all my business!” Arthur grits out before he heads toward the front door. “I’ll have my lawyer draft all the paperwork up. He’ll have everything to you tomorrow.”
I rush across the room and catch up to him. I place a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, are you sure?”
“I know your dad never did shit for you. And honestly, I never liked him or your brother, Greg.”
I bite back my smile.
“Kieran Mattock never gave you a thing, did he?”
“No, sir,” I say softly, staring at the keys in my palm.
“Not even his name,” Arthur huffs. “I’m an old man, Austen Lennox. I’ll probably be dead before the end of the year anyways.” He laughs. “I want you to have it. This place means so much to me, more than any dollar could ever be worth.”
I pull the old man in a hug that he quickly shrugs out of. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yes, yes. You’re welcome.” His gray eyes shine. “I must be going,” he says before making his way out the door. “I’m going to Virginia for a few weeks. I likely won’t be back here for a while, if ever.” He smiles. “I think I’m going to settle there permanently. You should come and visit.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
We shake hands again right before Arthur pulls me in for a hug and slaps my shoulder a few times.
Then, he’s gone.
Dropping my head, I stare at the keys in my hand. Then, I look around. This place is incredible and now it’s mine. I should be elated. And I am. But then I’m not when I realize the only person who will be occupying it full-time is me.
Just me.
Callie
A FEW DAYS LATER....
I’d stayed behind a little later than usual after school had ended early to straighten up my classroom and to pack away a few things. I’d miss this place until school started again. When I finish shoving a pile of books into the last cabinet, I stand and brush off my dress. I narrow my eyes when I spot Brandon sitting on the bench outside, waiting.
My heart leaps in my chest.
I fix my clothes and run my fingers through my hair as nervousness courses through me. I rush out of my classroom and down the empty hallways. When I make it to the double doors, I push on the latch, opening them, then jog toward the bench where Brandon is sitting.
He gives me a sidelong glance as I sit next to him but keeps his head down.
“Hey, Brandon.” I place a hand on his shoulder, nudging him a little bit.
“Hey, Mrs. Stone.” Still, he doesn’t look at me.
“Why do you look so sad?”
He shrugs and fiddles with his fingers.
“You should be happy.” I poke him in the side and he jumps, finally grinning a little. “School is out. Summer is here already. You’ll get to sleep in the mornings and stay up late every night.”
He makes a face. “I’ll be in summer camp.”
“Oh.” I scan the pickup area, waiting for...him. But I don’t see him yet. My breathing is erratic and then I wonder what the hell I am doing. What would I even say? He clearly doesn’t want to speak to me since he hasn’t replied to any of my messages or returned any of my phone calls.
It’s probably for the best...
Yes, it’s for the best.
So, why am I sitting here?
My mind wars...
Brandon looks up at me, his eyes glittery and sad. “Are you and my dad not friends anymore?”
I stiffen. “Noooo. I mean, yes, of course we are. It’s nothing like that, Brandon.”
“He hasn’t talked about you since when you came over to the cottage for lobster. Whenever I try to talk about you he changes the subject and asks me if I want to go fishing. Or if I want to go down to the beach. Then we always have to walk the other way instead of toward your house, even when I tell him I want to talk to Mr. Stone for a little while.” He frowns.
“It’s a big beach
.” I force an uncomfortable giggle.
“Yeah, it is.” He’s back to playing with his fingers. “Then last weekend was weird.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom came with us to lunch. And she just keeps looking at my dad like she wants to kiss him.”
I take a deep, long breath.
“And she’s always around now.”
Shouldn’t this make him happy?
I flex my hands. “Well, she’s your mom, Brandon.”
“Yeah, but I just got him back. I guess I want him to hang out with me.”
Good idea!
“My dad bought a house out on Sullivan’s Island,” he blurts out.
My ears perk up. What?
“Yeah, he bought a new place. He’s going to move in it soon because he said he’s sick and tired of Uncle Greg and Aunty Ivy’s shit.” He slaps a hand over his mouth when he realizes he swore. “Sorry.”
I smile.
“And I have my own bedroom there—a bigger bedroom than the one at the cottage. And my mom said she plans to live in the big house with my dad.”
My stomach sinks down to Australia.
Is this why Austen hasn’t called me?
Easing up from my seat, I take a few shallow breaths when I realize how dizzy I am. “Okay, well, Brandon, you have a good night tonight. Your mom or your dad should be here in a few minutes.” I place a palm over my stomach, feeling like I’m about to upchuck.
Spinning around, I take two steps, feeling desperately like I should run before a female voice stops me.
“Mrs. Stone,” Raine says in an easy tone.
When I twist around, she’s standing next to the bench, holding Brandon against her. “Brandon, go ahead to the car. Grandpa is in there. I’ll be there in a sec.” She waves him away.
I stare blankly at her.
“Can I talk to you?” she asks.
My gaze darts around. “Um, yeah, sure.” I take a few steps toward her as she walks. We meet in the middle.
It dawns on me at this moment how much younger this woman is than me. I’ve got her beat by almost fifteen years.
“Yes, what is it?” I question when she won’t speak.